Page 70 of Thornhill Road

Having reached the people with whom I needed to speak, I decided to take advantage of my moment alone and call Mustang. I wasn’t sure if he’d answer, but I wanted to try to hear his voice before I settled for a text.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, baby. You on your way?”

I could hear the muffled sounds of the bar in the background, and I was sure he’d stepped into the back hallway to take my call. I frowned, realizing I actually didn’t feel up to hanging out at the bar until closing—even if Mustang was there.

“No, actually. I’ll be a little while longer. But, babe, I’m not sure the bar is where I want to be tonight. My patient died, and I’m feeling a bit drained. Maybe we should just plan on meeting in the morning?”

He hesitated a couple seconds, then said, “Stop by the bar. I’ll give you my key, you can let yourself in.”

I dropped my gaze to my sneakers.

I liked that idea. A lot.

Still, I asked, “Are you sure?”

“Tess? Stop by the bar. I’ll give you my key.”

I could picture his face as he repeated himself, the same face he made every time he felt the need to drive his point home, and a small smile tugged at my lips.

“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Sugar?”

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

I brought my gaze back up to admire the colors streaked across the sky with the rapidly setting sun.

“Yeah. I’m good,” I answered honestly.

“See you in a bit.”

“Bye, babe.”

He disconnected and I slipped my phone into my pocket but didn’t turn to head back inside. I wanted to watch the sun disappear.

It was almost over the horizon when the front door opened, and Lance stepped outside.

His blond hair was tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He’d been pretty quiet since I arrived, and I felt for him. I really did.

“Hey,” he muttered softly, shutting the door behind him.

“Hi, Lance. Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked carefully.

He furrowed his brow, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He stared at me for a minute, and I didn’t break his silence, sensitive to his state of mind.

Finally, he said, “It’s strange. You’ve been a part of our lives for months. Now, what, I just won’t see you anymore?”

“Well,” I began, thinking fast in an effort to choose my words wisely. “Gillette isn’t so big that we won’t run into each other from time to time, I’m sure.”

“And what if I want to see you more than that?”

“Oh, Lance, I—”

“We wouldn’t have been able to get through this without you,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to me. “I—Iwouldn’t have been able to get through this without you. The way you kept my brother and me from ripping each other’s heads off? Reminding us of what was important.”

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