but was clearly listening. “Vanna Reicht. I live a few miles from here, and I happen to have an empty bedroom now since my son’s moved off on his own.” And protective as all get out of his independence, too. The last time she’d shown up at Kitt’s apartment unannounced he’d spent the hour texting responses to her questions, illustrating how unnecessary the visit was. In his mind at least. Hugged her hard when she’d left though. Boys. She smiled at the memory. “He’s in the city up in Georgia, so the room sits empty. It would be a safe haven for you tonight, if you wanted.” The girl was already shaking her head in negation of the offer, and Vanna held up her palms to stave off the verbal response. “My husband is headed home now, and if I know that man, he’ll roll in midnight or later. It’d be a blessing to me if I wasn’t tottering around the house alone until then. You’d be doing me a favor, if we look at it like that. I’m not a fan of storms.”
“I—I don’t like storms much either.”
Vanna pulled in a relieved breath. That’s not a no.
“We’ve time. I’m going to go ahead and trot my happy hiking ass up the trail a couple of miles. I promised a friend to send photos of this tiny wet weather waterfall that’s not far. It’s dry right now, at least until that rain comes, and the rock formations are amazing. When I get back, we can pack you up and go grab a real lunch.” She shoved the rest of the protein bar into her mouth and grinned as she chewed. The girl smiled back, and the expression provided a glimpse of the kind of beauty that lay behind the bruising. Vanna swallowed, took a drink of water, and tipped her head towards the girl. “You’re welcome to walk with me if you want. It’s not a hard hike.”
“I’ll stay here if it’s all the same to you.” The girl’s fingers danced over the tops of the clothing stacks again. She glanced up at the awkwardly tied tarp. “I can be ready whenever you’re back.”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan.” Vanna stood and shoved her trash into the side pouch of her daypack. She slung it into place on her shoulders and grinned, tipping her chin up so a splash of sunlight struck her face, basking in the warmth for a moment. “I’ll be back in a bit. Shouldn’t be long.” Two strides towards the trailhead, she paused and partially turned back, looking at the girl over her shoulder. “Happy to call you Stan, but give some thought to trusting me with your name, honey?”
“I’m Myrt.” The girl’s smile faltered and faded, chin dipping towards her chest. “Rhymes with dirt.”
That had led them here, where a child-bride named Myrtle Sallabrook sat at her table. And now Vanna had to explain to Truck. Shoulda texted him. “Hey, there, you.” She snuggled into his side, hoping to pull his attention back to her, but his gaze stayed fixed on Myrt. Nothing for it, might as well dive in. “Myrt, this is my husband, Truck. Love of my life, this is Myrtle. She’s gonna stay with us for a few days.” Vanna had needed to argue hard with the girl to get her to agree to even that much. Convinced she’d be a burden, Myrt had persistently demurred, refusing to consider more than one night until Vanna had asked straight out for her to stay. No half-baked qualifiers about being company, or helping Vanna get through the storm—simply a plain offer to stay with no strings or expectations, and the girl had accepted with an almost regal nod. Someone prefers honesty over white lies. “I found her like a sprite in the forest this morning, and she agreed to grace our home.”
“Who did that to you, kid?” Truck’s arm behind Vanna’s back was rigid, and Vanna had no illusions about the anger he was holding at bay. The man’s heart was big as Texas, and his caring way was one of the things she loved about him. He had an innate way with children and animals, too, as if they could see through to the gooey center of him at a glance.
“My husband, sir.” His deft touch proved true once again, as Myrt answered his direct question, where she’d easily dodged Vanna’s sideways advances on the same information for the entire afternoon and evening. “And