Page 7 of Montana Justice

Or yesterday. Or the day before that, really. The gas station beef stick I’d bought this morning certainly hadn’t been a full meal.

Lachlan was already signaling the bartender. “We need to fix that right now. Let me buy you dinner. What sounds good?”

“Oh, you don’t have to?—”

“I want to. Please.”

The kindness in his offer made my chest ache. I looked down at the menu again, at prices that might as well have been in a foreign currency for all the good they did me. Twelve dollars for an appetizer. Eighteen for a sandwich. Numbers that represented more money than I’d had in my pocket in weeks.

“The burger looks good,” I said quietly.

“Two of the loaded burgers,” Lachlan told the bartender. “And whatever sides she wants.”

“Fries are fine.”

“Make it the sweet potato fries,” he added. “They’re incredible here.”

I hadn’t had sweet potato fries in… God, I couldn’t even remember how long. The small kindness of it—choosing something I might enjoy instead of just the cheapest option—threatened to undo me completely.

While we waited for the food, Lachlan told me about his plans as sheriff, about community outreach programs and his hopes for building stronger relationships between law enforcement and the town. I found myself genuinely engaged, asking questions and laughing at his stories about dealing with drunk tourists and runaway cattle.

The food arrived, and I had to force myself not to inhale it like a starving animal. The burger was perfect—juicy and seasoned just right, with fresh lettuce and tomato that actually tasted like it had been grown in soil instead of a lab. The sweetpotato fries were crispy outside and fluffy inside, dusted with some kind of seasoning that made my taste buds sing.

“Good?” Lachlan asked, and I realized I’d actually moaned out loud.

“Incredible,” I said, not bothering to hide my enthusiasm. “I can’t remember the last time I had a meal this good.”

Something flickered across his expression—concern, maybe, or curiosity about what my life had been like that a simple burger seemed like such a luxury. But he didn’t push, just smiled and kept eating.

As the evening wore on, I found myself relaxing despite everything. The conversation flowed easier than it had with anyone in as long as I could remember. Lachlan told me about the changes in town, about people we’d both known, about everything and nothing.

But even as I laughed at his stories and shared carefully edited tales of my supposed adventures, part of my mind was still working. Still calculating. The crowd was thinning as people headed home, which meant fewer opportunities. The drunk man in the corner had finally left, stumbling out with his friends without me managing to get close to him.

I should have been panicking. Should have been figuring out my next move, scanning for new opportunities. But sitting here with Lachlan, feeling safe and full and genuinely cared about for the first time in longer than I could remember… I didn’t want it to end.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave this bubble of warmth and normalcy to face the cold reality of my circumstances. Not yet.

I’d figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.

“Last call,” the bartender announced, and I looked around in surprise to realize we were among the final customers left.

“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

“Time flies when you’re with good company,” Lachlan agreed, pulling out his wallet to settle our tab.

I watched him pay, noting the neat way he kept his bills organized, the decent watch on his wrist, the quality of his jacket. He was doing well for himself, clearly. Not rich, maybe, but comfortable. Stable.

Everything I’d never been.

The thought whispered through my mind before I could stop it:He’d be an easy mark.Trusting, distracted by old memories and whatever he thought he saw in me. If I played this right, I could probably get enough to keep me going for weeks.

The idea made me sick to my stomach.

I grabbed my backpack and we walked outside together, and the mountain air hit my lungs sharp and clean. The temperature had dropped since I’d gone inside, and I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, trying not to wince as the movement pulled at my sore ribs.

“Where are you staying?” Lachlan asked.

The question I’d been dreading. “I’ll just grab a room at that little motel on the edge of town.”

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