He stared out the windshield, the dashboard lights painting his profile in shades of blue. “No,” he said finally. “No family. Never had one.”
“What, were you hatched fully formed from a secret government lab?”
For a second, she thought she’d pushed too far, but then he surprised her with a small, honest laugh. “Might as well have been. State-run foster homes. Moved every year or two. Nobody ever stuck around long enough to matter.”
“That’s…” She stopped, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to joke.”
“Don’t be. It’s easier, not belonging anywhere.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
He looked at her then, and the air in the cab went brittle. She was suddenly aware of how close they were—two feet, maybe less, and she could see the flecks of silver in his eyes, the faint scar across his eyebrow.
“You ever get tired of being alone?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He swallowed, and for the first time since she’d met him, she saw the mask slip. Just a second—a flash of longing, of old wounds—but then that hard, implacable expression was back.
“No,” he said.
“Liar,” she shot back.
He didn’t deny it, and silence fell between them.
They sat like that in the dark, the engine ticking, neither one willing to move. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she leaned over, closed the gap. Part of her wanted to find out. The rest of her was scared to death she already knew exactly whatwould happen, because when she glanced over at him, she saw the flare of heat in those ice-gray eyes.
Those impossible, unforgettable eyes were filled with a wanting so sharp, it was a blade that seemed to slice right through all of her defenses.
Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Every angry, jagged edge inside her fused into something molten, as all her stubbornness, hurt, and hunger zeroed in on this one implacable man.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched her, every muscle coiled, braced against whatever came next.
She should’ve pulled away. Should’ve broken the moment with a joke or a jab, anything to put the armor back up. But her brain had shorted out. All she could do was stare back, her heart pounding so loud that she was sure he heard it.
If she leaned, just a little?—
The air between them crackled.
Ghost’s gaze dropped to her mouth. Lingered.
He leaned in, just enough that her breath tangled with his, just enough to make her ache. His eyes locked on her mouth like he was memorizing it, mapping every line, every tremor. Her hand curled on the seat between them, gripping the vinyl. All she had to do was close the gap. Less than an inch. Half that.
Her heart thundered, desperate and reckless.Please, she thought, but couldn’t say it out loud.
At the last second, he went still.
One heartbeat. Two.
He exhaled, jaw so tight it was a wonder it didn’t crack. Then he pulled back.
Naomi sucked in air. Tried not to show the shiver. Tried harder not to hate that empty space he left.
After what felt like forever, she pulled the handle and climbed out. But she ached in places that hadn’t ached in a longtime, and she wasn’t a coward, so she turned back. “Do you… want to come in?”
He shook his head, even as his eyes lingered on her mouth. “You get some sleep. I’ll come back in the morning.”
She nodded, stepping away, letting the truck’s lights chase her up the porch. She heard him reverse down the drive, the rumble fading as he disappeared.
Inside, she closed the door behind her and rested her forehead against the wood, trying to slow her heartbeat.
