Chapter 22
The highway unrolled ahead of Cole, straight and empty in the morning light.
He kept both hands on the wheel and let the silence sit. Julie was watching the mountains. Noah had his shoulder against the passenger window, turning his phone over in his hands. Nobody had said much since they’d left the county offices, and that was fine. There was nothing useful left to say.
He’d known going in that the review period wouldn’t shorten. Sixty days was sixty days. What he hadn’t anticipated was the insurance assessor’s reaction. He’d used words to describe their security protocol that meant everything and committed to nothing.
Cole thought about what that could mean as he drove.
Jensen’s call was at two. He’d handle that. Madeline was already working on the permit timeline, looking for any angle that could help them. Noah would have the security rotation changed before nightfall. There were steps to take, and Cole knew how to take them.
What he couldn’t account for was the pain in his chest last night and again this morning, as they’d driven to the county offices. It was the same slow dense pressure that he’d felt for months and done nothing about.
He shouldn’t have deleted his appointment with his cardiologist.
Cole’s hand came off the wheel. His palm moved to his chest before he realized what he was doing. He pressed firmly, hoping to relieve the pressure building in his heart. His shoulders pulled together as the pain intensified.
Julie looked across the cab at him. “Are you all right, Cole?”
He winced but nodded. “I’ll be okay.”
“You should pull over,” Noah said from the back seat.
Cole was already easing off the gas. “I’m fine.”
“Pull over,” Noah said again, except this time he wasn’t asking Cole, he was telling him.
Cole brought the truck onto the shoulder and put it in park. He kept his eyes on the road and his hand where it was. Flathead Lake lay somewhere behind the tree line to his left. He could feel it in the air.
Behind him, Noah was already on his phone.
Julie placed her hand on Cole’s arm. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Pressure,” Cole said. “Just pressure. It happens when I—”
“The paramedics are forty minutes out,” Noah said. “It’ll be quicker to drive back to Polson. Cole, I need you to move to the back seat. If you can sit beside Cole, Julie, the dispatcher will talk you through what she needs to know.”
Cole started to say something.
“Don’t argue with me,” Noah said as he opened his door.
Julie got out on her side. Noah came around and helped Cole into the back seat.
Without saying anything, Noah handed Julie his phone, got behind the wheel, and pulled back onto the highway.
Julie put the phone to her ear and spoke briefly to the dispatcher, then listened, her eyes on Cole.
With her free hand, she reached across and rested her fingers lightly on his wrist. Not gripping. Just there. “How long has this been happening?” she asked.
“On and off for a few months.” Cole exhaled. “I had a heart attack six years ago, and it doesn’t feel like that.”
Julie held his gaze, and whatever she saw in his face, she didn’t argue with it. She spoke into the phone again, then listened.
Outside, the mountains held their position against the pale sky. A pair of ravens crossed the road ahead, low and unhurried, and were gone.
Cole thought about his cardiologist. A few years ago, at a project site outside of Cheyenne, he’d driven himself to urgent care and told the doctor he’d eaten something that disagreed with him. His cardiologist was not happy.
Cole inhaled slowly. The pressure hadn’t gone, but it had steadied to something manageable. But that was what he’d always told himself. The pressure would become manageable, and he’d go on with his life.
Julie spoke into the phone again, answering something the dispatcher had asked. Her fingers were still on his wrist. Cole didn’t want her to move them.
“The pressure,” he said quietly. “It’s not getting worse.”
Julie relayed what he’d said, then asked Cole, “Are you short of breath?”
He shook his head. “No.”
While Julie listened to whatever the dispatcher was saying, Cole looked through the window.
For most of his life, he’d believed that if he kept moving forward, the things he’d pushed to one side would eventually sort themselves out.
He’d been telling himself the same thing about his health, and as he’d run through the trees to get help for his grandfather. But it had been too late to matter.
He hadn’t been able to outrun death, and he had a terrible suspicion that he wouldn’t outrun whatever was happening to him today.
Julie ended the call and kept the phone in her lap. She didn’t fill the quiet with reassurance, and he appreciated that more than he could have explained.
“I deleted my cardiologist’s appointment reminder,” Cole said.
Julie looked at him. “I know.”
He turned to face her. “How?”
“You mentioned the appointment at the cottage last week and never said another word about it. You would have told me if something was wrong.”
Something loosened in his chest that had nothing to do with the pressure.
The main road into Polson appeared ahead. Cole saw the familiar rooflines come into view, the low-slung stores, the café he liked with its mismatched chairs. He’d driven down this street many times on his way to meetings, but never with this sense of urgency.
Noah turned another corner, and within minutes they were at the hospital. A nurse was already coming through the entrance with a wheelchair. Cole was going to decline the ride, but one look at Julie and he thought better of it.
Noah helped him out the same way he’d helped him in, hand at the elbow, steady, with no comment made about what was happening.
Julie stayed close. She wasn’t hovering, just present, in the same way she’d been beside him on the morning of the fire and when the plans for the resort were falling apart.
What scared him more than anything, was how much he needed her here.
And how much it would hurt if she left.