She nods, clearly not believing me. Her eyes grow tight as her lip lifts a tad. She looks to the ground, tilting her head. “That was some break you got, huh?”

One thing I learned well during all those years I owned an illegal gambling operation was a solid poker face. If Harlow came fishing for answers about how I got out, she’s getting jack shit from me.

“It’s been a pleasure, Harlow. Tell my brother I said hello.” I turn to walk, and she calls after me.

“If you remember anything…anything at all, you make sure you reach out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say before I continue to walk.

I open the truck door and climb in next to my wife. I look to the back, seeing that Rylee is buckled in correctly.

“I know how to do it,” K says with an eye roll.

“Did I say anything?” I ask, putting the truck in gear.

“You looked.”

“I was just checking on our baby,” I tell her. I reach over and squeeze her knee before putting my hand on the wheel and hitting the gas. We bought a new truck for Rylee. My classic cars aren’t very baby-friendly on the inside, and now my favorite one that Austin built is totaled.

I have more, but that was the car, man.

The drive-in car, the rooftop car, the first date to Monnie’s diner car. It’s been with us since the beginning. Cars shouldn’t mean so much, but sometimes they do.

“So, are you going to tell me what that was about?” she asks.

I drive with one hand, already getting a headache, because even though I’ve tried to convince myself K didn’t need to know the details about the wreck, I’ve realized that’s the dumbest shit ever.

I got shot.

Harlow was waiting for us outside of the hospital.

My girl is many things, but she isn’t stupid.

I sigh. “When we get home, okay?”

She eyeballs me, but then she nods. “Okay, baby. When we get home.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kathrine

Accidents happen every day. I wasn’t paying attention, I forgot to look, I slipped up, but that wreck was no accident. I know deep in my gut that something else is going on here.

Bryce hasn’t talked to me about it. We’ve both been so focused on getting better for Rylee, and then we had at least two or three family members at the hospital with us every day, so it wasn’t easy to have a serious conversation.

Or maybe we’ve just been avoiding it.

Bryce pulls up to our house, and we enter the carport. The lights blink on, and I open the truck door, carefully turning and gripping onto the “oh shit handle” as I climb out. Because of my banged-up condition, I’m having a hard time doing simple things like get out of a car, pull my pants up, and really just being.

It sucks, but I’m alive and so is my family.

With his good arm, Bryce grabs Rylee out of the back, and we three enter the house. I breathe in that sweet scent.

“Welcome home, Rylee girl,” I tell her as he sets her car seat onto the counter. She’s asleep, though, so she’s clueless. I pull the handle back on the car seat and kiss her forehead, just marveling at how perfect she is.

“Are you hungry?” I ask my husband after I stop staring at our baby. Bryce leans against the counter, watching me watch her.

“What?” I say as I open the fridge, thinking I’ll make us an egg sandwich or something easy, but holy shit at the food we have in here.