“How was the flight?” he said, leading her to baggage claim. During their separation, they had used a tool called WhatsApp to communicate, but Cassidy had limited service so they had plenty to catch up on during their two-hour drive to Eugene.
“Okay,” she said, yawning. “My flight to Houston landed late so I had to run to get my connection.”
They waited, hand in hand, at the baggage carousel. “I feel like I could sleep for a week,” she said. “How are the edits coming?” She knew that Pete would have been working on them day and night since meeting with his editor during his trip.
“Good,” he said. “I’m plugging along.”
“That’s awesome,” she replied, yawning again.
Her backpack slid down the chute, and Pete grabbed it, hoisting it onto one shoulder. He kissed her again and despite her exhaustion, her blood thumped in anticipation of being with him again. He broke away and smiled. “Let’s get you home.”
During the drive, Pete told her about his trip to San Francisco, about meeting his editor and the marketing team, about staying with Quinn. “His bar is the hot spot, man,” Pete said. “I had no idea he was such a hipster.”
“I’m sure he showed you a good time,” Cassidy said, leaning her seat way back.
“That he did,” Pete replied. He told her a story about walking the waterfront and talking to people, about taking Quinn’s motorcycle for a spin. “So fun, Cass, I’d forgotten what that feels like.”
Cassidy gave him a look. “You ride motorcycles?”
“On the farm I did. We had all kinds of vehicles. I drove tractors, too.”
Cassidy laughed. “I’m sure you did.”
Pete told her about driving the Marin Headlands. “There’s surfers all over the place. I thought about you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Maybe I’ll buy us a bike, and you can ride on the back.”
“That sounds very poetic,” she said. “But they’re really not that comfortable.”
“You ride motorcycles too?” he said, giving her a surprised look.
“Just Quinn’s,” she said, yawning again.
Pete told her about bar-hopping with Quinn and going for long runs through the city. Cassidy tried to listen, but her eyelids refused to stay open. No matter how hard she tried to stay awake, she felt herself slipping blissfully away.
The sound of the car door shutting pulled her from sleep. Pete was unlocking the front door, her backpack slung over his shoulder. Cassidy noticed that Reeve’s disassembled van was gone. Cassidy sighed. Where was Reeve now? Back in jail? Maybe he would go back to rehab. Or had they let him walk?
Pete returned, opened the car door carefully, then smiled when he saw that she was awake. Cassidy stretched and took his hand, feeling her skin tingle.
Inside, their house glowed with the soft light from the floor lamp. A feeling of warmth and belonging enveloped her. “Hey, what’s this?” she asked, stroking the fabric of a new couch.
“I figured it was time for an upgrade anyways,” he said with a one-sided grin.
Cassidy knew that she wouldn’t have been comfortable on her old couch again, not after seeing Reeve and his girlfriend use it. That Pete had handled replacing it before she returned filled her with gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling him towards her. She kissed him softly, and he kissed her back, his hands smoothing over her shoulders. A gentle breeze from the open windows tickled the backs of her legs. She stepped closer to Pete and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Vamos a la cama,” she said.
In the morning, she woke to the sound of the coffeemaker beeping. A moment later Pete entered the bedroom, dressed only in his boxers and wooly socks, carrying a steaming mug. He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. He gave her the cup of coffee and left the room. Cassidy sipped the coffee—made the way she liked it, flavorful but not too strong and ultra-hot—and sighed. After another sip, she put the coffee on the bedside table and closed her eyes again. Normally she didn’t take time to rest like this, but her body ached from carrying the heavy loads all over Arenal’s slopes. Her hands were blistered and shredded from digging in the volcanic soil, and her brain was tired from all the socializing with team members in her rusty Spanish. Plus, Pete had kept her up late. She smiled.
After she woke again, Pete whipped up a simple breakfast. Then they set off to pick blackberries at a patch down the street, Cassidy carrying a bucket, Pete a mixing bowl. The late-summer sun warmed her shoulders as they walked. After wearing hiking boots all week, her toes appreciated the freedom of her sandals.
“So, a crazy thing happened when I was with your brother,” Pete said.
“Crazy things always happen with Quinn,” she said with a smile.
He gave her a look, but it wasn’t the lighthearted one she expected. “We were out bopping around, you know, checking out the competition, I guess.” He paused. “We ran into these guys, and Quinn knew one them.”
This wasn’t news. Quinn had more best friends than anyone she knew. Cassidy glanced at Pete curiously.
“One works for this investigative news outlet.” They stopped at the end of their block then crossed the street. “Name’s Brad. We got to talking. He knew some of my stories.”
“Wow, that’s cool,” Cassidy said. “So did you two collaborate until the sun came up, planning a new world order?”
Pete didn’t laugh.
Cassidy stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I guess he was pretty drunk. I think he may have offered me a job, though,” he said. They turned a corner, dodging a lawn sprinkler, though its mist dampened their legs. “It’s all freelance writers there,” he added quickly. “He’s got this story, but it’s really rough, with shady sources, that kind of thing. He seemed really eager to hand it off to someone.”
“Huh,” Cassidy said. “What’s the story?”
“I guess there’s these free clinics for teen runaways, but the staff behind them
