Page 27 of Lavender Lake
“No …” I whispered.
“Yeah. But I stopped them in time before they could set them off.” His fingers clenched the wheel and his knuckles began to turn white.
When Bowman fell silent, his eyes still on the road, I prodded, “That’s not the end of the story, is it?”
Bowman looked at me and cracked a grin. “No, that’s not the end of the story. I got expelled for what I did next, but it was worth it. My foster mother was not happy.”
“You grew up in the system?” I asked in surprise.
“Another story for another day,” he said, clamping his mouth shut.
Hmm. Guess he has things he didn’t want to talk about either.
I was now curious about him. More than just the man that he was, but the boy he’d been. And how he’d become a bull rider.
I did not like having curiosity where he was concerned, so I shoved it aside and slapped armor around my heart.
“Hate to break it to you,Caspian, but that isn’t a youthful transgression.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “No. Whatever got you expelled was vigilante justice.”
A smile flitted across his sultry mouth. “Same goes for you. What you did was for your sister.”
“I guess so,” I agreed.
“Ah, so we have something in common.” He looked at me. “We protect the innocent.”
I felt my armor crack. Just a bit.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I guess we do.”
My phone rang, startling me out of the moment. I dug around for it in my bag and saw Hadley’s name flashing across the screen.
I debated silencing it, but if it was about Dad, then I didn’t want to miss the news.
“Hey. Is everything okay with Dad?” I asked as soon as I picked up.
Hadley paused, and then she said, “Dad’s okay. I mean, okay as can be.”
I closed my eyes. “So, this isn’t about Dad?”
“No. You didn’t text me back.”
“Can I call you back in a few minutes?” I asked, glancing at Bowman, who was clearly pretending not to be listening. “We’re almost home.”
“You’re not home yet?”
“We got food at The Diner,” I replied. “And then Gracie stopped me and added pastries. And then Lucy. . .”
“Oh, I see.”
There was a lot going on that was clearly not being said between us, but it wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have over the phone.
“When are you going to be back at the Ridge?” I asked.
“I don’t know. We get to see him for a few minutes at a time, but only every few hours. Muddy’s trying to browbeat a nurse into putting a cot in Dad’s room so she can stay the night.”
