Page 61 of Kyle

“No.”

Kyle stares out the windshield. “Maybe he doesn’t like to talk about it. Sometimes, I’m not even sure what he remembers. He lost a lot of memories.”

“It’s sad, but I try not to be sad for him. I know the last thing he wants is pity.”

“Yeah.”

“It costs a lot to face the truth. You can be sorry about something and not take on the guilt and responsibility for it,” I murmur.

We spend most of the rest of the trip in silence. Eventually, I doze off. When I wake, we’re on I5.

Kyle stops to get gas, and I can see the exhaustion on his face.

“Let me drive,” I offer.

“It’s a big RV pulling a big trailer, Sutton. You have any experience?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some coffee.” He hangs the nozzle on the gas pump. “You want anything?”

I shake my head.

Ten minutes later, we’re back on the road.

It’s almost midnight when we get home. Kyle drives me to Rafe’s house, and idles in the street, and calls his brother.

“Get your ass up, and come get your woman, loser,” Kyle teases.

A minute later, Rafe strolls down the drive in just a pair of jeans.

“Are you working tomorrow?” I ask.

“Nah. Gonna sleep in.”

I pull on the door handle.

“Thanks for everything, Sutton,” Kyle says.

“You’re welcome.” I stare at him a long moment, then walk around the front of the RV to meet Rafe.

He hugs me and waves to his brother. The RV and trailer, still covered in dried mud, pull away, and I watch the taillights disappear.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kyle—

The smell of the coffee in my mug hits my nose as I lean against my kitchen counter and pull up Jerry’s Auto Repair in Burbank. It’s open until 5:30pm. Scanning, I find a photo of the owner. Jerry’s smiling face stares back at me. “Smile, motherfucker. Soon you’re not going to have any front teeth left. You’ll be drinking through a straw for a long fucking time.”

I take a sip of coffee and map it out on my app. Five hours. That’s a haul, but this is a trip I don’t mind making. The clock on the wall says quarter to noon, and I need to get going if I plan to make it before closing time.

Dumping the dregs of my coffee in the sink, I grab my cut off the back of the chair and head out to my Harley just as TJ pulls in my drive.

Shit.

He shuts his bike off, noticing I’m checking my saddlebags.

“Where are you headed?”

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