“You must’ve known you were going to lose service. You could’ve called before that.”

She held back a huff. “It’s not like I planned this, Jeremy. Plus, my battery died. Cell service doesn’t matter if your phone’s dead.”

He turned his back on her to glare at the microwave. “You managed to text your dad. You let him know where you were.”

“Is that what this is about?” She cursed the pain and weariness in her forehead. “I was lucky to send any texts at all.”

“But why him and not me?”

“It all happened so fast. I knew he’d be able to figure out what I meant.”

“And I wouldn’t?”

She threw up her hands. “I don’t know—you tell me. Do you know where Whitetail Pass Road is?”

The microwave dinged, and he pushed the button to open it. He pulled the plate out and practically flung it on the counter, still not looking at her. “No. But I would’ve found it. I would’ve done whatever it took to get to you.”

“And how would you have gotten there?” Her voice was strained and heated. “I had your stupid car, and you don’t know how to drive Dad’s truck.”

He spun around, hurt darkening the blue of his eyes. “It’s our stupid car. And I could’ve gotten your dad to drive.”

“Which is why I texted him in the first place.”

There. She’d said it. The words hung unappealing and ominous between them, but they were true. When the split-second moment of decision had come, she’d known her dad was the better person to contact. Even if he had been the reason she’d gone out in the first place. Even if he was going to say “I told you so” about the tires on the car. She’d known she could count on him.

Jeremy was her husband, and she loved him, but in the moment of crisis, he’d seemed so untested. What had they really been through together? How would she know if she could trust him to come through?

He set a plate in front of her with a clunk. “You should eat something.”

She stared at her lap, avoiding his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

He turned to leave, and those pesky tears welled up again. They burned.

“Please.” Her constricted throat barely allowed the word to slip through. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave me alone.”

Her body trembled as she fought against the sobs that wanted to burst from her mouth. What a horrible day. What a stinking, rotten pile-of-hot-coffee kind of day.

Jeremy’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder.

She stiffened in surprise, then leaned her cheek against his tattooed forearm, feeling the cross on her skin. “I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was low and strained. “I don’t know what you need from me.”