The Dodge Ram rumbled steady down the highway, the trailer swaying softly behind them like a heartbeat in rhythm with the road. Colt’s hands rested loose on the wheel, his eyes scanning the endless stretch of asphalt, while beside him she sat cross-legged, laptop balanced on her thighs, the glow of the screen reflecting on her face. She always looked at home in front of a puzzle, piecing information together the way others solved crosswords, but there was something tender about how she did it—methodical, calm, with that quiet fire in her eyes that he’d noticed the very first time they worked together.

Back then, it was supposed to be temporary. His buddy needed a break and vouched for her, saying she might be even better. Colt had doubted that. But after a few days of watching her mind work, he knew it wasn’t an exaggeration. She wasn’t just good—she was brilliant. Still, what caught him wasn’t only her mind. It was the way she laughed softly when the pieces clicked, or the way she refused to let a single loose end slip by. That laugh had stayed in his head long after they logged off their first job together, and soon enough, they couldn’t just stay behind screens anymore.

“Got something?” he asked, breaking the hum of the truck. His voice was deep, carrying that calm steadiness she’d grown to crave.

She adjusted her glasses and leaned back, stretching her legs before typing again. “Not yet. Whoever this guy is, he’s careful. Too careful. But nobody’s perfect.” Her lips curved into that small smile he knew so well, the one that meant she was circling closer.

Colt chuckled. “That’s what scares me. You sound like you’re hunting.”

“Maybe I am,” she teased, eyes flicking to him. “Only this time, it’s information instead of a deer.”

The radio murmured low country in the background, mixing with the wind that slipped in through Colt’s cracked window. The air smelled like gasoline and faint leather, the kind of scent she’d grown used to. At first, she thought she’d miss her apartment, the comfort of her own space. But somewhere along the way, the trailer had become home. Home wasn’t walls and furniture anymore. It was this—Colt’s jacket draped on the seat, the sound of tires against pavement, their mugs clinking together each morning in the trailer’s tiny kitchen.

“You ever think about how strange this is?” she asked suddenly, shutting her laptop halfway. “Me, leaving everything behind. Living on the road with you. Most people would think it’s insane.”

Colt kept his eyes on the road, but his lips curved. “Most people don’t know you.”

She tilted her head, waiting.

“You don’t belong behind a desk,” he said finally. “You belong where things happen. Where the air keeps changing and the ground isn’t steady. That’s what makes you alive. And… I think that’s what makes me alive too.”

Her heart tightened at that, a warmth spreading in her chest. She reached over, brushing her fingers against his arm. He glanced at her quickly, just long enough for her to see the softness in his eyes before turning back to the road.

“Besides,” Colt added, his tone lighter, “you make a mean cup of coffee in that trailer. Wouldn’t survive without it.”

She laughed, the sound filling the truck and making him grin. It was easy, this life with him. Even the long drives felt like something to savor, every mile pulling them deeper into each other’s world.

The sky stretched wide above them, bruised with the early shades of evening. Twelve hours on the road sounded heavy, but with him, it felt like nothing. She closed her laptop, slid closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Wake me when we’re close?” she murmured, eyelids already heavy.

“Always,” he whispered, the word carrying more than just promise about the trip.

And as the Dodge pushed on through the fading light, the world outside blurred, but inside the cab, it felt like the only thing real was the quiet pulse of love, steady as the road beneath them.