But then Penny linked their arms, warm and grounding, and pulled Arden forward with the effortless certainty only she could manage.
Away from unanswered questions.
Away from the shadows gathering at the edges of her life.
And toward laughter and light.
Toward something unfiltered and fiercely alive.
Toward a kind of safety that didn’t demand silence.
?
The train rocked gently beneath them, carrying them farther from the city’s steel and precision into a softer sprawl of trees and hills.
The skyline receded behind them, glass and ambition fading into memory.
Arden leaned against the window, her breath fogging the glass.
The motion should have calmed her. The rattle of the tracks. The warmth of coffee lingering in her hands.
But her thoughts refused to settle.
The rose.
The tea.
That tight, unmistakable sense that someone had been watching.
Still watching.
And layered beneath that?
A pull she didn’t understand and couldn’t ignore.
Gideon’s voice echoed in her chest—low, sure, unshakable.
“You’ve been mine since the night we met.”
It hadn’t been flirtation.
Not a line.
There’d been weight in his voice. The kind that doesn’t come without consequence.
She remembered the look in his eyes, storm-dark and unwavering.
He hadn’t been trying to seduce her.
He’d been claiming her.
The thought made her heart tighten in her ribs. Her fingers curled around the paper cup in her lap.
Part of her wanted to bristle. Push back.
She didn’t do ownership.
Didn’t do surrender.
