"Old problem got a name?"
I look up at him.
"Not tonight," I say quietly.
He holds my gaze for a long moment. A shift moves through his expression, not soft, exactly, but with weight to it. He nods once.
He doesn't push.
But he doesn't let go of me either, and we stand like that at the edge of the overlook with the valley below and Derek's voice still faint in my memory, and for the first time since that phone lit up, the cold feeling starts to lose ground.
Chapter 8 – Ronan
I don’t move right away. Her forehead is still against mine, the valley spread out below us, my hands on her waist. I’m in no hurry to deal with what just happened—an unexpected thought in itself.
I kissed her. I did that.
I pull back just enough to see her properly. Her eyes are open, dark and steady, not scared, not performing—just present, like she chose this exact moment.
That look is going to cost me something.
"We should head down," I say. My voice comes out even. I'm proud of that.
She nods. No argument, no attempt to pull something out of the moment I'm not ready to give.
She puts the helmet on herself.
The ride down is quiet in the way that matters.
Not empty, charged. Every switchback amplified by her behind me, arms around my waist, chest against my back. The mountain road unreels beneath the tires and I keep my eyes on the next curve and try not to think about the fact that I can feel her breathing.
I pull up outside her house on Cedar Street at quarter past eight.
She slides off. Hands me the helmet. Stands in the porch light with her wind-wrecked hair and that steady gaze and doesn't say anything for a moment.
"Tonight—" she starts.
My phone goes.
Judge's name on the screen. She reads my face, takes a step back. Giving me room without being asked.
"Talk to me," I say.
"Blackridge MC." Judge's voice is clipped. Church tone, means business, no room for questions. "Stone followed one of them into Nell's Diner an hour ago. He was asking about the businesses on Main Street. Asked specifically about Ridgeline Clinic." A pause. "By name."
I go still.
"Stone's certain?"
"Stone doesn't guess."
I hang up.
Harper is watching my face. She's good at reading faces, occupational habit, probably. Whatever she sees in mine makes her straighten.
"What happened?" she asks.
"Someone was asking about the clinic today." I keep my voice flat. "Don't know what it means yet. But until I do, I want you somewhere I can account for."
