Page 9 of Every Heartbeat After

She picks up on the fifth ring, just when I’ve decided she’s probably ignoring me. “I thought civilians were supposed to call the police, not the other way around.”

I roll my eyes, though I know she can’t see. “Hello to you, too.”

There’s a dull roar of conversation buzzing through the line. Nomads must be packed. And not for nothing—if I could be there instead of heading into an overnight on too little sleep and even less sanity, I would. One of Santi’s green chili burgers sounds amazing right about now.

“We’re a bit busy, Kit. What do you need?”

I scrub a hand down my face. The bell over the door chimes, announcing Jamie’s arrival. I can’t say the things I want to in front of him. I’m not even sure what those things are, just that there’s a strange feeling in my chest that I want to be rid of.

“Is this about Tess?” Zoey presses.

My chair groans as I lean forward, balancing elbows on knees. “Why would you think that?”

Her sigh is barely audible over the noise of the crowd. “Because I know you. You can scent a vulnerable woman like a bloodhound.”

“I resent that.”

“But do you deny it?”

I close the file I’d been pretend-perusing. “Why did I call you?”

“Because I’m your best friend, no matter how weird that seems to both of us.” There’s a telltale squeak of the saloon-style door that leads into Nomads’ kitchen, and suddenly conversation is replaced with the metal clang of food prep in the background. “Look, from what little Gary has told me, Tess has been through a lot. And this weekend is important for both of them. So maybe just keep it in your pants this time, yeah?”

I close my eyes, blocking out the bland sheriff’s department and Jamie’s perfectionistic organizing of the front desk since Akita, who works the day shift, left it in a disarray as usual. I know Zoey’s right, at least about the importance of this weekend to Gary and Tess. And her assumption about my intentions is fair, given that’s all she’s seen from me in the years we’ve known each other. Hell, it’s all I’ve wanted anyone to see.

What I can’t figure out is how to explain that the draw I feel to Tess is not merely physical. It hardly makes sense to me, this piqued interest. Maybe she’s right and I’m thinking with my dick without even realizing. And if she’s wrong? Then it’s best for both me and Tess that I don’t acknowledge it.

“Yeah.” My voice is gravel. Mulched wood. Everything part and parcel. “Thanks for talking me off the ledge, Zo.”

“Anytime. Now go roam the streets and keep the citizens of Loveless and the greater valley safe.”

“Deal, so long as you don’t get them too drunk.”

“You got it, Deputy Dickwad.”

I laugh, and it shakes something loose inside. It feels like relief. “Bye, Zo.”

“Bye, Kit.” Her laughter is the last thing I hear before she hangs up. A reminder not to take myself, or these feelings, too seriously.

Good fucking luck.

ChapterFour

Tess

The water pressureat the motel is abysmal, but I manage to wash the remnants of sleep off in record time as I prepare for the day. We didn’t have long to catch up last night, between the jet lag and Gary’s insistence that I get some rest. But today there’s a festival taking over downtown Loveless. Which means a chance to explore the town with my uncle, and to formally meet some of the people he calls his family. Callsmyfamily, now, too.

Plus, there will be food trucks. Say less, am I right?

I drape a flowy sundress over my body, aiming for comfort rather than structure. A random thought flits through my mind—would Kit like it?Then I remind myself he’s likely sleeping off his overnight shift. And, more importantly, I shouldn’t care.

I study myself in the mirror as I apply a thin layer of sunscreen to my face. I’m my mother made over—same green eyes, same white-blonde hair. But is that Gary’s twinkle in my eye? Did my grandfather’s nose make it onto both our faces?

You don’t realize how precious it is to see yourself reflected back in the faces of your loved ones. In their mannerisms and in their stories. Not till they’re all gone and there’s no one around that carries a piece of you with them. It feels like you’re the tree falling in a forest without a soul nearby to listen. It’s easy to suspect you might not exist after all.

The woman who checked me in last night stands outside the office building, giving me a once-over as I pass. “You headed out to the festival, miss?” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her arched nose, a half-burnt cigarette dangling between two fingers. I can’t tell if she’s the only worker or just owns the place, but I haven’t run into anyone else since I arrived, so I imagine she’s both.

I nod and offer her a smile. “I am. Want me to bring you back anything?”

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