The rest of the ride was fairly quiet. Michael was tired; she could tell by his yawning and the fact that he wasn’t asking lots of questions. The snow continued to fall, and Melody was content to stare out the window at the unspoiled winter landscape. Fields covered in fresh snowflakes, hills capped in white, and trees collecting blankets of ivory on their branches. The radio was off, and even though she could still hear the song as the snow tapped and tinkled against the truck, she was thankful not to be bombarded with holiday music.
Her hand rested next to her on the seat, and while the cab was spacious, she imagined what it might be like if Reid were to reach over and take her hand in his. Of course, she doubted that would happen at all, and particularly not with Michael in the truck.
