Page 13 of Stand

He got out of the car. This close, she discovered that he smelled of wood shavings and dryer sheets, and blond stubble dusted his cheeks and chin. When he slapped his keys into her open hand, she felt rough skin.

No time to ponder this, of course. Sam opened the back hatch, and Cairo easily hopped up into the space. She thought of asking Ty if he minded a dog in his car, but that was the least of his worries.

Sam was soon heading for the highway, Ty holding on to the oh-shit bar above his door as if she were about to drive them into a wall, and constantly checking the phone in his other hand.

He didn’t speak until they were on the exit ramp for the highway. She couldn’t imagine what thoughts were going through his mind, but he said, “You probably think I’m overreacting.”

“No!” She took her eyes off the road to see him looking at her. “No, absolutely not.”

He didn’t hold her gaze but continued scanning the road. “Julia… gets these ideas in her head.” He didn’t look at her, instead shifting his attention to Cairo. “They don’t usually pan out. She took them to a fancy French restaurant last month and was pissed when they wouldn’t eat snails. So she left them there.”

“Jesus, Ty.”

“Told them they were ungrateful and to go back to me if they liked me that much more than her.” His shoulders hunched.

“I’m so sorry.” Inadequate response, but it was all she had.

He gave a little snort. “The thing is,shenever says that. She never thinks she did anything wrong. The world is against her. I can’t fight it.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. They drove in silence for a minute more, but she was well aware of when he began staring at her profile. He was looking at her as though she were some kind of exotic species he’d suddenly found in his car.

“Where did you go after high school?” he asked abruptly.

“UNM. Then a master’s in Egypt. But I came back for my doctorate. The pueblos were where I wanted to be.”

“Huh.” He stared at her even harder. Even for Sam, who had no problem with the way she looked, the scrutiny made her fidget her hands on the steering wheel.

“What?” she said. “What did you think I’d be doing?”

He shrugged, turning his attention to the road. “I don’t know. Working for your family business, I guess.”

“Hellno,” burst out of her. The very thought made her throat close up. Office buildings, factory inspections, marketing meetings. Ugh.

That elicited a short laugh from him. “Okay then. I just… didn’t think the Fieldings would ever leave Massachusetts.”

“You don’t have to say ‘the Fieldings’ like we’re the Sopranos or something.” He didn’t reply, just kept his eyes on the road. For some reason, she got annoyed. “So what doyoudo?” She squinted at him. He’d been one of the emo kids at school. Holed up in the art room or sitting under trees in black on hot days.

“I design office spaces,” he said.

Well, that sounded suburban. “Not comic books?”

He looked back at her with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Graphic novels, and no. This pays better.”

“So youdidwant to draw—”

“Don’t miss the exit!” he interrupted, and Sam had to swerve hard to catch it. Chastened, she focused on her driving. She wasn’t here to tease Tyler Cavanaugh. She was here to shut up and drive.

His phone rang. “Tyler Cavanaugh,” he said into it. “Okay. Okay, good.” He swapped his phone to his other side and put the hand closest to Sam up to his face, covering it from her. “Good.” He sounded more strangled with each word. She wished she could give him some privacy. “We’re just coming up to the airport. I’ll be there in five minutes. Okay. Yep. Thanks. Thank you.” The last word was a fervent whisper, even as he took the phone from his ear to hang up.

“Good news?” she said into the silence.

“Yes. They got them.” Most of the tension oozed from him, but now he put his hand on the dashboard in front of him, leaning forward as if willing the car to move faster in the airport traffic.

“I’m glad,” she said.

He grunted acknowledgment, but she could tell his mind was far from niceties now. Sam dodged around as many cars as she could, and within the promised five minutes she was pulling up to the departures entrance. “Wait!” she said as he opened the door almost before the car had stopped. “I can’t leave Cairo. Take my number. I’ll wait for you.”

Impatiently, he tapped her phone number into his phone. Then he was gone, pushing through a small knot of people going through the doors, their excited chattering a contrast to the strain she’d seen in his face.

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