The light had turned red. The car had stopped smoothly.
"Metamorphic rocks are my favorite," he had said, his voice thoughtful. "They don't melt or disappear, they simply change form, keeping the same material but becoming something more aligned and stronger."
I had exhaled slowly. After a moment, his hand had rested near mine on the console. Not touching. Just close enough that I could feel the warmth of it.
"If," he had added casually, "you ever need an extraction from unwanted social climates... you can call me."
I had blinked. He had kept his eyes on the road.
"Or text," he added lightly. "I have an excellent response time. Borderline concerning."
I nodded slowly. He cleared his throat lightly.
"Here," he had said, holding out his hand. "Give me your phone."
I had hesitated only a second before placing it in his palm. Our fingers brushed. He typed quickly.
"There," he had said. "Now you have official access to my geological expertise. Twenty-four hour hotline. I will, as usual, talk your ears off."
He gave the phone back, his smile lingering a moment longer than before.
''Anytime,'' he murmured. ''About anything.''
The car had pulled up to my stop. For a second neither of us had moved. I had felt wrung out and strangely steadied all at once. I opened the door a little too quickly.
The air had felt cooler outside. I closed the door and started walking immediately, pulse still uneven, fingers wrapped tightly around my phone like it was something fragile and newly precious.
Chapter 16: Safety
(Ellis)
The door closed behind me, and for a moment I stayed where I was, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the glass, trying to reconcile the man I saw there with the one April had just refused to look at.
I had imagined this encounter differently in my head. I thought she would be surprised, maybe angry, but I did not expect her hands folded tightly in her lap as if I were something she had to endure rather than someone she once loved.
And I certainly did not expect him.
"I'm here with April."
The sentence had been simple, but the confidence beneath it had unsettled me in a way I wasn't prepared for. I stepped away from the entrance, but I didn't leave. Through the window I saw him sit back down next to her. April's shoulders lowered gradually and the tension draining from her frame in slow increments.
I used to be the one who did that. I used to be the person she exhaled toward. Now I was the disruption.
After a while, they stepped outside together and they moved toward his car, and I found myself still looking at them. I stood there as the car pulled away, the weight of regret and pain overwhelming me.
*****
I convinced myself it came from concern. I had every right to make sure she was safe. So for the following weeks, I looked around and asked people.
I began carefully, letting his name slip into conversations at work, presenting it as simple professional curiosity rather than anything personal. Each time, the responses followed the same pattern. He was steady, quietly competent, and consistently respectful. Someone who followed through on what he promised. Someone who moved through his work without creating unnecessary strain for others.
It felt too clean.
People are not that simple. No one is that consistently good without something buried underneath. I needed something concrete, something that did not depend on opinion or perception, so I arranged for a background report.
When the file arrived, I read every page carefully. At first, it was exactly what everyone had said. Clean record. Stable employment. No legal trouble. No financial irregularities. No sudden gaps that suggested instability.
Until I found one.
