The Crash

Harper grabbed her keys. She didn't wait for her ankle to stop throbbing. She limped to the door, grabbed her coat, and ran to her old Chevy pickup parked in the driveway.

She cranked the engine. It sputtered, then roared to life.

She saw Silas’s taillights disappearing down the ridge road toward the Mountain Pass.

"Oh no you don't," Harper gritted out.

She slammed the truck into gear and peeled out.

The roads were plowed but icy. The snowbanks were six feet high on either side.

She chased him. She pushed the old truck harder than she should have.

"Silas!" she screamed, flashing her high beams.

Ahead, Silas saw the lights in his rearview mirror. He recognized the grill of her truck.

"Go back, Harper," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel. "Let me go."

They hit the winding section of the pass. The drop-off was steep, guarded only by a flimsy metal rail.

Harper sped up, trying to pull alongside him to force him to stop.

She hit a patch of black ice.

The steering wheel jerked in her hands. The back end of the truck fishtailed.

Harper overcorrected.

The truck spun. It slammed sideways into the guardrail.

*CRUNCH.*

The sound of metal screaming against metal echoed through the canyon. The truck tipped, teetering over the edge of the precipice.

Silas saw it happen in slow motion.

He slammed on his brakes, his truck skidding to a halt.

"Harper!"

He leaped out of his truck. He ran. He ran faster than he had ever run in combat.

Harper’s truck was hanging precariously over the edge, rocking with the wind. The driver's side window was shattered. Harper was slumped over the wheel, blood trickling from her forehead.

"Harper!" Silas scrambled onto the hood of her truck, his weight causing it to groan and shift.

He ripped the door open.

"Silas?" she mumbled, dazed.

"I've got you," he choked out. "I've got you, baby. Give me your hand."

He unbuckled her. He dragged her out of the cab just as the guardrail groaned.

He pulled her onto the solid pavement of the road.

A second later, the guardrail snapped. Harper’s truck tilted and slid backward, tumbling down the cliffside into the ravine below.

Silas held her against the asphalt, shielding her body with his, breathing hard.

He looked at the empty space where her truck had been.

He looked down at her face. She was alive.

The wall he had built—the discipline, the self-loathing, the distance—shattered completely.

\---

**Epilogue**

The hospital room in Denver was quiet.

Harper lay in the bed, a bandage on her head and her ankle elevated again.

Silas sat in the chair next to the bed. He hadn't moved in six hours. He was holding her hand.

Harper opened her eyes.

"You wrecked my truck," she croaked.

Silas let out a wet laugh. He brought her hand to his lips. "I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you a tank."

"You were leaving," Harper accused, though her voice lacked heat.

"I was," Silas admitted. "I was running away."

"Are you still running?"

Silas shook his head. "I saw you go over that rail, Harper. And I realized... the only thing more dangerous to you than me, is me not being there."

He leaned forward, his forehead resting on their joined hands.

"I'm old, Harper. I'm broken. But if you want the ghost... you've got him. I'm not going anywhere."

Harper pulled her hand free. She reached out and cupped his scarred face.

"I don't want a ghost," she said firmly. "I want the mechanic who fixed my roof. I want the soldier who stood up to Miller. I want the man who kissed me by the fire."

Silas closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "You got him."

\---

**Six Months Later**

The sign above the garage had been repainted. *Doyle & Vance Auto Repair.*

Inside, classic rock was blaring.

Harper was under the hood of a Mustang. Silas was at the front desk, arguing with a parts supplier on the phone while helping Chloe with a trigonometry problem.

"No, I need the OEM part," Silas said sternly. He winked at Chloe, who giggled. "Yes, I'll hold."

Harper wiped her hands on a rag and walked over. She leaned against the counter, admiring the way he commanded the room.

Silas hung up the phone. He looked at her. The shadows were still there in his eyes—they always would be—but they weren't lonely anymore.

"Truck's ready," Harper said.

"Good," Silas said. He reached over the counter and pulled her in for a kiss, right in front of the customers and her sister.

"Gross," Chloe muttered, but she was smiling.

"Get back to work, Marine," Harper grinned against his lips.

"Yes, ma'am," Silas replied.

And for the first time in a long time, the winter in Silver Peak felt warm.