Page 77 of The Lonely Road

“Good.”

But later, in the dark, I lie awake and listen to the creek, doubts finding their way into my heart and my head as Mason sleeps beside me.

The Bear Dance is a specific invitation. A “this is my world, come into it” invitation.

I’ve never brought anyone. Not Griffin or anyone before him who was serious enough to ask.

I invited Mason so soon after we started seeing each other.

Am I being stupid, weaving a fantasy that he’ll stay? Because he’s told me that he’s only passing through.

I close my eyes and make a decision.

I won’t ask him how long he’s going to stay, just as I didn’t ask about his past loves—because he’s not ready to tell me, and I’m not prepared to hear his truth.

CHAPTER 18

mason

Iwas raised by a father who always insisted that the man drives—but I’m not my father, so I have no problem riding shotgun with Taya because that means I get to watch the land.

Somewhere around Montrose, I give up resisting my instincts and need, stop watching the landscape and watch her instead.

She’s wearing a dress the color of the earth around Ignacio—a deep ochre red, long, with a pattern at the hem in geometric shapes. Over it, she has on a light-blue cashmere cardigan.

Her hair is in two braids today, not her usual. Silver earrings, large, with turquoise stones, which move when she turns her head.

She dressed carefully this morning.

I watched her as she did, while I got ready myself. The domesticity of the moment, of sharing a bathroom, of a fragile caress as she passed by me, a kiss on her mouth from me because I can’t resist her.

The way I’m with her, which is new and not something I thought a man like me could want, settles in me like a stone in still water—heavy and inevitable.

She glances over. “What?”

“You’re very beautiful.”

She flushes. It’s charming.

“You’re a smooth talker, Mr. Brooks.”

“So says the counselor!”

She laughs, and my heart lightens.

I like to see her like this.

And that’s when the dark thoughts surface—because once she loses this case and knows it’s because of me, this laughter will disappear. I’m not being dramatic here or overemphasizing my impact on her. I am aware that there is something strong between us, and we will both be affected adversely when it ends.

Since it’s a foregone conclusion and not something I can do anything about, I let it go. I’m good at letting things go. It’s a skill a man with moral flexibility comes by organically.

The landscape changes—and canyon country gives way to wide open spaces as we drop south. The valley floor broadens, the mesa walls step back, and the sky gets bigger as the mountains stop holding it in.

We pass through Ouray, and then the road begins its long curve toward Durango. The San Juan Basin opens up on the left like a held breath finally released.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she remarks.

We haven’t talked for fifteen minutes because my gaze has been arrested by the vista unfolding in front of us.