I stop a few feet away. "Ride with me."
I’m not asking.
She looks at me for a long moment, like she's trying to read something in my face.
Then she nods. "Yeah."
I walk to my truck, open the passenger door, and step back giving her access. She climbs in without another word. I close the door, walk around and get in.
We pull out of the lot in silence.
But it's not empty.
It's full of everything that almost happened back there. Me crossing that room. Her saying yes. The moment Cole stole before her hand could stay in mine.
And underneath it all—the question neither of us has answered.
What the hell are we doing?
I grip the steering wheel and drive.
Chapter twenty-two
Hazel
The truck pulls out of the lot in silence. Not the comfortable kind. This one sits between us, tight and charged.
I should have stayed home tonight.
The thought hits somewhere between the bar's fading lights and the first stretch of empty road. Should have known Cole would show up. Should have seen it coming. Should have protected that moment better somehow.
But I didn't.
Eli crossed the room. Asked me to dance. And for one perfect second, his hand was in mine and everything else disappeared.
Then Cole showed up and turned everything sharp and public and humiliating.
And now I'm in Eli's truck instead of Shae's car, and the silence between us is so heavy I can barely breathe through it.
I feel it in the way Eli grips the steering wheel. One hand loose, the other firm. Knuckles pale in the passing glow of the bar lights before the road darkens and the world narrows to headlights and dust.
The music from inside still echoes faintly in my ears. Boots. Laughter. The hum of something that had felt good just minutes ago. Now the night feels different. Thinner. Exposed.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye.
His jaw is set, gaze locked on the road ahead like it might offer instructions. He hasn't said a word since we got in. Not when he opened my door. Not when I buckled in. Not even when the tires crunched over gravel and pulled us away from the noise.
He's holding everything tight. The bar. Cole. Chace stepping in before Eli could throw the first punch.
I shift in my seat, the leather warm against my thighs. The silence stretches. Presses.
This won't ease on its own. I could let it sit. Let the weight of it ride all the way back to the ranch, thick and unresolved.
But I don't want that.
We're maybe five minutes out when I finally speak.
The gravel hums under the tires. Windows cracked just enough to let the night in. Music from the dance still rings in my ears—fiddle and boots and laughter lingering like warmth.
