“He gave me a nod,” I said.

“That means he knows exactly where we stand.

I’m not going to pretend this is fine just to make Sunday dinners comfortable.”

Luke didn’t answer.

He just watched the center line glowing yellow in our headlights.

The glass serving plate sat washed and wrapped in a thin towel on the back seat.

I turned my head and looked out the passenger window.

The north wind was already rattling the bare cottonwoods along the highway.