Special Agents Noah and Joe, Katie’s husband, had served side by side in ISB—the Investigative Services Branch of the U.S. Department of the Interior’s National Park Service, based in Yosemite, three hours south of here. The pair had been hunting down a string of vehicle break-ins and robberies, which finally escalated into a brutal high-speed pursuit. A suspect in the fleeing car opened fire on them, slicing through the patrol car’s windshield, blowing two tires, and slamming the vehicle violently off the road. A helicopter ferried Joe by air to a hospital in the Tahoe area, where he’d been holed up in the ICU for a full week after the crash. Noah was discharged, but the medical team hadn’t signed off on his return to duty—he was still recovering from multiple injuries, including an injured right leg. That leg wound was a relapse of an old injury: years ago, Olive had accidentally run him over with her car. She’d stashed that memory in a mental folder titled "Don’t Think About This Right Now." “How’s Joe doing?” “He’s still in a coma,” Katie said flatly. “Short answer: he’s unresponsive, stuck in an unconscious state because of damage to the brain’s ascending reticular activating system—ARAS, the part that controls wakefulness.” “He’ll make it,” Olive whispered softly. “He better. If he doesn’t wake up, I’m going straight into that coma and yank him out myself.” “I’ll help you.” “Misfits stick together.” Olive let out a soft huff of laughter, repeating the line. “Misfits stick together.” That had been their motto since she moved in with her grandma at 14, right next door to the Turners. Before that, she’d been homeschooled on a remote off-grid farm hours north of Lake Tahoe, hidden in a wilderness almost no one dared step into. She could build a raging fire in three minutes flat, but had zero clue how to talk to kids her age. Katie was just as socially awkward, making them easy targets for school bullies. As for Noah—he wasn’t an outcast or troublemaker at all—he’d reluctantly become their unofficial protector back then. “You almost here?” Katie asked. Olive glanced at the lake on her right. Its deep blue waters were so big they could swallow the entire Empire State Building. Tall pine forests climbed the mountain slopes, their treetops almost touching the thin, fluffy white clouds floating above. Just looking at the landscape calmed her racing heart. “I’m passing your library building now.” “The library? Great! You’ll be here in exactly ten and a half minutes. Don’t get lost.” Olive laughed. “It hasn’t been that long, I never get lost.” “That’s a lie! Remember your driver’s test? The DMV guy told you to turn right, but you always mix up left and right, so you swerved left instead—” “I’ve got left and right down now,” Olive joked, trying to cut the story short. But her hope was slim—Katie never let a side tangent die once she started talking. “You ended up going the wrong way on a one-way street and totally panicked. You jerked the wheel to turn right, but it wasn’t a road—just a hiking trail with No Vehicle Access signs everywhere. You failed the test right away—” “I remember every single detail.” “The examiner ended up with severe chest pains and got rushed to the hospital by ambulance—only for doctors to find it was just indigestion. He’d stuffed four hot dogs from that lakefront food shack, the one that got shut down after poisoning dozens of visitors. Remember that part?” “Vaguely,” Olive said flatly. “You made the local paper’s front page. Almost no one does that, but you did it again a few years later when—” “Let me stop you there, okay? I haven’t forgotten any of my embarrassing mistakes. I’ll see you in a couple minutes—” Her words cut off when a man stepped off the sidewalk without looking for cars. She slammed on the brakes hard, her heart jumping into panic as the rented Mini Cooper skidded to a stop just feet away from him. When he turned to face her, Olive gasped in total shock. “What’s happening?” Katie’s voice crackled through the Bluetooth. Olive’s car was crooked halfway into the crosswalk, the sharp smell of burnt rubber filling her nose. The stranger she almost hit pulled out one earbud, raised a hand to block the sun, clearly trying to see her face through the tiny rental car’s windshield. A shaky breath of relief escaped her. It was Noah Turner. He mouthed a quick sorry before walking on, his gait uneven as he clearly favored his injured right leg. “He mouths an apology?” Olive muttered to herself. “I almost had a heart attack, and all he gives me is a silent sorry—” “Who are you talking to?” “I almost ran over your brother. Again.” “He’s not gonna be happy to hear that.” Olive fought the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel. “I’m pretty sure he couldn’t recognize me through the glass, and I have no plans to tell him anything. You can’t mention this either.” “No problem,” Katie said casually. “Around here, you’re known as The One Who Shall Not Be Named.” “Excuse me?” “Shoot,” Katie muttered, then made a sound like she smacked her own forehead. “Don’t tell Olive I called her that nickname.” “Are you kidding? That’s what they call me?” “Don’t take it personal,” Katie rushed to calm her. “He’s got a whole list of off-limits topics Mom and I can’t bring up. One category is women and marriage—all women, not just you.” Olive let out a choked laugh. “Wow, that’s harsh.” “We’re also not allowed to ask when he’ll settle down and start a family. Honestly, he should’ve added matchmaking to the rulebook. Mom keeps trying to set him up with every single single woman she meets.” For the first time all day, a real smile tugged at Olive’s lips. She’d spent the whole drive dreading running into Noah, but it sounded like he was busy dodging blind dates.
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