Ace nods once, then heads for the door.
I stay at the window a moment longer, watching Peyton. She’s edging away from the crowd now, retreating toward the shaded end of the pool deck, her drink clutched in both hands. She doesn’t belong in this world—not really—but it won’t stop me from wanting her in it.
And that’s the problem.
My father didn’t raise me to protect the good things. He raised me to use them, then destroy whatever got in the way of the family’s business.
That’s the Black Diamond way.
And if Peyton’s not careful… she’s going to find out exactly how deep my darkness goes.
16
I’m notsure why the party ended so abruptly, but I’m glad it did. Even though it was nice to sit and bond with Lee after thinking for the last week he hated me, the pool party wasn’t my type of scene. I had expected either him or Pace to drive me back home.
What I hadn’t expected was for Colter to approach me, keys jingling in his hand and asking me if I’m ready to go.
The drive back starts out in thick, weighted silence. Not uncomfortable, but after how weird he acted after confronting Laura for being rude to me, I’m not sure how to act. Colter’s hand rests easy on the console between us, fingers tapping absently, close enough that the back of my hand picks up the warmth radiating from him. His profile is sharp in the low glow of the dash, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
I sneak glances at him when I think he won’t notice—his jaw set but not clenched, the faint crease in his brow that always makes him look like he’s thinking ten steps ahead. Does he regret being the one to drive me home? Did he have no other choice? Sometimes I feel as if he knows more about me than I’ve told him. He has this way of subtly acting as if I belong to him when we’ve barely even been in one another’s presence.
“You missing the city yet?” he asks suddenly, voice pitched low, like he’s testing the question because he’s afraid of the answer.
I sit for a beat, then shake my head. “Not really. I mean…sure, there are things I enjoyed. Coffee shops on every corner, places to go when you couldn’t sleep. But it was mostly too loud and too crowded.” My voice softens as the ache creeps in. “And at night, you couldn’t see the stars because of all the city lights drowned them out.”
My statement earns me a look. Quick. Sharp. He goes back to the road before I can read it. “Stars, huh?”
“Yeah.” My throat tightens at the memory of my mother. “Before we moved to the city, when I was around six or seven, I can’t really remember. We used to live in this big RV park out in the desert. It was small and cramped, but whenever I was feeling boxed in, she would take me outside and lay a blanket down and we would watch the stars light up across the sky. “I let out a long breath as I hold back the tears. “It was before her addiction really started.” Shaking off the nostalgia, I shrug a shoulder. “You don’t realize how much you miss the stars until they’re gone. When we moved to the city, it was like the whole sky disappeared. It became this hazy mess of light. Made me feel—trapped. Like I was living under a lid.”
Colter hums deep in his chest, almost approving, almost thoughtful. Instead of turning left at the ranch gate, he keeps straight, the truck rumbling over gravel.
“Uh… you missed the turn,” I murmur.
“Didn’t miss it,” he says, mouth quirking the faintest bit. “Taking a different one.”
We ride in silence until the fences fade behind us, the land stretching wide and endless. Finally, he coasts the truck up a gentle slope, the engine easing down as he cuts the headlights.Darkness swallows us whole. For a heartbeat, the world feels empty—like falling into nothing. Then, slowly, the night unfolds.
The sky is alive.
Stars scatter thick and brilliant overhead, so many that the black looks more silver than dark. They stretch in a way that makes my chest ache, like the world has cracked open to show me something I wasn’t supposed to see.
“Oh.” My voice slips out on a breath, the sound trembling with awe. “God, it’s beautiful.”
Colter doesn’t answer right away. He leans back against the headrest, one arm loose on the steering wheel, his eyes turned toward me more than the heavens. In the faint spill of starlight, I catch the shift of his expression. It’s not hard or guarded. Just open.
“Figured you might like it,” he says finally, like he hadn’t been sure until now.
I can’t look away from the sky. My chest feels tight and light at the same time. “Like it? I love it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen this many. It doesn’t feel real.”
“Gets better out here,” he murmurs. “No streetlights. No horns. Only this. It’s why my family had always fought to protect our land. Our legacy.”
I hug my arms around myself, suddenly aware of the cool night air seeping in through the cracked window. It smells of grass, earth, and the faint tang of sage carried on the breeze. The quiet is profound, almost startling after the steady hum of city life that used to press in from every angle.
“You bring a lot of people here?” The question leaves me softer than I mean it to, maybe betraying more than I want.
His gaze lingers, steady, unflinching. The corners of his mouth twitch into something warmer than his usual reservedness. “No. Just you.”
My breath catches.
