He nods toward the truck. “Get in. You’re off tomorrow, so there’s no excuse not to let someone feed you something that isn’t pre-packaged or from a deep fryer.”
I blink at him, hesitating. I know exactly where this is heading, and I’ve been carefully not looking it in the eye.
He circles to the passenger’s side and opens the door without a word. Stands there with one hand on the frame, waiting and giving me an out. His eyes meet mine and wait. My call.
I should say no and remind him of our deal. Of the lines we drew. Of how carefully I’ve built my life around control, and how I don’t do this.
But I’m so damn tired of being in charge of everything. So damn tired of thinking. So I move. One step, then another until I’m climbing in without another word.
When he turns the engine over, the heater kicks in with a low hum. The cab smells like coffee and something pepperminty—maybe the gum he always chews—and it’s warmer than I expected.
He glances over as we pull out of the lot. “Need more food?”
I shake my head, but don’t look at him. “You didn’t reply.”
“Figured showing up said it better.”
It does. And for the first time all day, my brain goes quiet.
Chapter fourteen
What the hell is bee-keeping age?
Reid
It’s silent for the first few minutes of the drive, with her stealing glances up at me with those tired eyes, and me pretending not to notice. She looks like she needs rest and quiet. A break from being needed.
I pull out of the lot and ease us onto the main road, letting the silence settle. The heater ticks with a low hum, and the dash lights glow a soft gold against the setting sun. She leans her head back, exhaling with what I assume is the first real breath she’s taken all day.
Something inside the cab is holding its breath, waiting to see which one of us will break first, and I already know it’s going to be me.
“Long day?”
“Longweek.” Her eyes stay on the road ahead, but her lips quirk slightly. “Is it that obvious?”
I lift a shoulder. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.”
She snorts. “I haven’t. Had five surgeries, one idiotic admin system, and a new intern who called the wrong time of death on a trauma case.”
I grimace. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” She shifts slightly in her seat, head turning just enough for me to catch the curve of her jaw in the low light. “It’s been a week.”
She doesn’t elaborate further or launch into the kind of venting most people do when you ask a simple question about a stressful week, but something in her voice is softer tonight. Lighter and less armoured.
I ease my grip on the wheel. “You said you get tomorrow off, though.”
“That’s the plan.” A pause. “If I don’t get called in.”
“Still,” I say. “Some time away is probably overdue.”
She doesn’t comment on that. Instead, her gaze drifts out the window where the buildings flash past in a steady rhythm.
“How’s the knee?”
I glance down at it instinctively, even though it’s been weeks since I’ve needed to.
“Cleared,” I say. “As of late this morning.”
