The memory is soft and strange. Every time I stirred, his arm had been around my waist, his hand fisted in my shirt like he was afraid I might disappear. Once, I’d felt his face pressed into my hair, breath uneven, like he’d been dreaming something bad.
Now the space beside me is ice cold.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
What if something happened? What if he?—
The bedroom door opens.
I sit up too fast, but dizzy with relief.
Kaz steps inside, already fully dressed in dark slacks and a button-down. Holster at his side.
“No,” I say firmly but can feel the shift in the room—whatever is going on, I’mnotthe one in charge anymore. “There’s no way you’re going back to work already.”
He looks wrong.
Not injured, exactly. The bandages are hidden under his shirt, but I can see the stiffness in the way he moves, like every step pulls at something tender. His shoulders are tight. His jaw tighter. There’s no sleepy softness in his eyes, no heat, no quiet affection like there’s been the last two days.
Just distance.
He doesn’t smile.
“Get up,” he says.
The words aren’t harsh, but they are clipped. Professional. Like I’m staff. Like I’m Devin. Like I’m anyone but the girl who’s been sleeping tangled around him.
Something cold trickles down my spine. “Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it. I slide out of bed immediately, obeying without thinking, a strange, childish fear curling low in my stomach. I hate how quickly I comply. Hate how much I need him to just look at me the way he did yesterday.
He doesn’t.
He guides me down the hall with a light hand at my back, not possessive, not tender—just steering. Devin is already outside by the car, coffee in hand, eyebrows raised like she also got summoned without explanation.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
Kaz opens the back door for us.
“You’ll see,” he says.
That’s all.
The door shuts with a heavy, final sound, and Kaz gets into the passenger seat. No one speaks. As the car pulls away from the estate, I watch him in the reflection of the glass, completely unreadable. His face is set as if he’s going to war. Devin’s fingertips lightly brush my hand in reassurance. All I can think is,what did I do wrong?
The drive into Savannah unfolds in a strained, unnatural quiet that makes my skin itch. No music fills the car; no idle conversation passes between the front seats. Even Devin, who usually can’t go more than five minutes without cracking a joke to get a reaction out of me, sits with her hands folded tightly in her lap as though she’s afraid to move. The only sound is the low, constant hum of the engine and the muted rush of tires over asphalt while the city slowly wakes around us.
Streetlights blink off one by one as dawn stretches pale fingers between the buildings. Storefronts remain dark and shuttered, their windows reflecting the black SUV as it glides past. A few joggers wearing headphones are on the sidewalks, oblivious. For a moment, I envy their small, uncomplicated mornings.
Kaz sits in the front passenger seat with his back straight and one hand braced against the dashboard as though every bump jars his injuries. His jacket is already off on the side where the injury is. He looks sharp and composed, and completely unreachable. He hasn’t turned around once, hasn’t met my eyes in the rearview mirror, hasn’t offered even the smallest explanation.
The distance between us feels deliberate.
Devin leans closer and mouths,what’s going on?
I shake my head because I don’t have an answer. Not knowing makes my stomach twist tighter with every passing block.
