Chapter 8
TRACE
I watched the last of the stars fade into the deep purple of the predawn sky as I pulled into Hush, Colorado. Eleven hours of driving, and I’d had so much coffee I felt like I could pedal the rental car Fred Flinstone–style if I had to.
But there was no way I was going to show my face to Wolfe like this, even if I was lucky enough to be in the same town as he was. I needed sleep, and I needed it desperately.
Thankfully, I’d done my research with a long train of awkward—and only semi-successful—verbal requests to Siri during my drive, and discovered Hush had no hotels or short-stay rentals.
There was only a single campground, which meant I needed to get a tent and sleeping bag or stay in nearby Montrose.
I’d managed to find an outdoor store off the interstate about fifteen minutes before they’d closed last night. I’d picked up a small tent, a sleeping bag with pad, and a few other camping supplies before getting back on the road.
When I pulled into the Tater Heap Campground just before sunrise, I planned to confirm Wolfe’s presence, then pitch my tent out of view and catch a few hours of sleep before approaching him.
I hadn’t thought about reserving a site ahead of time, but luckily, there were plenty available. I took a campground map from the “Late Arrivals, No Reservations” caddy on the door and selected a site close to the front entrance so I could keep an eye on vehicles coming and going.
Since I was in a rental car and already had a ball cap on, I didn’t worry about Wolfe noticing me.
I pulled into the spot as quietly as I could, read the instructions for the tent from the privacy of the vehicle, then stepped out to set it up under the tree at the back of the large site.
Thankfully, I’d put up many tents over the past two decades, so I had the thing ready in minutes.
After tossing the essentials inside, I headed for the camp restroom.
On my way back to the site, it was finally light enough to make out the shapes of the other vehicles nearby.
After all the photos I’d found online, Wolfe’s group was easy to spot. There was VotoBren’s green van. VanLifeVal’s dark gray van. A small silver Airstream camper that might have belonged to Thierry Capron. And there, between the Airstream and the green van, was a black van with California plates.
I took a quick photo of the plates in case I lost track of him, then quickly climbed into my tent. It took all of my self-control not to go bang on his door and beg him to talk to me, but I knew that wouldn’t be fair to either one of us.
Besides, I had no fucking idea what to say.
I’m sorry I kissed you, but I’m going to need to do it again.
I can’t be with you, but I can’t be without you either.
Tell me I’m not the reason you ran. Please.
I shoved foam earplugs into my ears and pulled on a sleep mask, fully expecting to toss and turn for a while before succumbing to sleep. Instead, I fell asleep quickly, the stress from the previous few days and the weeks of backcountry camping before that catching up to me.
I woke sweating a few hours later with the sun beaming through the tent’s nylon shell and my sleeping bag tangled around my legs. It took me a few minutes to remember where I was, and then I quickly shoved out of the bag and tent and glanced in the direction of Wolfe’s van.
Gone.
Thankfully, his friends’ vehicles were still there. Since they’d been traveling together for a few weeks now, I hoped that meant he hadn’t gone far. I took a few minutes to shower in the campground bathroom and change into clean clothes before hopping in my rental and heading out in search of food.
It seemed the only place serving lunch was Jake’s Place, which I’d seen in several of the photos on Instagram. I pulled into the little gravel lot and found Wolfe’s van parked on the far side of the building.
Fuck. Was this where I wanted to confront him?
Might as well. Better than running the risk of him leaving. It would be just my luck that today would be the day he decided to split from the group and travel somewhere else.
I trudged inside and was surprised to find Wolfe sitting at a table with a very young woman. As I stepped closer, I recognized her from one of the social media accounts.
BGShay was chatting happily at him while playing a few chords on the guitar when she spotted me.
“Hey! Take any seat. Do you want coffee?”
Wolfe turned to see who she was talking to… and froze.
“Hi,” I said, trying to put a world of apology into my facial expression and body language.
“W-what are you…?” He swallowed and shifted in his seat, cheeks blooming pink in a way that hit me center mass. “What are you doing here?”
The young woman must’ve sensed the tension. She set the guitar down and stood. “Coffee?”
I nodded without taking my eyes off Wolfe. “Thanks.”
As soon as she moved out of earshot, I took one of the empty seats at his table. “Your dads were worried about you,” I said softly.
His face dropped, and then his jaw tightened as he glanced down at his half-empty plate of food. “Oh.”
He looked disappointed, and I realized belatedly that I’d said the wrong thing.
“I was, too,” I admitted. “Leaving without any explanation isn’t like you.”
Wolfe’s eyes stayed on his plate. “As if you know anything about me anymore.”
The arrow struck true, right in my chest. My only saving grace was the conditional “anymore,” giving me credit for the years I’d known him better than almost anyone. There had been a time when we’d talked about all kinds of things.
A time that came to a swift end six years ago.
“Maybe that’s fair. But I still care. You know that’s true, I hope.” My fingers itched to touch Wolfe. To smooth the messy hair over one eyebrow and feel the warmth of his skin. I kept my hands to myself out of sheer will.
“Sure. Because you think I’m a kid who needs minding,” Wolfe hissed. “I’m very clear on that.”
“Because you’re a part of my family,” I whispered back. “And because you’re…”
Precious. Important. Mine.
I didn’t speak the words, but I thought them. Felt them.
He sucked in a breath, held it, then let it out before meeting my eyes again. “I’m fine. You can see that. So you can go now. Tell Papa and Dad I’m okay. Report back to your bestie like a good friend.”
I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and smoothed that piece of hair.
Wolfe’s eyes widened, and he jerked back, making me realize I’d made a mistake yet again.
I carefully returned my hand to my lap and murmured an apology, but before he could say anything, a man came over and set my coffee down.
“Everything okay here, Will?”
I glanced up at the guy. I remembered him from my Instagram searches.
Jake. Of Jake’s Place.
Tall and good-looking. Because of course he was.
“Everything’s fine,” I said.
“Doesn’t look fine.” The man gave me a hard look. “And I didn’t ask you.”
I stared at him. What the fuck? Maybe I should have been grateful the guy was watching out for his patrons. But the heated way he watched Wolfe suggested it was personal, and that raised my own protective instincts. It was none of his goddamn business.
Wolfe looked miserable. “I’m fine, Jake. Thank you. Trace was just leaving.”
Jake looked at me expectantly. My chest tightened. But I could tell Wolfe was uncomfortable, and I knew he hated confrontation of any kind.
“Howbout I move to another table?” I suggested. “I actually came in for some food.”
Jake tilted his head. “Mm. Sorry. We don’t serve food.”
Not only was there a sign out front saying they did, but Wolfe’s own plate was still on the table in front of us.
“Fine,” I said, feeling exhaustion overtake me again. I had a pack of peanut butter crackers in my car. They’d have to do for now. “I’ll go.”
As I stood, I caught a brief moment of disappointment on Wolfe’s face. Within seconds, it was gone, replaced by a firm chin and a fake expression of disinterest.
But it had been there. I’d caught it.
I met his eye. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Call me if you need me.”
He looked away. “I won’t.”
I exhaled and nodded before throwing down a few bucks for my untouched coffee and walking out.
Before heading back to the campground, I pulled into the gas station to fill up. If Wolfe decided to bolt, I wanted to be ready to follow him.
Thankfully, there was a small grocery attached to the gas station, so I stocked up on fruit, a couple of pastries, bottled water, and two sandwiches.
When I made it back to the campground, I set up at the site’s picnic table and devoured one of the sandwiches and an apple before reaching out to Derek.
I found Wolfe at a campground in Hush, Colorado. He’s safe and seems okay.
Derek
I thought you were going home?
It’s on the way.
Derek
You don’t need to drive twenty hours for fuck’s sake. I’m happy to pay for a flight.
I rolled my eyes. As if I needed his fucking money for a plane ticket.
You know me. I can’t leave before I lock eyes on the target. Call it a SaR hangup.
Derek
Bullshit. You’ve done it a million times.
He wasn’t wrong. As soon as we knew the target was secure, that was all that mattered. But Wolfe wasn’t a target. He was family.
I was worried. Now I’m not.
Which was a lie. I was very worried. I was worried he was still hurting. Worried he was happier without me. That he’d gotten over that kiss or that it hadn’t ever meant as much to him as it had to me.
Worried about the way that man had looked at him, had gone out of his way to protect him as if pissing in a circle around the guy.
Jake.
I pulled out my phone and began researching again, starting with the Jake’s Place hashtag.
Jake Mason didn’t seem to have social media himself, but he ran a very simple account for his bar and restaurant, posting hours and menu updates periodically.
I shot the name over to JJ at On Your Six and asked him to run a more thorough background check on the guy.
JJ
What’s this for? Something to do with Wolfe? Any luck finding him?
He’s in Hush, Colorado. Safe and sound.
JJ
And?