But I couldn’t stop staring.
Because no one had ever done that for me.
No one had ever looked at the man who’d gutted me and thought,I’ll ruin you for what you did to her.
Not just thought — Ansel tore him apart. And while I couldn’t hear what he was saying, Iknewhe was defending me.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
I watched until the very end — until the cops tackled Ansel back, until he stopped fighting and just let them drag him away, chest heaving, eyes still blazing.
And in that sterile, fluorescent waiting room, I realized with bone-deep certainty: I’m not sure I ever wanted anyone more in my life.
My lip ticked up as my finger hit the replay button.
The door buzzed before I’d made it to the first punch.
He stepped out with an officer trailing behind him, cuff-free now but looking like he’d just walked out of a bar fight in a movie — lip split, knuckles torn up, hair falling wild over his forehead.
“Hi,” he said, almost sheepishly, like we weren’t standing in the middle of a goddamn police station.
I crossed my arms, lips twitching. “So.” He was already grinning. “You gotarrested.You know it’s not even eight am, right?”
“Couldn’t even change out of your pajamas, kid?”
“You owe me $3,000, cowboy.”
“I’ll give youthirtythousand if we can stop somewhere for coffee. My last cup got… I forgot it at the shop.” He slung his arm over my shoulders, doing nothing but exciting my skin more.
The officer behind the desk gave us both a pointed look. Ansel just stepped closer, the perfect picture of contrition and charm. “Promise she’s taking me straight home, officer. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
The officer snorted. “See that you are.”
Ansel’s hand brushed mine — soft, fleeting, deliberate. “She always keeps me out of trouble.”
My face flushed hot under the weight of the officer’s eyes.
And then —
The second the door shut behind us, the second we stepped into the cool night air — Ansel pulled his arm back like it burned him.
His smile was gone, wiped clean in an instant. He shoved both hands into his pockets, shoulders tense, gaze fixed straight ahead.
I blinked at him. “What?—”
“Let’s just go,” he muttered, voice low, raw.
My stomach twisted.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone who just made a scene back there.” I jabbed my elbow into his side.
“Because the scene’s over, Juniper.” His jaw flexed, eyes hardon the pavement as he stepped out of my reach. “I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to say. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, heat and frustration blooming in my chest. Because I’d seen the video. Because Iknewwhy he’d done it, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
But he didn’t know that.
The drive was quiet. Too quiet.
