The road blurred by. I watched his reflection in the window, how he’d started picking at the seam of his backpack instead of strangling it. I wanted to ask about the bruise, about Dennis, but I knew better than to push.
Instead, I said, “What’s your degree in?”
He hesitated, like he thought I was setting him up for a joke. “Computer programming. But mostly, I just work here to pay the bills.”
I whistled. “You any good?”
He shrugged. “I’m okay. Sometimes the code makes more sense than people.”
“I’d hire you at the ranch in a heartbeat,” I said, only half-kidding. “My security system’s held together with chewing gum and dumb luck.”
He looked at me, then looked away, but I caught the hint of a blush. “If you ever need help with it, I could take a look. After hours.”
“Are you offering to break into my network?” I grinned. “Because that’s the best offer I’ve had in weeks.”
He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, and the cab of the truck felt less like a bomb and more like a safe room.
We drove a few more blocks like that, trading dumb stories and little facts. He told me about the time he got locked in the hardware store overnight, how he’d built a pillow fort behind the paint aisle and eaten candy bars until sunrise. I told him about the prank war Rawley and I once started, how it ended with a goat loose in the main office at headquarters and a disciplinary hearing that neither of us attended sober.
Somewhere in there, our hands brushed on the center console. Just a graze—my pinky against the back of his hand—but it felt like getting hit by a live wire. We both froze. He pulled away first, cheeks red even in the dashlight.
I tried to play it cool, but my heart was going like a jackrabbit. “Sorry,” I said, because it seemed expected.
He shook his head, hair falling over his eyes. “It’s fine.”
We didn’t touch again, but the charge between us kept building, like a thunderhead ready to crack open.
We rode in silence for a full block. The only sound was the heater blasting and the faint jangle of my lucky keychain. I wanted to say something, anything, but the right words wouldn’t come.
Danny spoke first. “You didn’t have to do this.”
I shrugged. “Was in the neighborhood. Plus, I owed you for the fertilizer advice.”
He looked at me sidelong, a little wary, but not afraid. “You really drove all the way into town just for that?”
“Guilty,” I said. “I get restless out at the ranch. Not enough stimulation.”
He smiled, a quick flicker, then lapsed back to quiet. We passed the darkened window of the bakery, the rows of shuttered houses, and finally the gas station with the flickering sign.
Danny’s hands never left his backpack. I could see the tendons flexing, like he was working through math problems in his head.
I said, “You want to get coffee or just head home?”
He blinked, surprised by the choice. “Uh… home, please. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I took the turn toward the east side, letting the engine hum fill the silence.
When we hit the edge of his neighborhood, he shifted in the seat. “Could you drop me at the next intersection? The same one you dropped me at last time?” He looked embarrassed, but also a little proud of the boundary he’d just set.
I nodded, not questioning it. “No problem.”
He pointed out the corner, and I eased the truck to a stop.
He didn’t move to open the door, not right away. Instead, he turned to me, eyes bright and wild. “You’re not like the other alphas,” he said, voice barely audible. “Most of them would’ve… I don’t know. Tried something. Or told me what I should do.”
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not great at following scripts.”
He smiled, then reached for the handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
