But first things first. Gas, food, and saving for a new home… then maybe clothes.
Worn-out backpack in hand, I step outside into the cold morning air and head toward the parking area.
I stop halfway down the steps.
My car is not where I left it.
I blink slowly.
It was parked on the side of the lot, slightly crooked because the engine had coughed and died before I could straighten it out.
Now it sits neatly in front of the bar.
For a moment I just stare at it.
Okay… maybe I’m hallucinating.
Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened lately.
I walk over slowly and open the driver’s door.
“Let’s see,” I mutter under my breath.
I slide into the seat and turn the key.
The engine starts instantly.
No coughing. No shaking. No blinking warning lights on the dashboard.
Nothing.
The car just…runs.
My eyes flick to the gas gauge.
Full.
Completely full.
My chest tightens before I can stop it. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to calculate every mile, every stop, every risk of running out. A full tank feels wrong in a way I don’t know how to process, like something too easy, too generous, something I don’t quite trust yet.
I sit there in stunned silence for a moment before a single thought crashes into my mind.
Who…
Dex.
I shut the car off and climb out, my heart beating a little faster than it should. Then I turn and march straight back inside.
The smell of fresh coffee hits me as I step into the kitchen.
Dex is standing there.
He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that sit low on his hips. His dark hair is messy, and his green eyes lack their usual hardness. He looks… younger somehow. Less guarded. My gaze drifts without permission, taking in the lines of his shoulders, the ink that moves over his skin, the strength in his arms, before dropping lower and…
That’s…distracting.
I snap my head back up to find him smirking.
