“No, thank you,” Luke said.

Simultaneously, Finley said, “We do!”

They looked at each other.

“I’d love to pan for gold,” Finley said before Luke could shoot the idea down. At the very least, it would buy him time to decompress.

The guide handed Finley two pans and explained the process. Water burbled down the chute that she and Luke had to themselves. “What’s not fun about this?” She submerged her pan.

“It’s fifty-three degrees out here.”

“And this water is freezing,” she acknowledged. “But that only makes it more invigorating.” She shot him a challenging look, then nudged his unclaimed pan toward him with her elbow.

Grudgingly, he took it and mimicked her actions.

“I’d like to know more about the years following your departure from Misty River,” she said.

“No.”

“Yes.” Finley knew he planned to run away to Montana, but he’d already left Misty River once before, and it hadn’t healed anything. Talking with Luke’s wonderful family the other day had inspired her to learn more about his past. “Where did you go, exactly, when you left home? You were only an eighteen-year-old kid.”

“I rented an efficiency apartment. It was near the industrial part of Atlanta where there were several body shops.”

“With what money did you rent an apartment at that age?”

“When I was sixteen, I sold the car my dad and I had fixed up for a profit. I used that money to buy another car, which I fixed up and sold for a profit. By the time I turned eighteen, I’d sold four cars. I used that money to rent my apartment and pay for food until I got a job and started earning a paycheck.”

“Who hired you?”

“A guy named Ronaldo who owned a body shop. He paid me minimum wage, but he taught me a lot.”

“His business was legal?”

“Yeah. But one of their customers wasn’t so legal. He was a kid around my age who kept bringing in the most rare and expensive cars I’ve ever seen or worked on.”

Finley plucked a pink gem from his pan and put it on the grooved lip of the chute. “Did anyone ask this kid where he was coming by all of these rare and expensive cars?”

“Ronaldo had a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy. I should’ve stuck to that. The kid’s name was Kyle, and we became friends. His situation was like mine. He was into cars. He’d also left home early.”

“Why had he left home early?”

“Abusive father. Eventually, Kyle’s boss invited me to come and work for him.”

“At the chop shop?”

He nodded.

“And you said yes because?”

“The pay was ridiculously good, and I got to work with incredible cars.”

“Stolen cars.”