“That’s because you’ve never let anyone give you anything without paying for it.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp even in the dim light. For a second, I thought she might argue. Instead, she let out a breath that sounded like surrender. “Probably true. But I still feel weird about it. Home Port?”
Rather than point out that your friends were absolutely the people whose drawers and cabinets you raided—I got the sense she hadn’t ever had that sort of friends—I only nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”
She’d learn. But not tonight.
On the drive, I kept my attention split: half on the dark road ahead, half on the woman beside me. She said nothing, staring out the window at nothing in particular. I didn’t get the sense that she wanted to put distance between us after what had happened. Neither did I think she was circling back around what she now knew—or at least suspected—about Gwen. Not yet, anyway. I wasn’t sure how long that might hold once we hit the bar.
For once, I wished we had a Waffle House on the island. It was damned hard to hold on to the dark in the face of loaded hash browns, eggs, and coffee had in bright yellow booths at any hour of the day or night.
Home Port’s parking lot looked like what it always looked like after eleven: too many trucks, too few spaces, and the faint, constant hum of people who didn’t want to go home yet. Music pushed out through the door every time it opened. A few guys leaned against a pickup tailgate, beers in hand, laughing too loud. Someone stumbled and caught themselves. Someone else shouted a goodbye that sounded like a threat.
Madden sat still for a beat before opening her door.
“You good?” I murmured.
She turned her head. In the dark, her eyes looked almost black. “I’m fine.”
That was never the whole truth with her, but tonight I let it stand. I got out, walked around the front of the truck, and held my hand out.
After a moment’s hesitation, her fingers slid into mine like she was testing what it was like to let someone lead without losing herself.
Inside, the noise hit us like a wall. The crowd wasn’t a crush, but it was busy. Enough bodies that you had to angle your way through. Enough voices that any conversation could disappear into the hum.
That suited me. We’d stand out less in a crowd like this.
Madden’s gaze flicked around the room in that way that told me she was assessing every person around us as a potential witness.
I kept us moving, two steps ahead of her, not in a controlling way. In a protective way. A difference she seemed to understand now.
We snagged a booth near the pool table, close enough to hear the smack of balls and the muttered insults between shots. The spot wasn’t private exactly, but it wasn’t in the center of the room either. We could see the door. We could see the bar. We could see the side hall to the bathrooms and the back exit that led to the alley.
Madden slid onto her bench and leaned back, stretching her legs beneath the table until her foot brushed my shin. Not an accident.
The electricity of the touch went all the way up my spine.
A server appeared, pen tucked behind her ear, eyes already tired. “Y’all know what you want, or you need a minute?”
“Burger,” Madden said immediately. “Fries. And… onion rings.”
The server’s eyebrows rose. “Hungry.”
“You have no idea,” Madden muttered.
I ordered a basket of wings and fries because I could eat my weight in salt right now and still want more.
The server walked off, and for a second Madden stared at the scarred wood of the table like it had answers.
I didn’t rush her. I watched the room.
A couple of regulars I recognized from my previous trips in here. One guy at the bar who kept checking his phone like he expected bad news. Two women in tank tops sharing a basket of something fried, laughing quietly, leaning into each other. A group of men near the pool table, louder than the rest, bodies loose with drink and arrogance.
Madden tapped her fingernail once against the table. A small sound. A tell.
“What?” I asked.
Her eyes lifted to mine, and something like reluctance passed across her face—like she didn’t want to open the door she was standing in front of.
