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She didn’t answer for a minute, lost in a memory.

“After Mitch left, I went back to my mom’s.

I didn’t have much choice since I couldn’t manage the rent for our apartment by myself.

She let me stay, but clearly she was disgusted.

She’d never liked Mitch, told me as much.

Said I’d regret marrying him, and though she wouldn’t come out and say it, I knew that was how she felt about Dad.

She rued marrying my father and I could tell I’d disappointed her every bit as much as he did.

So I didn’t tell her about the baby. I pretended there wasn’t one.

Worked. Slept. Ate. I saved up like a fiend and moved into a one-room rental as soon as I possibly could. ”

“You didn’t have any contact with your father at that time?”

She shook her head. “Dad was convicted when I was seventeen. He’d call from prison and Mom would let it ring.

Once I ran to get it, and she grabbed the phone from me and slammed it down before I could say a word.

‘He’s dead to me,’ she said.” The pain rippled across Kit’s face.

“I couldn’t take it. I started yelling, throwing all the Christianese back at her.

‘You say we’re meant to forgive because God did, but you won’t. ’”

Cullen reached for her hand, and she let him take it. “That must have hurt so deeply.”

Kit closed her eyes and dropped her chin.

“Dad begged her to forgive him. I’d heard him crying and pleading before he went to jail.

She told him he was going to get what was coming to him.

” Tears shone as Kit refocused on him. “This woman, this Christian woman with Scriptures on the walls and pillows and who never missed church...”

He squeezed her fingers, urging her to get it out, to relieve herself of the burden.

She sniffed. “On my eighteenth birthday, I packed and left. She didn’t try to stop me.

I was engaged three months later to Mitch, my high school sweetheart.

After he dumped me and I left Mom’s, I worked two jobs, grocery clerking during the day and cleaning hotel rooms at night.

A regular grocery store customer owned a trucking business, and he said if I got my credentials in order he’d hire me.

I studied, got my commercial driver’s license, and started a training program.

All the while I hid the pregnancy from everyone, even myself.

I just kept saying, ‘Work today. Worry about that tomorrow.’ It was the only time in my life I didn’t have a plan for what was going to happen. ”

Tot dropped her cracker and fussed until Cullen handed her a fresh one and she settled back into the seat.

“Dad got sick, had a stroke a short while after he was released from jail. He died in the hospital before I could get there. Mom forwarded his life insurance check to me. She didn’t go to his funeral.”

“Any contact with your mother now?”

Kit’s expression softened. “I’ve tried hard, and she’s done the best she can, I think.

There’s always ... awkwardness when we talk on the phone, as if we both can’t wait to finish and get off the line.

It’s a work in progress. Maybe she would have eventually forgiven him if he’d lived longer, but . ..”

He paused, weighing the question. “Your baby?”

She shrugged. “I miscarried in the second trimester.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She looked bewildered as she shook her head slowly.

“I was, too, which came as a huge surprise. I didn’t think I wanted the baby anyway.

I was flirting with plans to put it up for adoption, so why would I be sad?

” She hunched her shoulders. “I have this sense of guilt, that the baby died because I didn’t want it enough. ”

“I’m not an expert, but miscarriages happen, Kit. They just do.”

She looked at him, wanting more.

He prayed again because he suspected she’d never had this conversation with another living soul. “People lose babies all the time, people who are 100 percent sure they want them right alongside the ones who don’t. Things happen on earth. It’s messed up down here and that’s certain. God knows that.”

After a long pause, she nodded and blew out a breath. “Thanks for saying that.”

He let go but leaned forward, holding her gaze. “Tell me the rest of the story, Kit Garrido.”

“What rest of the story?”

“How you came to be the owner of that stylish rig?”

She smiled. “Nothing glamorous. Old-fashioned hard work. I invested what was left of my dad’s insurance money.

Ate ramen and beans for months and even lived in my car for a while to save money for the down payment.

After I got the truck, I hung out my shingle and started my own business, which I’ve been building for years. ”

“Hard work and sweat equity.”

“Absolutely. I did it right. Even if all that work is covered by a pile of lava by now.” She blew out a slow breath.

“Wish I’d ... I dunno. Done some things differently.

With people in my life, I mean. Tried harder with Mom.

Let more friends close who wanted to be.

I hurt some people by pushing them away. ”

He stroked his thumb along her wrist, soaking in the sadness that drifted like the falling snowflakes outside. “God forgives you for all that, Kit.”

She arched a brow, as if she were trying to solve a logic puzzle. “You’re not credible to say that though, are you?”

He goggled, straightening as he lost touch with her. “Not credible? Why would you say that?”

“Because you don’t believe what you say, deep down. You don’t live like it anyway.”

Now she had his full attention. How had he communicated that message?

She didn’t sound angry, only sad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he managed.

She wiped the spoon and put it away. “I shouldn’t have said that. Never mind. Too blunt. I have to work on that.”

“Please. I want to know.” He needed to know.

She exhaled. “Well, you say God forgives, but you don’t forgive yourself, for what happened to your cop partner, I mean.”

“I, uh...” How had the spotlight shifted so abruptly to him when they’d been talking about her life? “I know it wasn’t completely my fault.”

She wasn’t buying it. “You tell yourself your actions gravely injured your partner and ended her career. You punish yourself by leaving a job you love and moving somewhere away from your friends and family. You are your own judge, and you’ve decided you’re not forgiven. You. Not God.”

The statement landed like an ember thrown onto a bed of parched grass.

He felt the fire burning through his flimsy walls, the sweep of flames cleansing away the chaff.

She was right, this intense woman bound to him in a surreal moment in time.

He had refused to accept the gift God offered, his clutched fists holding on to guilt.

The realization shocked him into speechlessness.

She shifted uneasily. “It’s ... probably not the moment, but after Dad died, I spent a lot of hours thinking about this.

Long road trips with no one to talk to will make a person introspective.

That’s what I had to learn, with my mother.

Whether she forgave my dad or not, that’s on her soul.

If a person can’t accept forgiveness themselves, or refuses to give it to someone else, it puts them in the place of God, doesn’t it? ”

Puts them in the place of God.

Her face was gentler than he’d ever seen, and her tone was sweet, almost loving.

He wasn’t ready to put it all together, but he knew in the quiet of his heart he had some reckoning to do. “You’ve ... given me a lot to think about.”

“I apologize if I offended or hurt your feelings.” She cleaned her hands with a napkin. “Are you sorry yet that you jumped in to help this trucker with her wrecked rig?”

“Not for one single second.”

The connection shimmered between them. Not for an instant would he choose to be with anyone else, anywhere else.

He wanted to say more, to reach out and bring her to him, kiss her even, but she drew back, packing the trash away, agitation showing in her movements.

He leaned against the door, wondering at his feelings. Trauma bonding , Cullen. Remember that.

She avoided looking at him. “So, um, Tot’s finished her graham cracker and she’s snoozing again. Better see what’s in that tunnel because the peace isn’t going to last.”

The past few moments and hours were going to last, though. The truth, the kisses, the bubble of comfort amid the ruins. He’d nestle them deep.

Warmth radiating through his bloodstream, he followed her again into the whirling snow.