Andra pulled over, her hands shaking. She deliberately relaxed her muscles, fighting the edge of panic chilling her skin. It had happened twice on the drive down. In a dingy restaurant that smelled of spilled beer, and once when she’d glimpsed a man in a gas station with a profile just like Gavin’s. But each time she’d fought through it and kept herself from totally losing control. The trip was her choice. Somehow, knowing that she was taking charge helped battle the attacks every time they threatened to take over.

She took a long, slow breath and looked around. The damage from the flood was bad, but it was over a decade old. That crisis was long past. Still, as distracted as she was by wreckage and the idea of seeing LJ again, she’d be lucky if she didn’t run over somebody’s dog by accident. The neighborhood wasn’t that big. She could walk to LJ’s and get her truck after she found her destination.

Besides, there was plenty of parking here. There were hardly any houses, and even fewer cars. She hadn’t seen a single bus stop, so no wonder LJ was so insistent that he bring his truck. She hopped out and checked the map on her phone for where to go. A couple of boys rode by on bikes. One offered a shy smile, and the other quickly glanced away. She returned the smile, only then realizing she hadn’t seen another white person since she’d crossed the bridge.

It wasn’t something she normally thought about, the race of the people around her. Then again, Montana wasn’t the most diverse place: other than a handful of Latinos, there weren’t many other ethnicities to speak of. Suddenly, she felt clumsy, conspicuous, as if she were being tested.

She ran her hands down her arms, cupping her palms over the bare skin. This morning when she woke up, she’d put on a sleeveless eyelet-lace blouse with a high mandarin collar and delicate, feminine edging. Beneath her jeans, sweat was already starting to collect behind her knees, but at least that was a little less skin showing to mark her as a visitor in this place. She ran her thumb over the bend of her elbow and then started down the street with a long, determined stride.

This was LJ’s home. However foreign it felt, she would be okay here.

Music played from nearby, something jazzy and full of brass, but without a drum. A whiff of smoky mesquite wood and barbecued meat drifted out of a grill set beside someone’s porch steps. She inhaled, her eyelids drooping, but then the ground dropped out from underneath her.