Page 12

Rhys

I ’m relieved when Eden finally nods off, her head tipped against a bit of the fleece blanket she’s folded between her and the window.

I’m glad to see her eyes closed. To hear her breathing even out and deepen.

Partly because it gives me a minute to think.

I can’t believe she guessed about the email. And I can’t believe I confirmed it for her.

If anyone ever finds out, I’ll be disbarred.

Still, I wouldn’t take it back. If I had to do it over again, I’d do it the same way.

And I’m not sorry she knows.

We climb the mountains while she sleeps, a little rain falling as we pass through the Cascades’ windward towns. This drive is better in the daytime, obviously, but at least there’s no chance of freezing in early September.

The car’s clock tips over past midnight.

We’ve just crossed the Columbia River, following the freeway on its turn north, when the engine stutters the first time.

I tell myself I imagined it. Because that’s the kind of thing you’d imagine. Driving a rented luxury car, jilted bride sleeping in the seat next to you. Chasing her fiancé across the state of Washington. And then: car trouble.

Seriously, that can’t happen in real life.

Even so, I’m braced, listening, for miles.

I’ve just relaxed when it comes again. And this time it’s not so much a stutter as a—pause. Like a broken heart.

Fuuuuck .

I take the next exit and find myself…in the middle of nowhere.

Eden rouses. “What?” she asks. “Where are we? What are you doing?”

“Shh,” I say. “Go back to sleep. It’s nothing.”

The engine chooses that moment to jolt alarmingly.

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” she says, sitting fully upright. “And neither does that .”

The engine’s whining now, like a child about to tantrum, which is pretty apt. And I’m not the guy who changes his own oil or tinkers under the hood, but I did grow up on a ranch driving aging trucks, so I recognize the sound of a failing fuel pump.

“Can you GPS the nearest gas station for me?” I ask her.

She does and gives me directions.

We really are fucking nowhere. In the dark, the landscape is featureless. Part of me wonders if I should have stayed on the highway, called for a tow. The rental car company would have been on the hook to arrange it. Now we’re here. Wherever here is.

When we reach it, several miles later, the gas station has two aging gas pumps and a single garage.

Miraculously, blessedly, there’s someone inside the tiny booth area.

A twentysomething guy in a Cougars snapback, video from his phone throwing colored light back on his face.

He puts the phone down and eyes Eden and me with curiosity.

“You have a repair shop?” I ask him.

“My aunt’s,” he says.

“We have a fuel pump issue.”

“She’s out of town till late tomorrow night.”

Well, shit. I look over at Eden; she mouths, Quilts .

“We can’t wait that long,” I say. “Any chance you could tow us somewhere that can help us right away?”

He gives me a skeptical glance. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, man. You’re not going to find anyone around here who’s going to take care of it on a Sunday. Your best bet’s to leave it here and Aunt Jane will take care of it first thing Monday.”

I turn to Eden. She can barely keep her eyes open, lashes fluttering against her cheekbones in long blinks as I watch. I want to pull her into my arms and let her rest against my chest.

She’s not yours to comfort, I remind myself. She’s a client’s ex. And if this wedding can still work out, you owe it to Hanna—and to all your siblings—to give that every chance to happen. And hugging the bride, touching your lips to her hair, breathing in her scent…does not support that goal.

“We could leave it here, try to get another rental?” I murmur to her.

“Yeah.” She sounds exhausted. “It’s not like we can drive it, can we?”

I hate the defeat in her voice, but I shake my head. We could nurse it a little longer, but it’s going to die on us at some point soon. She pulls out her phone, and I know she’s looking at Find My again.

“He still in Spokane?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think he’s doing there?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “He grew up there. Maybe he still knows people?”

“In which case he might stick around a couple days.”

“He might?”

I make an executive decision, based on how bushed she looks—and how tired I am. I was up early this morning, too, and it’s almost 1:00 a.m. I could drive another few hours, but by the time we lay hands on another car and get going…

“We should stay the night.” I look to Snapback Guy. “Where’s the nearest hotel?” I figure I’ll call an Uber to get us back here in the morning.

“My aunt rents the room over the garage,” he says. “Hundred bucks a night, clean sheets, pullout couch, full bath, hair dryer, fridge, microwave, TV. I’ll bring you takeout from the local diner at eight tomorrow morning, included.”

I look at Eden. She’s leaning against the wall, her face pale, circles under her eyes.

Normally I’m a chain-hotel kind of guy—and a luxury chain at that, but Eden’s blinks are getting longer and longer, and I need to see her cozy in a bed.

“We’ll take it,” I say.