Page 26 of Rush Turner
We peeled off into the night, the girl safe between Max and me. Somewhere out there, Jessa and those kids were sleeping soundly, never knowing how close the past came to crawling back.
Not on my watch. Not ever again.
20
Rush
Coming home felt different this time. Clean. Settled, like the last loose end had finally been cut for good.
Max dropped me at the garage, clapping me on the shoulder so hard I nearly swallowed a tooth.
“You good, Turner?” he asked, leaning against the truck door, looking all smug like he knew exactly what waited for me around the bend.
“Better than good,” I said, grabbing my bag from the back. “Tell Fraiser I owe him a bottle of the good stuff.”
Max just grinned. “You owe us all for covering your ass. Now go find your farm girl before someone else does.”
I didn’t botherwith a shower. Or clean clothes. Or sleep. I pointed my truck at Jessa’s place and didn’t stop until a crazy goat came into view, chewing on my old work gloves he must’ve stolen from the porch weeks ago.
Figures.
I shut the car door soft, not wanting to wake the whole house. But she was already there, barefoot again, framed in the glow spilling out the kitchen window, like she’d been waiting exactly for this moment.
She didn’t sayhi. Didn’t askhow was the mission.
She just crossed the porch, fisted her hands in my shirt, and kissed me so hard I nearly forgot I was still wearing boots caked in three countries’ worth of dirt.
“Hi to you too,” I murmured when she let me breathe.
She smacked my chest, not hard enough to hurt. “You’re back late.”
“Later than I wanted,” I said. “Earlier than I could’ve been.”
Her eyes searched mine for something — maybe the truth I wouldn’t say out loud. That the monster who haunted her sleep would never crawl back again.
“You’re safe,” I said instead. “That’s what matters.”
She huffed out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, pressed her forehead to mine. “Come inside before Aunt Marie catches you out here like a stray dog.”
“Oh, I’m house-trained, darlin’. Want me to prove it?”
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth curved up, and her fingers tugged at my belt.
I took my boots off on the porch and set them way up high, where no goat could reach them.
“Upstairs,” she said. “Quiet. Or else you’ll have to explain yourself to Auntie and some nosy kids at breakfast.”
I tossed my bag in a corner, scooped her up like she weighed nothing — because after the week I’d had, this woman was the only thing that didn’t feel heavy.
“Rush Turner, I swear to God—” she squealed when I bumped her shoulder on the doorframe.
“Shh, baby,” I whispered against her ear. “Let me make missing me worth it.”
21
Jessa
When I woke up, the sun was high enough that I knew two things immediately:
