“I know people, thank you.” Olivia pulled in a breath as if she were about to blow out a hefty number of candles. There was no getting past telling her sister now. “I’m on a mission, actually. I’ve signed up to be a volunteer rescue transporter. I’m picking up two dogs and a cat and taking them to a shelter in O’Fallon.”

“Huh.” Ava was quiet a second. “I didn’t even know that was a thing, but something tells me you’re not kidding.”

“I’m not. Honestly, I didn’t know much about it, either, but it turns out homeless animals are hauled all over the place by drivers working in tandem. There’s this whole world of coordination behind it. Usually it’s to get them into a shelter or a foster home.” Knowing full well what her sister would say, Olivia owned up to the rest. “You’ll never guess where I’m headed to pick them up.”

“When you say it like that, I’m not sure I want to. Death row, I’m guessing?”

“Heavens. I don’t even want to think about that. These guys were caught in the floods.” Her shoulders had nearly tucked up against her ears before she noticed it, and she shoved them down again. Determinedly, she shook her head, sending her long, wavy red hair bouncing back and forth. “New Madrid, believe it or not. They’re holed up in Milton’s Feed Store.”

“Shut. Up. Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“Heck no. I’m hoping to get in and out before anyone’s the wiser.”

“Fat chance in that town, Livy. Why on earth did you agree to that?”

Olivia chewed her lip. Why did she agree to this particular drive? As much as she missed some things about her home, she wasn’t ready to go back. Not even close. It would probably take a couple of years before she could go home without feeling a blanket of shame draped across her shoulders over the way things had played out last fall.

But this had been the first opportunity since she’d been approved as a driver, and she’d been excited to start. When she’d checked her email this morning, she’d swallowed back her reservation and jumped on the mission before she’d been able to talk herself out of it. “It just sort of happened.”

“What about Trevor?”

“What about him?” She’d been thinking about him all morning, had even come close to texting him. She’d gotten past it by reminding herself they were on different journeys now. “It’s been almost six months. With any luck, he’s dating someone by now.”

“Oh, please. Not unless it’s a someone who was trapped in the path of his combine or fell into his lap while he was sitting on the couch reaching for a beer.”