“I love you too,” she whispers, voice muffled against his chest.
He releases her, then points at me like he’s aiming a weapon. “Bring her back.”
I nod once. “I will.”
Wyatt holds my gaze a beat longer, then steps back. “Goodnight.”
Stella forces a smile. “Night.”
We turn, and I guide her through the thinning crowd, my hand settling at the small of her back. Not because she needs help walking—because I need her in range. Because I can’t stand the idea of losing sight of her in the dark.
She glances up at me as we reach my truck. “You’re… very touchy for a guy pretending to be professional.”
I open the passenger door for her. “Get in.”
She laughs under her breath, but she climbs in, and I catch the way her body relaxes just slightly when she’s inside the cab.
I shut the door and circle around, scanning the lot before I climb in.
As soon as I’m behind the wheel, I lock the doors.
Stella’s gaze flicks to the locks. “That’s dramatic.”
“It’s smart,” I say.
She exhales. “Okay. I’m… not arguing.”
Silence fills the truck, thick and heavy.
Then, quietly: “I hate this.”
I keep my eyes on the road. “I know.”
“I hate feeling like I’m… prey,” she whispers.
My hands tighten on the wheel.
“Look at me,” I say.
She turns, and I catch her profile in the dash lights. Her eyes shine—not quite tears, but close.
“You’re not prey,” I tell her, voice low. “You’re protected.”
“By you,” she says.
“Yes.”
The word comes out harder than I intend. Like a claim.
She holds my gaze for a beat, then looks out the window at the dark road and the sleeping fields. “Okay,” she whispers again, softer than before.
I drive faster than I should.
Not reckless.
Just… urgent.
Her house looksnormal in the night.
