She studies me. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Stay,” she says simply.
My chest tightens.
“I don’t mind,” I say.
“I know.”
We walk in silence for a block. Honey’s nails click against the icy pavement. Rory’s breath fogs the air.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie.
She hums like she doesn’t believe me. “You’re quiet.”
“Thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I laugh. “For who?”
“For everyone.”
I stop walking.
Rory turns, eyebrows lifting. “What?”
The words are right there. Burning my tongue. I could end this. I could tell her everything and let the fallout hit like it will.
I open my mouth.
Then she smiles at me—soft, familiar, trusting—and I freeze.
“You ever think about leaving?” she asks.
The question blindsides me. “Devil’s Peak? Where would I go?”
“Anywhere,” she says. “Start over.”
I shake my head. “Nah.”
“Why not?”
I meet her eyes. “Because everything I need is here.”
Her breath catches. I feel it like a physical thing.
Honey barks, breaking the moment.
Rory laughs, cheeks flushed. “Guess that’s my cue.”
She turns toward her place, steps slowing like she doesn’t want the night to end.
I walk her to her door anyway.
