And God, that’s what does it. That tiny shift. That quiet confidence. My hand comes up without thinking, hovering near her waist like I’m still giving myself a chance to pull away.
She exhales against my mouth, and it sends a rush of heat straight through me. My grip tightens just slightly, instinct taking over, every nerve in my body lighting up at once.
This is a mistake.
I know it—But I kiss her back. Just as soft and careful. And it feels right… too right. Her fingers curl slightly against my chest, and the contact pulls something deeper out of me. My thumb shifts against her side, and I feel her react—just a small intake of breath, but it’s enough.
Enough to push me over the edge of restraint. I tilt my head, pressing closer, about to deepen the kiss?—
The garage door creaks open.
“Garrison—” David’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.
Everything snaps.
Willow pulls back instantly, like we’ve both been burned. My hand drops from her waist, my heart slamming against my ribs as I turn—And there he is.
Standing in the doorway. Frozen. For half a second, no one moves. No one speaks. Then his expression changes.
Shock—
To realization—to something far, far worse.
“What the hell is going on?”
His voice is low.
I take a step back, hands already coming up slightly like I can somehow undo what just happened. “David, I?—”
“Don’t.”
The word cracks like a whip. Willow’s beside me, still, silent. I can feel the tension rolling off her, but I don’t dare look at her.
I can’t.
David’s eyes are locked on me. And I’ve never seen him like this. Not in thirty years.
“Get out,” he says.
I swallow hard. “David, listen?—”
“I said get out!”
His voice explodes through the garage, echoing off the walls.
I flinch. Actually flinch. That’s how bad it is.
“I didn’t—this wasn’t—” I try again, but the words sound weak, useless even to my own ears.
His jaw tightens. “You think there’s anything you can say right now that makes this okay?”
No. There isn’t. I know that. He takes a step forward, and instinctively, I step back.
“Out,” he says again, quieter this time—but somehow worse.
I don’t argue again. There’s nothing left to say. I grab my jacket off the back of a chair, my movements stiff, mechanical. Every instinct in me is screaming to fix this, to explain, to do something?—
But there’s nothing to fix. Not right now. Not like this. I head for the door, the weight of his stare burning into my back. I pause for half a second as I pass Willow. I don’t look at her.
