S I R E N / 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓼 .

most  of  the  time  these  long  stints  on  the  road  really  did  him  in.  silas  could  handle  the  wear  and  tear,  charm  the  meets  and  greets,  but  the  loneliness  of  being  away  from  family  and  friends  would  be  doing  him  in  by  the  end  of  a  week  gone.

this  time,  thanks  to  a  nightly  stop  at  a  diner,  the  weight  of  absence  felt  a  little  less.  maybe  it  had  everything  to  do  with  the  blonde  waitress  with  the  soft,  inviting  voice,  and  nothing  to  do  with  the  food.

jeans,  boots,  a  shirt,  and  a  hoodie  all  sat  under  the  kutte  that  announced  to  anyone  that  glanced  at  him  who  he  was  and  where  he  was  from.  but  unlike  the  blonde  with  a  particular  set  of  curves,  everyone  around  these  parts  had  gotten  used  to  him  and  his  brotherhood,  the  varying  passing  throughs  over  the  course  of  time.

sasha.  it  was  caught  on  a  glance  at  her  name  badge  one  of  the  times  earlier  in  the  week  she'd  served  him.  she  was  new,  stood  out  from  the  permanent  fixtures  around  these  parts,  there  was  something  different  about  her.

"maybe  i  like  the  ambiance,"  he  said  back,  voice  deep  and  easy,  as  he  leaned  back  against  the  booth.  "the  scenery,  the  view  ...  is  kind  of  unbeatable,  wouldn't  you  say?"  a  smirk  tugged  at  one  corner  of  his  mouth,  though  there  was  nothing  sly  or  slick  in  his  tone  or  mannerisms.  just  the  charm  of  a  man  most  would  guess  was  from  the  south.

"the  pies?"  the  blond  outlaw's  head  lolled  somewhat  to  the  side,  ocean  eyes  on  her  face  not  her  body.  "they're  not  that  good  here.  unless,"  silas'  brow  lifted  slightly,  "you  know  of  one  i've  been  missing  out  on  and  haven't  tried  yet  ..."

for  a  moment  he  glanced  away  from  her.  the  biker  checked  the  business  of  the  establishment  and  where  the  other  waitstaff  was.  then  when  his  eyes  returned  to  capture  hers,  the  outlaw  smiled  softly.  "you  got  a  break  coming  up?  wanna  join  me?  could  use  the  company."

She blinked up at him, lashes fluttering before her lips curved in a crooked, emboldened smile. “Ambiance, huh?” she echoed, leaning one elbow on the table as she shifted her weight just enough to make the lines of her body subtly more noticeable. Not obvious ... just a gentle little sway, a slow inhale that made her chest lift. “Funny, I didn’t think this place had much of a view worth coming back for.”

But when she realized his eyes weren’t on her body ... they were on her face ... that alone made her pulse thrum.

When he mentioned the pies, she laughed. A soft, tipsy sound. “Oh, the pies are terrible,” she admitted, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “But there’s a few things on the menu worth trying if you know who to ask.” A wink, quick and playful. Totally and completely out of Sasha's typical element but goddamn, she was trying hard here.

His glance around the diner didn’t go unnoticed. Sasha followed it briefly, taking in the noise of Friday night and the fact that no one here knew who she really was or what she carried. Tonight, she could choose to be someone lighter.

Her eyes lifted back to his when he looked at her again, the offer settling between them like a dare.

“A break,” she murmured, sliding off the stool with a small sway of her hips. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ve got one due.” She stepped closer, close enough that she could sink down into the booth opposite of the biker. “Just a whopping fifteen minutes, though,” or, if she was really lucky, they'd let her off early with the terms being a cute mysterious guy. “Can't waste it.”

he  wasn't  a  big  fan  of  the  ocean.  the  sea  was  dark,  twisted,  tormented,  there  was  something  otherworldly  about  it  that  unsettled  the  bleached  blond  that  cheated  death  on  a  regular  basis.  dirt,  trees,  open  spaces,  the  mountains  were  where  max  sheppard  thrived  but  that  didn't  seem  to  matter  when  he  was  tasked  with  a  surveillance  type  of  mission.

some  suspicion  had  arisen  on  the  aces  side  when  it  came  to  shipments  coming  in  and  out  of  the  docks,  so  roman,  his  club  president,  had  suggested  doing  some  recognizance.

after  having  walked  the  seaside  and  the  docks,  poking  in  and  out  of  places,  and  engaging  in  some  conversation  with  a  few  fisherman,  max  wound  up  posting  up  at  a  booth  with  a  view  inside  the  anchor  with  a  beer  and  their  famous  clam  chowder  in  front  of  him.

it  wasn't  much  longer,  his  beer  about  half  down,  when  the  dancer  had  made  her  way  into  the  establishment.  the  motocross  champion  hadn't  looked  at  first  but  that  familiar  sound  of  her  voice  had  drawn  his  attention.  when  his  blue  eyes  landed  on  carmen  he  didn't  shy  or  turn  away,  max  never  cared  if  someone  caught  him  up,  but  when  their  gazes  locked  there  was  a  tick  of  his  head  inviting  her  over.

"long  way  out  for  you,"  he'd  said  at  the  sultry  woman's  arrival,  then  jutted  his  chin  once  for  her  to  take  the  side  opposite  him.  "want  a  beer?  soup's  good  ..."

they'd  never  spoken  much  at  all,  the  outlaw  was  the  quiet  type,  a  man  of  few  words,  and  he  didn't  really  venture  inside  the  rusty  spur  much.  but  they  each  knew  whom  each  other  was.  it'd  be  silly  to  act  like  strangers.  with  sitting  with  him  it'd  look  a  little  better  than  his  venture  about  the  coastal  town.

mostly  he'd  only  seen  carmen  under  nightclub  lighting,  plus  a  few  rare  times  when  she'd  come  to  club  events  at  the  clubhouse,  but  seeing  her  up  close  and  natural  max  found  his  eyes  kept  drawing  to  her.

beautiful.

"don't  tell  me  you're  seein'  a  sailor  or  boat  guy,"  he  lightly  teased,  a  gesture  of  his  head  canting  toward  the  window  where  beyond  it  a  moody  view  of  the  sea  traveled  off  into  the  dark  clouded  horizon.

Her boots clicked soft against the old wooden floors as she slid into the seat across from him. Small frame, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Carmen had learned a long time ago never to look small even when she was. She smelled faintly of coconut and cigarette smoke, her slender fingers curling around the edge of the booth as she fixed Max with a dry look.

“Long way out for me?” she echoed, one brow arching. “I could say the same for you, guapo. Didn’t take you for a seaside man.” The tease was light, but her tone held that husky blunt edge she was known for. Her eyes dropped to his bowl. “Not gonna lie. A beer sounds better than soup, but gracias. I'll give it a go.”

She flagged a server with a flick of her fingers, ordered herself a light beer, then leaned back in her seat. Max’s eyes weren’t subtle—never had been—but his quiet didn’t bother her. Her husband had been the same kind of quiet. Same kind of dangerous. Same kind of loyal.

She softened just a fraction, enough that her voice wasn’t all armor. “You working?” she asked, gaze sliding to the window, to the waves churning under the heavy sky. “You only come this far out when Roman sends you sniffing around something.”

His joke tugged her back, and she made a low sound in her throat—half-snort, half-laugh. “A sailor?” Carmen tilted her head, curls shifting, lips curving with dry amusement. “Please. I don’t have the patience for a man who’s gone three months at a time.” Her fingers drummed once on the table. Irony wasn't lost on her when her own 'outlaw' was sentenced to far more time than a few months. “What if I was though? You going to rat me out? A girl's just looking for a little fun around here, handsome.”

had  it  all  looked  convincing  enough  to  the  neighbors,  especially  a  particular  pair  across  the  street,  when  the  moving  truck  had  appeared  the  week  before  and  loaded  the  house  she'd  just  stepped  into  with  a  little  bit  of  everything  that  would  make  the  lie  of  it  believable.

that  a  loving  couple,  years  into  a  steady  relationship,  were  now  shaking  up?

the  carryon  sized  roller  suitcase  glided  to  a  stop  next  to  the  staircase  and  the  brunette  had  mindlessly  began  with  the  buttons  of  her  jacket.  long,  dark  hair  flicked  over  her  shoulder  as  dark  eyes  glanced  back  to  the  voice  that  seemed  to  reverberate  through  her  sounded  behind  as  the  deputy  made  his  way  into  the  house  behind  her.

when  she'd  turned  to  fully  view  her  partner,  lower  half  somewhat  snug  in  the  pair  of  wranglers  he'd  strapped  himself  in,  the  deputy  was  fixing  his  ball  cap.  playing  hide  and  seek  with  that  luscious  head  of  long  hair  underneath.

"you  were  engaged  before,  right?"  back  when  she  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  law,  she  thought  she  remembered  that  little  detail.  they'd  been  rather  impersonal  in  the  months  they'd  crossed  paths  as  law  enforcement  officials,  but  she'd  still  been  a  woman.  with  eyes.  and  a  lonely  heart,  coupled  with  lots  of  frustration  she  had  no  outlet  to  release  it  with.  "maybe  make  it  as  convincing  as  when  you'd  moved  in  together."

the  comments  hadn't  been  to  sting.  nicola  had  taken  a  step  and  shifted  closer  to  everett  as  he  closed  more  distance  with  her.  this  was  an  awkward  situation  so  the  agent  had  gone  for  the  first  comparable.  of  course  the  brunette  would've  loved  to  get  carnal  with  the  deputy  before  but  now  there  was  something  scripted  about  it  and  that  threw  everything  off.

without  turning  her  head  and  as  her  feet  inched  her  closer  to  her  fake  boyfriend?  fiancé?  nicola's  eyes  cut  toward  the  window.  the  blinds  were  wide  open  and  they  were  in  full  view.  the  agent's  jacket  was  off  and  draped  over  the  banister  behind  her  leaving  the  brunette  in  a  fitted  black  top  and  jeans.

the  scent  of  him,  the  deep  rasp  of  his  voice,  and  the  exhilaration  of  their  need  to  put  on  some  sort  of  show  made  something  flutter  low  in  her  belly.  nicola's  hand  reached  out  and  gripped  everett's  shirt,  pulling  him  to  her  until  their  bodies  collided.

"i  guess  you  better  kiss  me  like  you're  about  to  christen  this  whole  house  with  me  ..."

He didn’t know whether it was the hand clutching his shirt or the way her breath brushed his jaw but something in him went tight, coiled like a wire pulled too far. Nicola wasn’t just close; she was pressed to him now, hips brushing his belt buckle, her dark hair grazing his forearm where he’d lifted a hand in reflex.

He caught her glance toward the window a beat before she yanked him the final inch. His eyes followed, narrowing just slightly when he saw the faint, nosey outline across the street—someone leaning too long by their curtains, pretending not to watch. A reminder of exactly why they were here. Why they had to sell this. Why he had to put his mouth on her when he’d been trying not to.

Everett swallowed once, slow, the movement thick in his throat. “Yeah,” he answered her earlier question, voice rough as gravel. It was still a sore subject, constantly festering beneath the surface, entirely undealt with. “I was engaged.” His thumb brushed along the hinge of her jaw as he cupped her cheek, the calloused pad dragging gently over her skin. “And you were married.” Almost like they should know what they were doing and how to do it despite being near strangers. Strangers with an underlying tension ready to claw it's way to the surface.

Her breath hitched. Or maybe that was his.

Her challenge lingered in the air—kiss me like you’re about to christen the place.

Everett huffed a breath through his nose, almost a laugh, almost a warning. “Darlin’, you say that, I’ll make it real hard to tell what’s pretend.”

He wanted her to feel it. The hunger, the weeks of biting his tongue, the way she got under his skin worse than any suspect ever had. It could very well just be the hell he endured for months with so much pent up everything with no outlet to place it. He didn't quite know. Nicola’s fist tightened in his shirt, pulling him flush, her curves molding against the firm line of his body. The heat of her seeped through his fitted tee, crawling straight into his bloodstream. He dipped his head, letting his forehead rest against hers, his breath fanning her lips.

somehow,  despite  the  years  of  knowing  him,  from  working  the  bar  to  the  time  when  life  had  drawn  her  even  closer  by  being  a  biker's  girl,  the  shine  and  allure  of  dean  kane  hadn't  dissipated.

of  course  when  she'd  been  with  cruz  she  hadn't  looked  outward,  but  in  the  two  years  long  absence  now  her  attention  had  drifted  back  the  big  and  wild  outlaw.  everything  about  him  had  always  screamed  rebellion  ⸻  mostly  because  of  that  devil  may  care  attitude,  but  it  also  had  something  to  do  with  that  long  hair  and  swagger.

the  thing  she'd  longed  for  most  was  a  break  from  her  life,  from  the  normalcy  and  mundaneness  of  it.  not  that  her  life  was  exactly  typical  given  her  situation,  it  was  just  all  so  routine  now  ...  without  any  straying  to  make  her  feel  alive  or  any  sort  of  excitement  anymore.

not  since,  well,  you  know.

whatever  he  made  her  feel  when  he  was  in  the  vicinity  teenie  was  able  to  manage,  she  didn't  even  steal  glances  anymore  the  way  she'd  used  to  when  she  was  years  younger.  it  was  something  when  dean  kane  looked  at  her  though,  because  he  was  someone  that  had  actually  given  her  the  time  of  day  but  also  eyed  her  like  he  wanted  a  piece  of  her.

unabashedly  so,  at  that,  about  it,  too.

the  hand  landing  on  the  counter  beside  her  startled  her  and  teenie  jumped  a  little  and  then  looked  up  at  dean  with  wide  eyes.  she  laughed  it  off  a  second  later,  hand  to  chest,  and  turned  to  serve  him  her  full  attention.

"you  know  it  doesn't  work  like  that,  right?"  brow  cocked,  smirk  shaping  her  full  lips,  "last  i  checked  you  don't  own  this  bar."

a  hip  leaned  against  the  counter  and  her  hand  rested  on  the  bar  top  near  his  before  she  joked,  "if  you  want  me  you  just  might  have  to  kidnap  me."

He didn’t bother answering her with anything clever. Didn’t need to. His hand slid off the bar and he stepped in close, the scent of whiskey and road dust rolling with him, that wild curtain of hair falling into his eyes as he dipped his head just enough to catch her gaze.

“Kidnap you?” he repeated, voice low, amused, dangerous in the way only the fun kind of danger ever was. He was already gearing up to put a test to the theory that she wasn't kidding. Large, broad body would move from the outskirts of the bar, leaning on over. “Teenie, you really shouldn’t say shit you don’t mean.”

And before she could blink twice, his arm hooked around her waist — solid, massive, a single effortless sweep that lifted her right off her feet. She may have let out a squeak, a laugh, something breathless that only spurred him on. Dean shouldered the bar door open with a boot, earning hoots and catcalls from the Aces as they saw exactly what he was doing.

Dean didn’t even glance back. Teenie’s smaller frame fit against his like she’d been made to fit right there, her hands gripping his shoulders out of instinct, her hair brushing his jaw as he carried her straight out into the cool night.

“Too late to change your mind now,” he drawled, tightening his hold just a touch as he stepped off the ledge where the bar was. Dean wasn't shy when handling the small willowy figure. He plucked her up, hoisted her on over, large hands clasped around the back of her leg as she laid up, dangled. “You said kidnap — I’m just bein’ a gentleman and obligin’.”

He shot her a wicked half‑smile, the kind that had gotten him in trouble before. “Now tell me where you want your ransom paid, babe, before I get too far ahead of myself.”

the  tv  was  on  with  the  background  noise  of  sneakers  squeaking  on  a  shiny  surface,  riley  had  no  idea  what  the  basketball  score  was,  the  vice  detective  was  laid  back  into  the  cushions  of  his  sofa  with  an  open  file  spread  over  his  legs.  an  empty  bottle  of  something  cheap  he'd  picked  up  at  the  liquor  store  on  his  way  home  earlier  sat  on  the  end  table.

when  the  door  sounded  with  company  on  his  step  his  hardened  blue  eyes  only  glanced  in  that  direction.  suspicion  and  something  immovable  had  him  stare,  maybe  with  some  sliver  of  hope  that  whomever  it  was  awaiting  his  answer  would  go  away.  it  was  late  for  a  solicitor,  so  it  was  the  probability  it  was  one  of  his  neighbors  in  need  of  something  that  had  riley  groan  as  he  pulled  himself  from  the  couch.

"the  badge  makes  me  less  human?"  the  question  came  without  an  ounce  of  amusement  as  his  gaze  moved  up  and  down  the  blonde  dancer.  it'd  been  a  mistake  letting  her  know  where  he  lived.

"it's  cute  that  curiosity  killed  the  cat  and  you  just  had  to  come  over  here  and  find  out  for  yourself,"  he  breathed  a  sigh  out  through  his  nose  and  his  head  slightly  shook  with  disappointment,  "you're  a  little  early  ...  it's  not  quite  my  bedtime  yet."

ocean  eyes  took  in  the  six  pack  she'd  brought  as  a  gift  then  dipped  to  the  skirt  that  bared  her  tanned  legs.  his  gaze  crawled  up  her  curves  and  her  casualness  had  him  intrigued.  "as  opposed  to  me  going  to  the  spur  where  you  work  ...  ?"  where  there  was  a  full  bar  he  could  grab  a  drink  from,  or  the  fridge  he'd  just  restocked.

"a  bribe?"  brow  raised,  curiosity  piqued,  riley  thought  it  over.  "you  need  much  better  beer  to  get  anywhere  with  that.  is  the  beer  the  bribe  or  just  to  get  you  in  the  door?"  as  he  asked  though  he  stepped  back  and  let  the  blonde  in.

it  was  cold  out.  that's  what  he'd  told  himself  was  the  reason  for  letting  the  dancer  into  his  personal  space.  "you're  not  staying  long  so  don't  make  yourself  at  home,"  he  said  after  he  shut  the  door  and  made  his  way  to  the  living  room  so  he  could  mute  the  tv.

"if  anything  the  clock's  ticking  so  ...  get  to  what  you're  here  for."

“Wow,” she exhaled, stepping past him only after he moved aside, her white boots soft against the floor. “You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.” Her voice carried its usual playful cadence, but there was a subtle dimming around the edges, something softer, quieter. Some sparkle dimmed behind her eyes.

She held the six-pack against her hip as she took in the room—the bottle on the end table, the open file, the muted TV’s glow bouncing off his tired features. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a man running on fumes. Maybe that it was it. It could be just exhaustion. Or, maybe, it was more one sided. That wouldn't be the first time for Chelsea, either.

“Bad news for you,” she murmured with a flick of her thumb against the cardboard handle, “curiosity never killed me. Just gets me into… interesting neighborhoods.” Her eyes lifted to meet his, searching for a hint of warmth, humor—anything—but settled for the cool ocean-blue he offered.

She moved to the edge of his living room, but didn’t claim any real space. Didn’t sit. Didn’t sprawl. Even the beer she held remained unopened. Rather, Chelsea adjusted the black top and the frayed edges of her skirt riding on her thighs. His jab about the bribe coaxed a ghost of her earlier grin back. A beat, then she nodded toward the six-pack. “And yeah … a bribe ... the beer was just to get me in the door.” A shrug tugged at her sweater, pulling it partially off one shoulder before she nudged it back up. “And maybe an excuse.”

He shut the door behind her, and the boundaries came with it—sharp ones, the kind she wasn’t used to respecting but found herself toeing tonight. Chelsea inhaled, exhaled, then faced him fully when he ordered her to get to the point. Well, it was off to a more difficult start, off-putting at best, never quite used to being met with this. But, ironically, Chelsea was a girl that was anything but dishonest.

"You got a girl on your doorstep afterhours with a pretty short skirt," Her eyes lowered, lashes brushing her cheeks as her boldness cooled but brow ticked. “I just didn’t think you’d mind seeing me.”

the  sound  of  a  harley  was  unique,  especially  in  the  quiet  of  the  country,  and  one  that  she'd  never  forget.  once  upon  a  time,  way  too  young  and  naive,  cassidy  had  run  off  with  a  man  that  was  everything  her  family  wasn't.  danger  and  excitement  wrapped  into  one  gift.  the  blonde  had  paid  the  price  though  for  not  listening  to  her  wise  and  all  powerful  old  man,  and  sometimes  that  roar  reminded  cassidy  the  things  she'd  endured  to  make  it  back  home.

despite  the  difficult  memories,  the  diner  owner  couldn't  fully  despise  the  sound  of  those  machines  or  the  way  a  particular  harley's  tires  sounded  over  the  gravel  of  the  long  drive  to  her  front  door.  mainly  because  justin's  kiss  still  burned  on  her  lips.

a  peek  through  the  curtain  confirmed  that  it  was  indeed  the  vice  president  of  the  aces  &  eights  that  her  late  husband  had  belonged  to.  over  the  course  of  her  relationship  with  ray  she'd  always  noticed  looks  from  the  man  who  had  a  father  that  worked  alongside  her  own.  they'd  both  run  from  the  law  abiding  life,  but  he  thrived  whereas  the  blonde  had  been  punished  for  it.

what  always  tickled  in  the  back  of  her  mind  was  her  curiosity  if  justin  was  interested  in  how  they'd  both  wound  up  where  they'd  had,  or  if  it  were  attraction.  after  the  first  time  ray  had  laid  a  hand  on  her  the  loyalty  in  her  began  to  fade,  cassidy  had  begun  to  look  toward  other  men.  maybe  for  help,  for  rescue,  and  possibly  of  wonder  if  they  were  any  better.

"you  know,"  cassidy  began  after  opening  her  front  door,  the  sound  of  his  ominous  boots  over  the  wood  porch  followed  by  his  voice  had  brought  her  near,  "you  could  actually  knock  rather  than  yell  through  the  wall."  her  gaze  moved  over  his  handsome  face,  the  smile  sitting  on  her  lips  small  but  hopeful.  "that  leather  aught  to  be  keeping  you  plenty  warm,"  the  blonde  winked.

unbeknownst  to  her,  the  reasons  why,  the  aces  vp  had  started  coming  around.  checking  in  on  her.  so  justin  claims.  yet  there  was  a  whiskey  fueled  kiss  they'd  been  dancing  around  for  months.  cassidy  wondered  if  he'd  ever  follow  it  up,  or  if  he  was  hoping  she'd  forget  it  ever  happened.

"c'mon,"  she  ticked  her  head,  inviting  the  outlaw  in  as  she  stepped  back  and  opened  the  door  wider.  "i  don't  have  any  booze  but  i  can  get  you  a  coffee  or  something,"  the  lawman's  daughter  informed  and  closed  the  door  behind  justin.  "you  hungry?"  there  was  a  glance  over  her  shoulder  as  she  began  for  her  kitchen,  a  home  and  a  space  that  he  was  by  now  familiar  with.  "make  yourself  at  home."

it  was  scary  how  good  trouble  looked  to  her  once  again.

He tipped his chin toward her, eyes dragging over her face like a man committing something dangerous to memory. “Figured my voice’d carry better than my knuckles,” he muttered, half a joke, that rough-edged tone almost playful if you knew how to hear it. And with her, he was always a little more human, a little less steel.

The wink? That nearly did him in. His gaze flicked to the leather she teased him for, then back to her, slower this time. “Keeps me warm enough,” he rumbled, “but the welcome helps. Much warmer.”

He stepped inside when she beckoned, the familiar scent of her home curling around him—coffee, wood polish, and the faint sweetness that clung to Cassidy like it was made for her. Justin shed his gloves into a back pocket, eyes roaming the kitchen she moved through like she belonged in every frame of his life. Maybe she did.

“Coffee’s fine,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, tattoos shifting with the motion. “And yeah… I could eat.” A pause, heavier than the space it took. His pair of blues would take her in a beat than necessary and she'd surely spot him if she felt the weight of it. Even then, Justin wasn't ashamed, dipping lower to her collarbone, then the shape of her legs. “You sure about me makin’ myself at home, Cass?”

Because trouble didn’t just look good to her—it looked back at her with the same hunger. And making himself at home could mean plenty she may not have been ready for.

Justin watched her cross the room, that familiar sway of confidence mixed with something softer—something she only ever showed when she wasn’t guarding the world from getting too close again. It pulled at him, subtle as a hook under the ribs. He shifted his weight, boots thudding quietly as he moved farther inside, taking in the warm glow of her lamps, the faint hum of her old fridge, the way her hair spun like gold.

Hell, he’d ridden through rainstorms, bar brawls, and cartel shootouts without blinking, but one smile from Cassidy Clayton and his pulse did something reckless. Something teenage. Something stupid.

He dragged a hand down his jaw, the rasp of scruff grounding him even as he watched her from the doorway. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your night,” he offered, though his voice betrayed the truth—he’d been hoping she’d let him. “Just… figured checkin’ in was overdue.”

The real reason—the kiss he thought about on long nights, the one that tasted like nothing regret and everything full of need—he kept tucked behind his teeth. Maybe it was respect. Maybe it was fear he’d ruin the one piece of peace she had left. But then she glanced back at him over her shoulder, and something in him damn near cracked down the middle.

“You been good, yeah?”