Cruz:
The sun had dipped low enough to turn the sky blood orange, bleeding into the horizon like a bad omen. Knox rode beside me, his tires chewing asphalt, the silence between us heavier than it’d been in years. Neither of us had said a word since we left the gas station.
Didn’t need to.
We were five minutes out from the clubhouse when I finally pulled my phone from my cut and dialed Avery.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Cruz?” Her voice was breathless, tight. “Where are you?”
“Just passed mile marker twenty-six. Five minutes out.” I took a breath. “We’re good. Drop went sideways, but we got out.”
I could hear her exhale. A shaky, quiet rush of relief that made my chest ache. “Thank God.”
Her voice cracked, barely there. “I couldn’t get ahold of you. I thought—”
“I know, baby.
