We drive in silence, the rhythmic crunch of tyres over the salted asphalt filling the thick tension around us. Finally, we slow. The firefighter steers the vehicle carefully between two wrought iron gates, passing beneath a sign engraved into the metal that announces ‘Applegate Cemetery’.
Ryker follows the tree lined road to a small parking lot. A few scattered cars are already tucked into the stalls, possibly visitors tending to loved ones or maybe groundskeepers at work, I don’t know.
Slowing to a halt, Ryker cuts the engine. His hands tighten around the steering wheel a fraction as he exhales a slow, jagged breath.
‘Hey’ I murmur. I reach out, prying one of his hands from the wheel and cradle it between my own in my lap. ‘If it’s too much, it’s okay.’
Ryker’s steel grey gaze flits t
