Luke blinked, slightly caught off-guard by her unaffected response to his internal shirt war. Charlie insisting that he [i]wasn’t[/i] an asshole was like finding a $100 on the ground. Sheer luck. It also confirmed that he was making a big deal out of something that was completely normal and didn’t need to be a thing. They had enough bullshit already – he didn’t need to go around and make up his own on top of it all.

“It doesn’t bother me,” he announced loudly at Charlie’s back as he followed her outside. [i]This time, anyway.[/i] He put on his sunglasses and stuck another toothpick in his mouth. It was a vain attempt to cut back on smoking. He still went through half a pack a day, but it was better than the two packs he sucked down whenever he was deployed.

As soon as he got in the truck and turned it on, his phone connected to Bluetooth and started playing Patsy Cline, which he’d been listening to during yesterday’s bus ride in. Luke jabbed at the console and changed it to satellite radio, a sports talk station, so it was something to both listen to and ignore at the same time. He stuck an elbow out he window while he drove, making mental notes to fill in some spots of the small dirt road that led to the farmhouse before winter hit and it was all shot to hell. At every opportunity, he wiped dust off all surfaces he could reach. Sam usually took his truck out a few times while Luke was gone, but he clearly hadn’t been able to do that in the last month and a half.

Luke talked about dumb shit until the fields gave way to residences, and finally the town center itself. [i]The stop sign still has buckshot in it, huh? That house hasn’t sold yet? Are you hungry? Should we stop for sandwiches?[/i]

Hingham Valley proper was an elementary-junior-high combo, the feed store, a small supermarket, the church, the library – small town stuff. Because it was one of the last stops before things got truly scarce closer to the Centennial Mountains, there was also some tourist shit, like coffee shops and an outdoor gear exchange. Most residents didn’t need things like a mechanic because they just found someone they knew to help with the work.

They did, however, need a police station. It was smaller, but most of it worked closely with the livestock commission. People there didn’t care much about speeding, and the only crimes that really existed had to do with drunken fights and cattle.

Luke’s truck rolled into the lot, and he’d barely parked before Mack Jennings, one of the commissioners, came out the front door with his police vest and Oakleys on. He waved at them, his other hand stuck in the armpit of his vest. His homebase was in Helena, but boy did he love coming around to all the farms and ranches to check on cattle numbers. “Good morning!” Mack called out. “Hot out here, ain’t it?”

Luke just kind of squinted at him and didn’t wave back. Now, perhaps, he was being an asshole. 

Another officer came out of the building, followed by Anna, who was carrying a clear plastic bag, containing what Luke assumed were the things from his pockets a year ago.

Anna Bowers was shorter, with dark blond hair and a big smile. Her often sunny demeanor deluded strangers into thinking she was a pushover, but as far as Luke was concerned, she was as hard-nosed as they came. She’d worked like hell to be chief.

“Saw you in the drive,” she said, coming right up to the driver’s side and putting her elbows in the window. “Thought I’d save you from coming inside.” The bag was clutched in her hand, but she didn’t give it to him yet. “Hi, Charlie. Good to see you – ”

They were interrupted by Mack coming around to the [i]other[/i] side of the Ram and leaning against the passenger’s side door. He started talking to Charlie, and Luke muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “Jesus fucking Christ” before he asked Anna to move so he could open the door. [i]Get me out of this truck.[/i]

“You have a second?” he asked her. “I want to talk to you.”

Anna was all grins and an aggravating amount of what Luke suspected was [i]gleeful[/i] as she followed him far enough away from the truck that he could no longer hear Mack’s voice.

“It’s nice to see you too,” she laughed. “Here’s your stuff. Nothing much, but it is technically yours, so I have to return it.” It was spare change, a punch card to the feed store, and half-empty pack of chewing gum. 

Luke stared at her, but he couldn’t read her expression behind her aviators. “And what else?” he pressed.

“Nothing else.”

“Anna, for fuck’s sake – ”

“Listen, I know you don’t want people to hang on you about Sam, so I figured I’d never actually see you unless I created a reason.” She wasn’t wrong. He was dreading having the whole town apologize to him, especially because Sam was the golden boy and his death was sudden and tragic. He didn’t want to be treated like a sad, lonely leper because his entire family was dead now. “I told you I was sorry when you were in Germany,” she reminded him, “and I’m going to leave it at that. Okay? But I’m here, Luke. If you need anything. Ever.”

He fought the urge to light up a cigarette. “I know. And I appreciate it, I do – I just…” His gaze wandered back to the truck, and Anna caught it.

“How’s she holding up?”

Luke shook his head and didn’t answer because he didn’t really know how to. He doubted Charlie ate or slept. She seemed like she was on autopilot most of the time, but he got her out of the house, which he considered to be a big step. From even fifteen feet away, he saw Mack’s gun touch the side of the truck when he talked to Charlie, and a tendon in his neck threatened to come out of his skin. “If that fucker scratches my paint, I’m going to kill him.”

Anna put his hand on his chest. “Relax. She’s pretty, doesn’t have kids, and everyone knows she just got two hundred acres and is sitting on a gold mine. Mack just has a little less grace than other people. Luke. Look at me.” He did. “I know that you two are basically like this living HBO drama, but this town cares about you both. A lot. Nobody is out to take anything away from you.” There was also an implicit “anyone” in there somewhere, but Luke chose to ignore it.

“What does that mean? HBO drama – ” He cursed when he saw Mack put a hand on top of the passenger's door mirror, and he shouted across the lot. “Enough! Jesus fuck! Are you an idiot?" Luke approached the tailgate and pointed at Mack when he got closer. "Five feet from the truck. Back up."