Page 61 of Found by the Pack

My truck.

Parked along the curb, all my supplies stacked neatly in the bed. The sight knocks something loose in my chest—relief mixed with disbelief.

“You brought it back.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I was with Elias when Cora called. We’d just finished loading it up anyway.”

I grip the strap of my bag tighter. “Thank you. Tell me what it cost and I’ll settle it.”

He shakes his head. “How about I get you home first?”

I want to argue, but the fight feels like it’s been wrung out of me.

“Okay,” I say instead.

We climb into the truck. The engine hums steady under us, and as we pull away from the curb, I keep my gaze fixed on the wet street ahead, because if I think too much about the phone call—or the fact that Gabe saw me crying—it’ll all come rushing back, and I don’t know if I can take that again today.

One thing at a time, Sadie. One thing at a time.

CHAPTER 14

Gabe

Iknew Boone was rattled after whatever conversation he had with her this morning. He tried to play it off when we spoke at the station, but I’ve known him long enough to read the set of his shoulders, the shortness in his answers.

Something about Sadie’s past has him wound tighter than I’ve seen in a long time. That’s why I’m here now—and why I took off my uniform before I came.

If Boone’s right, she doesn’t have fond associations with men in our line of work. No need to give her another reason to push me away. I throw on jeans, a plain Henley, and a jacket instead of the fire captain’s shirt.

No badge. No department logo.

She’s already walking toward the truck when I pull up, wiping at her cheeks like she’s trying to erase whatever happened at Cora’s before I got there.

“So?” I ask once she’s buckled in. “How was the mural today?”

For a second I think she won’t answer. She’s watching the trees blur past her window, jaw tight. Then she says, “I’ll need another two days for the base layers. Maybe three if the weather doesn’t hold.”

Her voice is thin, frayed at the edges. I nod, keeping my eyes on the road. I want to ask her about the redness in her eyes but I know pushing too hard will make her retreat.

She glances at me then, and I catch the faint crease between her brows. “Will you ask about the phone call?”

I glance over at her. She looks worn out, angry in a way that has nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to add another layer to that right now.

“Let’s get you home first,” I say, and she doesn’t press.

The rest of the drive is quiet, except for the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of her weight in the seat. Her head tips toward the window at one point, and I can tell by the slow rise and fall of her shoulders that she’s slipping under.

When we pull into her driveway, I kill the engine and glance over. She’s already half-asleep. I hate to wake her, but I’m not leaving her out here in the truck.

“Sadie.” I reach out and touch her forearm lightly. “Hey, we’re here.”

She blinks awake, rubbing her eyes. “Thanks,” she murmurs, unbuckling and climbing out.

I grab my jacket and follow her up the short path. She turns when she hears my steps behind her. “Where are you going?”

“Look,” I say, stopping just close enough that I don’t crowd her, “you and me are going to talk, okay? But not out here. So… are you letting me in?”

She studies me for a long moment, her gaze sharp and searching, like she’s deciding whether I’m worth the risk. Then she steps aside.