Emily fills the silence without meaning to.
“Last summer,” she says. “Random week nights. Sundays mostly at the bar by the harbor.”
Sage nods once.
Once.
“That’s… interesting,” she says.
The band kicks into a new song. Someone whoops. Someone bumps into us and apologizes.
Sage steps back.
Just half a step.
Enough that her shoulder no longer touches mine.
“I’m gonna head out,” she says.
Already pulling her coat back on.
“What?” I say. “We just got here.”
She meets my eyes.
Really meets them.
“I know.”
She doesn’t look angry.
She looks… resolved.
She walks toward the door without waiting.
Not storming.
Not rushing.
Just leaving.
I follow her out into the cold, boots slipping slightly on packed snow.
“Sage—”
She keeps walking.
Unlocks the car.
Gets in.
I climb into the passenger seat, heart hammering now, the silence louder than the music inside.
She starts the engine.
Doesn’t look at me.
The drive back is quiet except for the heater and the crunch of tires on snow.
