“Nonsense. I used to run errands with him all the time.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless it’s Sierra you have a problem with, Tal?”
Oh God. Damn Luke and his inquisitiveness. A denial catches in my throat. Talon reacts too, his expression cracking, color rising in his face.
This could spiral fast.
Because the only thing worse than being caught watching Talon in the shed is Luke finding out about it.
Luke glances back at me, and I try to look normal. For a second, I wonder if he’s doing this on purpose—pushing us together.
But his expression is completely innocent when he asks, “Did you guys fight? Did you insult his grandma or something?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I didn’t. I just?—”
“Fine.” Talon’s voice cuts in, sharp and decisive. Luke’s head snaps back to him. “You can come with me.”
Luke smirks. “You sure, buddy?”
Talon glares but nods, jaw tight.
“Oh no,” I say, raising a hand. “I don’t want to bother him.”
“It’s not a bother. Right, Tal?”
Talon’s face darkens. Then his eyes drop, almost reluctant, and he gives a small shake of his head.
“Great.” Luke takes my shoulders and steers me toward the car, humming under his breath the whole time. He’s always doing that—humming, whistling, making some kind of noise. Silence seems to be his natural enemy.
Once we're settled in, Talon stares up at the sky, makes a quick, almost reverent gesture with his hands, and gets into the driver's seat.
It’s not the most awkward car ride I’ve ever had, but it’s definitely up there.
The tension between us is tight, but somehow Luke doesn’t notice. Or maybe he does and just chooses to ignore it. He talks the entire way, pointing out the new road they built and naming the trees we pass like some kind of tour guide. In a way, it’s kind of sweet how much he clearly loves this place.
“You see that bristlecone pine over there? It’s five thousand years old. Older than civilization. Ancient tribes used to pray to it like it was a god.”
“That’s not a bristlecone pine,” Talon cuts in, the first thing he’s said since we started driving. “It’s a juniper.”
“You sure? It looks like a bristlecone pine.”
“It’s not.”
“How can you even tell? You’re not even looking at it?”
“I don’t need to.”
“Oh, right. I forgot—you know more about trees than people.”
Luke rubs his chin. “I’m guessing that story about the five-thousand-year-old tree granting wishes is just a tourist thing?”
“Most tourists are smart enough not to fall for it,” Talon says, earning an indignant gasp from Luke and a snort from me.
My eyes meet Luke’s in the mirror. He looks amused.
I kind of am too.
Talon may not say much, but when he does, he’s certain.
“Did you hear that, Sierra?” Luke says. “Tal just called me stupid.”