16
That evening, Carly didn’t see Steve at the drone site or the rigged-up chow line at midfield along the Garden Valley runway. She told herself she wasn’t searching for him. The setting sun roared down the valley and cast her shadow all the way back to where the helicopters perched at the far east end of the airport.
She’d probably be better off if she didn’t find him. If she took her sleeping bag and curled up somewhere on her own, she’d surely be better off. She’d go for a walk along the river before crashing out.
Sure, Thomas. Pretend you aren’t going where you’re going.
I’m taking these blankets rather than my cozy, one-person sleeping bag in case I feel like sleeping outdoors again.
Uh-huh. No, honest.
Right, Thomas. The woman in the mirror had never been forgiving, regardless
