The tenderness in his expression made my ribs ache.
“That sounds like you,” he said. “Exactly like you.”
And something in his voice told me he didn’t mean the idea. He meant the dreamer behind it.
Outside, sunlight spilled across the footpath.
My phone vibrated again.
And again.
The storm was building in Dane’s eyes.
But he said nothing.
Instead, he guided me toward the crystal shop.
The air inside flickered with beams of rainbow light, refracted through quartz and amethyst and stones polished to silky shine.
I touched a smoky quartz tower, cool under my fingertips, grounding.
“This one calms racing thoughts,” the shopkeeper said.
I nodded, feeling the weight of it.
The steadiness.
Dane bought it without a word.
He didn’t say why.
He didn’t have to.
The reason was written all over his face.
The crystal shop door chimed behind us, sunlight spilling across the pavement like someone had turned the world warm just for us. Dane carried the small paper bag with the smoky quartz inside—his fingers curled around the handle like it was something precious, something fragile, somethingmine.
We barely made it three steps before my phone buzzed again.
Dane’s jaw flexed. He didn’t say a word, but the air around him thickened—protective, possessive, aware.
“Penn,” he murmured.
“It’s fine,” I lied.
But the screen lit before I could turn it away.
Blake:
What the fuck are you doing? Answer me. You think you can run around town with some guy and I won’t find out? You’re still mine.
His words hit like claws.
Dane held out his hand, not grabbing, not demanding, just offering.
For a moment, I didn’t breathe.
Then I placed my phone in his palm.
