He looked surprisingly sympathetic. “Is that the first time you’ve admitted that your sister might not be telling the whole truth?”

I gave a vague nod, although Sophie had already read between the lines.

“So, do you want my opinion?” he asked.

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Probably not, but I’ll give it to you anyway. You need to go to the sheriff here, tell him what you told me, and ask him to contact the sheriff in New Mexico and set up an interview.”

I debated for less than a second. “Can’t do it.”

“I figured.”

“You have siblings. Would you turn them in?”

“You mean would I turn them in if I worried they were guilty of something, no matter what cock-and-bull story they told me?”

My lips parted to correct him, but I clamped them together. Because, of course, he was right.

“The last time you ignored my advice, you were almost killed and so was I, not to mention the dog at our feet.”

“And the last time you treated me like an idiot, I reacted badly, but you gave me little choice because you weren’t listening.”

We were both silent a moment as the words settled. Finally he spoke. “We aren’t good for each other.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I keep trying to. I managed for almost four years.”

“Yeah, me, too.” I leaned closer. “Do you have any advice I might actually be able to follow?”

He didn’t rise and leave me sitting there. He didn’t argue. I had expected one or the other. Instead he sighed. Then he leaned forward, too, and he kissed me. A brush of his lips, lasting only a second or two, but as momentous as any in my life.

“Maybe we should just be good to each other, and see what happens,” he said.

My brain was frozen, but my body was a river of fire. I cleared my throat. “That will be much easier.” I tunneled my fingers through his hair and brought his face closer for a second kiss.

He finally sat back. “Now that we’re even, finish your sandwich. I have to leave in a few minutes.”

I’m not sure what we talked about while we finished our lunch. I probably babbled. I had hoped we might find a way to be comfortable with each other again, a way to stop blaming each other, a way to stop feeling guilty. I hadn’t dared to hope that after everything and all the time that had passed, we might still find our way back to love.

We cleaned up in silence and headed back to my unit. We were careful not to touch. He didn’t hold my hand. But I felt the new intimacy like a warm cloak.

As he bent over to say goodbye to Bismarck, I put my hand on his arm. I’d just thought of something I needed help with, and it was another way to show that I trusted him.

He straightened. “I’m busy tomorrow,” he said, “but would you like to run by my place on Thursday? This time with me?”