Page 33 of Major Love

I mean, it could be Riley, but he hasn’t tried calling me so far.

Casey? Kind of unlikely, seeing as he schedules our calls around his military schedule.

I pull a mitten off with my teeth as I slip my phone out of my pocket, glancing at the screen when it lights up in front of me.

I blink at the two notifications, stating ‘missed call’ and ‘no signal’.

Then I step backward barely a millimetre and my phone instantly vibrates to life again.

My brow rises with surprise as I glance up at the trees around me, realising that we must be standing in a random connectivity hotspot.

I quickly click the answer button but, as soon as I move an inch, the call disappears again.

I throw my head back on a groan before lifting my phone in the air, trying to find the patch of signal.

“You get a call?” Haven hollers as she finally catches up to us.

“I think it might have been Casey,” I rasp, the altitude making my voice a little more husky than usual.

“Darn,” Haven pants, before swiping her mittens over her flushed pink cheeks.

I spend a minute trying to recapture the cell service, but, when no more calls come through, I finally give up.

Then I give Tucker’s cheeks a little squish and say, “Race you to the big pine at the top!”

He squeals with delight and instantly shoots off toward the top of the trail. “I’m racing, I’m racing! Last one up is a little tush!”

Chapter 8

Jason

She isn’t picking up her phone.

Not on Saturday morning, when I called her the first five times, after she sent me a quick morning text.

And not this morning either, while I glanced out of my windshield toward Casey’s driveway.

Casey’semptydriveway, seeing as his truck wasn’t there.

Meaning that wherever Sunday went yesterday, she still hasn’t come back.

So she was out all night.

Where the hell did she go?

I swipe a hand back through my hair and toss Casey’s shovel beside the hole, the gravel finally compacted and ready for the next stage of the project.

I need to complete Casey’s yard ASAP if I want it ready for when his outpost ends, especially to avoid the imminent snowfall that’s already multiple feet deep up some of the mountains.

So that’s exactly what I’ve been doing, spending every free weekend that I have working on it, only today it feels different because there’s a heavy weight wrapped around my chest.

Sunday didn’t come home last night.

She spent the night someplace else.

I give each of the four lifted-canopy posts a firm testing shake, checking to see that they’re still secure and won’t collapse in case of a storm. Then I drag a second tarp straight over the hole and hammer it into place, before hauling the rest of my gear up Casey’s back porch and opening the back door with the curve of my shoulder.

I can’t deny it – my heart practically stopped in my chest when Sunday texted me yesterday morning. Only problem was, there was a full hour before I noticed it because I’d been so preoccupied with heaving and spreading the subsoil.

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