Chapter Eight
Chloe gripped her seatbeltso tightly that her fingers ached.She didn’t want to need Kayne this much.But the near miss kept replaying behind her eyelids in a loop she couldn’t shut off: the headlights appearing out of nowhere, the scream of tires, the impossible speed, Kayne’s arm locking around her waist as he spun them out of harm’s way.
If he hadn’t reacted instantly—she squeezed her eyes shut.Don’t think it.Don’t go there.Don’t let that thought finish.
The SUV hummed beneath them, the heater battling against the early-fall chill.Outside, St.Louis’s leaf-clogged sidewalks and early evening headlights blurred past.People were out walking, laughing, and living completely normal lives while her world quietly and decisively slipped out of alignment.
Kayne didn’t speak at first.He drove one-handed, the other relaxed loosely on his thigh, every line of him calm where hers felt like a bundle of exposed wires someone had forgotten to cap.
She hated that her breathing was still uneven, that her heartbeat refused to settle.Hated even more how much she wanted to lean sideways and rest her forehead on his shoulder like some helpless damsel who couldn’t keep herself together.
No.Nope.Absolutely not.
Her body didn’t care.She drifted a fraction closer before snapping upright and pressing her spine into the cold leather.Of course Kayne noticed.His eyes flicked toward her, quick and assessing.
“You’re quiet,” he said softly.
She swallowed.“Just thinking.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
“It’s seventy-two degrees in here.”
She clenched her jaw.“Kayne, please don’t fuss.”
“I don’t fuss,” he scoffed.“I observe.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”A slight correction, gentle but immovable.“Fussing is annoying.Observing keeps you alive.”
A tremor ran down her arms.She tucked her hands under her thighs so he wouldn’t see.
He saw anyway.
“You okay?”he asked.
The question was too polite and perceptive.It was too much.
“Fine,” she lied.
He hummed under his breath, a sound that translated to,I don’t buy that for a second, and kept driving.
The silence stretched, charged but comfortable.It was how the air felt right before a lightning strike.She stared out the window, seeing nothing.
“Do you think it was random?”she whispered.
“No.”
She sucked in a breath.“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“Because hesitation is how you end up hit.”
She jerked her gaze toward him.“You think it was about me?”
His jaw hardened.“I think you know the answer.”
