“Welcome aboard,” she says, handing a key and a receipt to Daniel. Lynell meets her eyes and wants to sink into the shadows.

“Thank you,” Daniel says, then tugs Lynell down the hallway to the train.

They keep their two bags close instead of handing them to the baggage handler loading the undercarriage of the train. Daniel keeps hold of Lynell’s hand as they board and walk through the train. Her gaze darts around, jumping from face to face, half expecting that she’ll see murder in one of them.

Most people aren’t paying attention. They shove past each other to find their cabins, herd children onto seats in the public carriages, and push bags into overhead compartments.

It’s Registration Day, the busiest day of each quarter for traveling, and no one knows that Lynell is standing there, expecting a bullet through her head at any moment.

“Come on,” Daniel says.

She cowers away from the brush of a large man’s shoulder and reaches over to grab Daniel’s arm with her free hand. They force their way through the crowd until they are at the back of the car. Lynell sees two free seats and starts towards them, but Daniel pulls on her hand and shakes his head.

“What?” she asks.

“We’re in Cabin F.”

“We have our own room?” Lynell says, eyebrows shooting up.

Daniel smirks, showing off the small dimple in his cheek that she used to love so much. It makes her stomach clench. “You think I’m going to make my gorgeous wife travel coach?” He stares at her as if looking for a response. When he finds none, he shrugs. “Plus, they were the only tickets left at the last minute.”

They head down three more cars before they reach the one with their room. Daniel lets go of Lynell’s hand to fish the key out of his pocket. She takes her moment of freedom to run her fingers through her hair and down her face.

“Here we are,” Daniel says, pushing the door open. It creaks and shudders, banging against the inside wall when pushed all the way open. Daniel tosses the bag on the bed as he walks in.

The bed is barely the size of a full and fills up most of the room. On its right is a small wardrobe built into the wall, and next to it a single chair and the door leading to the small bathroom.

Daniel falls back onto the bed and threads his fingers together behind his head, Lynell hovering in the doorway.

“Well, you going to come in?”

“It’s tiny,” she says.

“At least it’s private.”

“There’s one bed.” The realization that she’ll have to sleep next to Daniel if she wants to sleep at all sends a flush to her cheeks. Hoping he doesn’t notice, she shuts the door and locks it, dropping her bag.

“It’s a twenty-four-hour train ride, Lyn. You’ll be thankful for the bed soon.”

“Don’t call me that,” she says, dropping into the chair.