She felt how tightly he held himself.
The storm inside him was building.
“I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she muttered. She meant the car. Meant everything.
Gideon’s jaw flexed. “You’re not figuring this out alone.”
And for once, she didn’t argue.
He walked her to his car, unlocking the doors with a quiet click. She hesitated before sliding in, casting one last glance toward the street where her own car had been. Her escape. Her safety net. Gone.
Untethered.
She looked back at him. He was already watching her.
“I don’t need you to?—”
“Let me take you home, Arden.”
Not a demand. Not a plea.
Just steady. Grounding.
She slid into the seat slowly, the chill of the night following her in.
Before she could reach for the belt, he was there—leaning in, buckling it for her with the same quiet care he had before. The click of it locking into place felt louder than it should’ve.
His hand lingered a second longer than necessary, fingers brushing her ribs, grounding her without a word. Then he stepped back, shut the door with a muted finality, and circled to the driver’s side.
And for the first time since she saw the wreckage, she exhaled—shaky, but real.
?
The apartment felt different. Still hers. But too quiet. Too tight.
Penny sat on the couch in sweats, sipping tea, but the second Arden walked in, she straightened.
“What happened?”
Arden dropped her keys on the counter. The clatter was sharp in the silence.
“My car got vandalized.”
Penny’s brows rose. “Vandalized as in…”
“As in shattered windows. Glass and rose petals everywhere.”
The mug met the table with a muted thud. “Arden?—”
“I’m fine.” She toed off her boots, rolled her shoulders, like she could shake it off.
Penny wasn’t buying it. “This isn’t fine.”
Arden didn’t answer.
“And Gideon?” Penny asked, voice softer now.
A muscle ticked in Arden’s jaw. “He handled it.”
