Even if we only talk about work. Work is safe. Personal lives are dicey. Gwen is personal. And I sure as shit don’t want to talk to him about her. I don’t even want to think about her. With him. Clyde’s raspy voice interrupts my spiral. “You should call her.” Her. I don’t even need to ask who he’s talking about. I scoff and roll my eyes as I pull the truck around to head down the back road. Of course, Clyde has to live way the hell and gone—up the back side of the mountain. Something about fewer cameras tracking him. As if anyone wants to track Clyde and his daily puttering around his land.
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