Cookies in one hand and Pepper’s leash in the other, Kelsey headed downstairs. The dogs were awake and ready for the morning routine to begin. Kurt was nowhere in sight. She was dropping the cookies on the counter when she caught sight of his note. Her brow furrowed as she read it.
What did that mean, he hoped to explain in a few days? Certainly it didn’t mean he’d be gone that long.
Or did it?
Her chest tightened at the thought.
Seven years of maturity and figuring out who she was seemed to shrink away. She was that girl from sophomore year again, watching Steve grin at her sheepishly. Sorry, Kels, I just didn’t feel it.
She stumbled out the door onto the back porch, Pepper trailing close behind. Kelsey unhooked the dog after double-checking that no other dogs were out. Pepper trotted down into the open grass to pee, then over to a corner to finish her business.
Kelsey sank into a patio chair and closed her eyes, forcing her breath to be slow and even as she reined in her racing thoughts. She could feel the outline of her phone in her back pocket. She pulled it out and set it on the table. No missed calls, and her battery was almost dead.
She unlocked it and opened her texts, clicking on Kurt’s number and typing out a message.
Saw your note. Things are good here. Take all the time you need. And I agree.
She gave Pepper another few minutes to sniff around, then called her up. She was sliding her phone into her pocket when it vibrated with a new text. Half holding her breath, she looked at the screen.
Thank you. Will explain soon. Tess will help feed until I get back.
It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t nothing either.
Her phone vibrated with a warning that she was down to two percent. Then it vibrated again with another text.
I love you, Kelsey.
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away and took a single, deep breath. “I think I knew that already, but thank you for saying it, Kurt Crawford.”
* * *
Kurt was hardly even out of the city and over the Missouri River bridge before doubt crept in about the decision to drive over halfway across the country in hopes of a bit of clarity. He silenced it with heartfelt assurance that this was what he needed to do.
He wasn’t one to believe in ghosts, but he’d heard enough stories to know not to discount deep, personal connections between people. He’d learned firsthand of military parents and spouses who knew intimate details of their beloved soldiers’ deaths before being told. Maybe it was a touch of ESP or something that was yet to be understood. In any case, he was determined not to rethink the decision.
Frankie seemed to enjoy the ride. As soon as the Mustang’s wheels hit the highway, he curled up and went to sleep. He wasn’t the first dog with a perplexing history. Considering the horrific condition he’d been in, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he had little interest in human companionship. The fact that he was so willing to connect was not only touching but a sign that, at some point, he’d been well cared for.
Kurt’s short doze alongside Kelsey had provided the fuel needed to drive till dawn. As the sky lightened behind him, he pulled off at a truck stop south of Lincoln, Nebraska. He fueled up and let Frankie drink out of a spigot at the side of the building. Then he led him on a twenty-minute walk down an adjoining two-lane road marked by a narrow strip of woods and fields stretching out on either side. The sun rose over the horizon, and the fields came to life with birdsong in the chilly fall morning. He stopped to watch a hawk on a wire preening its tail while Frankie sniffed and marked new territory.
Determining it wasn’t too early, Kurt checked in with Tess to confirm that she would be able to hang out at the Raven estate for the next few days to help with the feeding and keep the training sessions going. Then his phone buzzed with the text from Kelsey. Take all the time you need. Her saying it didn’t surprise him. He pulled up her number and was about to hit Dial when he felt his throat locking up. There was so much he wanted to tell her, and it was infuriating that he couldn’t. He shot off a text that didn’t come close to penetrating the surface. Then, after slipping his phone into his pocket, he pulled it out and added that he loved her, one too-small step in building a bridge between the life he imagined and one he’d grown comfortable with.
When they made it back to the gas station, Kurt drove to the quiet, back corner of the parking lot, cracked the windows, and fell into an easy, dreamless doze. He was thankful he’d taken Thomas’s advice to replace the original front seats with models that reclined. The Mustang was doing remarkably well for so much road time, but it hadn’t been designed for comfort and cross-country trips. He woke with a kink in his neck that brought to mind some of the soldiering nights he’d spent without a bed and made him wish he’d thought to grab a pillow.
He gave Frankie a pat and headed into the truck stop for a ready-made breakfast burrito, a gargantuan black coffee, and a small bag of dog chow. When he got back, he led Frankie to a narrow strip of grass in front of the car and slit the bag
