There’s a moment of silence.
Then Dean says, “You poor woman.”
Nathan snorts.
Harvey turns towards Sabrina and says, “You could’ve done worse.”
Sabrina cracks a smile, eyes lighting with something dangerously close to mischief. “You have no idea.”
And just like that, they all laugh—and the tension thins, a little.
But I don’t miss the way she’s still stiff beside me.
I don’t miss the way her eyes dart toward the entrance.
Or the way my fingers tighten on her hip without meaning to.
She’s not ready to trust me yet.
But she will.
Because I meant it when I said she’s mine.
And no one—no one—gets to touch what’s mine.
She’s been quiet for five blocks.
Too quiet.
Sabrina’s arms are crossed, her chin tilted just enough to make me think she’s still trying to ignore the way I keep looking at her.
But I can’t help it.
I should be asking her who that guy was. What the hell he meant by “we could be good together.” Why her face looked like someone had scraped the color from it with a knife.
But instead, I just… watch her.
Her profile in the low city light.
The tension in her shoulders.
The way she chews the inside of her cheek like she’s at war with herself.
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
She startles when she notices the route.
“This isn’t the way to my place.”
“I know.”
She straightens. “Langston. I have work tomorrow.”
“You’re not going back to that bar.”
“I haven’t quit yet.”
“I know that, too.”
