Jamie huffed out a laugh, the sound loosening something in Sloane’s chest. Getting his mate to laugh after the day he’d had felt better than it should.
Outside, clouds pressed against the horizon, thick and gray but holding their rain. The air tasted damp, promising a storm that hadn’t arrived yet. He led Jamie to the Charger, opening the passenger door before his mate could reach for it.
“Such a gentleman,” Jamie teased, but he slid inside without protest.
The engine purred to life, filling the interior with low vibration. Sloane pulled out of the lot, heading toward the highway that would take them out of town.
“Seriously, where are we going?” Jamie tried again, watching buildings slide past. “Because if this is one of those 'take you to a secluded location' horror movie setups, I should warn you I’ve seen every true crime documentary ever made.”
“Noted. I’ll make sure to avoid secluded locations.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Would it help if I promised you’d enjoy it?”
“A secluded location?” Jamie looked seconds away from jumping out of the car.
“What? No.” Sloane shook his head. The shit that went through his mate’s mind. “Where we’re going.”
“What if I hate it?”
“Then we'll leave and do something else.” Sloane merged onto the highway, heading west out of town. “But I don’t think you will. Trust me?”
The question hung between them, weighted with more than just an late-afternoon outing. Jamie studied him, teeth worrying his lower lip, that bruise on his temple a reminder of how trust could go wrong. But his mate had no idea he was in the safest hands.
“Yes,” he finally said.
Heat unfurled in Sloane’s ribs. His mate trusted him. After everything—William, the assault at work, all the reasons Jamie had to be wary—he still said yes.
Jamie watched the scenery pass, fingers drumming against his thigh. Nervous energy radiated off him. Every few minutes, his gaze would slide to Sloane, then away, questions building behind his eyes that he didn’t voice.
Sloane reached over, lacing their fingers together, grounding his mate with touch. Jamie didn’t pull away.
“Can I ask you something?” Jamie’s voice pulled Sloane from his thoughts.
“Sure.”
“Why are you doing this?” No accusation in the question, just genuine confusion. “We just met. You don’t owe me anything.”
How did Sloane explain that every cell in his body recognized Jamie as his? That walking away wasn’t an option, never had been, never would be? That from the moment their eyes met at the bar, something fundamental had shifted in Sloane’s world?
He couldn’t. Not yet. Not when Jamie already looked at him with wariness beneath the attraction.
Also, Jamie genuinely didn’t understand kindness that didn’t expect something from him. This man had been starved of safety for so long he couldn’t compute being cared for.
“Maybe I want to,” Sloane said instead. “Maybe spending time with you isn’t exactly a hardship.”
Pink crept up Jamie’s neck again, that telltale blush that Sloane was finding addictive. “You’re very smooth, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
“By who? Previous disasters you’ve rescued?”
“You’re not a disaster.”
“Tell that to my life choices.” Jamie’s fingers tapped faster against his thigh. “I have a gift for finding trouble.”
“Then it’s good you found me too.”
