“Thank you,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.” Tristan’s embrace tightened. She was sure it did. For just a moment, everything was warm. It smelled like diesel fuel and mown grass and eighteen years of memory. The world Tristan had created for them overtook her and they were lying in the bed of her truck, laughing and whispering and staring at the stars. The whole sky was open above them and they were home. Ashley breathed it in one last time, and then it faded away. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was gone. Tristan Granger was dead, and he was gone.
