Pitch Black by Susan Crandall

had a deer carcass strapped to its hood. She’d come around the corner too fast and there it was, a deer, stretched on its side, heading right for her windshield.
    The old guy driving the truck had laid on the horn, then followed up by flipping her off as he passed her. Sitting stock-still in the road, she’d looked in her rearview. The only thing that jumped out at her was a huge “Jesus is Lord” sticker on the back bumper—not a rare thing in these parts. Consequently, she’d never figured out who the old codger was. Too bad, because it hadn’t been deer season. She could have paid him back for his kind gesture with a call to the Department of Natural Resources.
    She threaded the eye of the needle beneath the railroad, tense as ever. Obviously today the peaceful scenery wasn’t doing the trick to unwind her.
    Maybe deep breathing . . .
    When she rounded that last curve, she got the emotional boost she’d been looking for—from a most unexpected source. Gabe’s SUV was parked in front of her house. He got out, smiled, and waved as she pulled into the drive. She shivered with a spark of sheer happiness.
    Ethan didn’t stir when she shut off the engine. She got out of the car, closing the door softly.
    Gabe walked up the driveway in that unhurried Southern gait of his. All of her nerve endings readily snapped to attention.
    He gave her a crooked grin as he said, “Evenin’, Maddie.”
    The warm roughness of his voice slid over each and every one of those eager nerve endings, soothing and exciting them simultaneously.
    “Evenin’, Sheriff.” Her imitation of a Southern drawl was both pathetic and comical.
    He was kind and didn’t laugh, but he did give her a smile that had probably scored him more points with women than he ever imagined. “Left the sheriff back at the office.” He pulled out a large brown paper bag from where it was tucked behind his back. “Gabe the Gourmet brought dinner.”
    “Mmmm, from the grease spots on that bag, I’d say I’m gonna like what’s in there.”
    “Baby-backs, bar-b-que beans, slaw, and home fries.”
    “Hope you brought plenty. Ethan can eat two racks all by himself.”
    “Well, so can I.” He cocked his head. “Maybe you’ll have to eat peanut butter.”
    “Ha!” She snatched the bag out of his hand. “We’ll see about that.” She went around to the passenger door and tapped on the window.
    Ethan lifted his head and blinked, as if he was reacquainting himself with his bearings.
    She opened the door and waved the bag under his nose. “Gabe brought ribs, the universal language of all American males.”
    Ethan’s nostrils flared as he took in the smoky aroma. “I’m starved.”
    Looking at Gabe, she said, “Uh-oh. Looks like maybe we’ll both be eating peanut butter.”
    Once inside, they sat down around the kitchen table with the food and a large stack of napkins. Ethan and Gabe started talking UT football. Although Ethan’s eyes didn’t shine with their usual light, his spirits seemed to be lifting.
    As they talked, the guys piled up mountains of stripped bones at a rate that would rival those competitive eating contest guys on ESPN.
    Hope rose in her chest. This could be a turning point for Ethan. Life would never be exactly the same after what he’d been through on that mountain, but perhaps it was sliding back toward normal—or at least normal-ish.
    She smiled, feeling warm and at peace as she watched the two guys talk. Licking her fingers, she continued to eat Gabe the Gourmet’s unhealthful, artery-clogging, fat food. She decided she’d wait until later to feel guilty about it.
    GABE WATCHED RELIEF GROW IN MADDIE’S eyes as Ethan ate like the teenager he was and got swept up in the subject of football, which had just switched from the fall schedule for UT to the prospects for the local high school team, the Buckeye Rebels.
    “Have you considered playing?” Gabe asked. The kid certainly had the build.
    Ethan shrugged. “It’s way too