Chapter 36

• The fields were quiet at night — that soft hush only country folks knew, the one that hummed low in the weeds and sang through the hush of crickets when the heat broke and the air turned cool enough to breathe easy.
• Beau parked the old truck out past the last fence line, tires crunchin’ gravel until he pulled up near the hay bales stacked high for next week’s load. He killed the engine, let the hush take over — no music, no porch light, just them and the soft creak of the tailgate when he dropped it down.
• Sadie climbed up first — bare legs swingin’ over the edge, skirt ridin’ high where his rough palm helped her up like she weighed nothin’. She giggled when he gave her that soft push to settle her back in the bed — old blanket spread under her hips, head tucked against the tool box where the stars broke wide and clean overhead.