Jonah muttered something and backed away.
Kyla stayed where she was, eyes lifting toward the drive out of habit more than expectation.Nothing came.No headlights.No truck.No movement at all.She stood there for a second longer than she needed to, grip still tight, before forcing herself to move again.
That night, rest did not come.Kyla lay in bed with the sheets tangled around her legs, heat clinging to her skin.She shifted once, then again, then pressed her face into the pillow.
Sleep did not come.Her body remembered too much.
It remembered the solid press of him when she had nothing left.It remembered the strength in his hands, the steadiness in him when everything else had gone unsteady.She pressed her knuckles against her mouth and breathed through it.
Her phone sat on the nightstand, dark except for the steady charging light.She reached once.Stopped.Pulled her hand back.
No messages.
No calls.
She turned onto her side and stayed there, counting her breathing until the numbers blurred.
* * *
Dawn came gray andthin.Kyla stood at the sink and ran cold water over a cut on her thumb until the sting dulled.She dried her hands and moved through the kitchen, finishing what remained.
Coolers sealed.Boxes taped.Doors checked.Twice.
She stepped outside, loaded the last of her supplies into the car, and paused once more at the edge of the yard.The drive stayed empty.She got in anyway.
The engine turned over.She left the radio off and rolled the windows down, letting the morning air hit her face hard enough to keep her steady.No tears came.She drove.
Each mile stripped something away.Anger faded first.The edge of it followed.What remained settled deeper.At the stop sign outside town, she slowed and looked once toward the road that led to him.
Her hands tightened on the wheel.
Then she drove.
The fairgrounds stretched wide ahead, already alive with movement.Kyla pulled into the lot and cut the engine.She stayed there for a moment, hands resting on the wheel while everything around her kept moving.
Then her gaze lifted.Past the trailers.Past the pens.To the line of chutes.
A figure worked along the rail, back turned, one arm braced while the other drove a wrench down into metal.Broad shoulders.Familiar stance.No mistaking him.
Titus.
He did not look up.
Kyla’s grip tightened once before she forced it loose.The distance between them was not far.It felt like it was.
She opened the door and stepped out, boots striking the gravel with a force that traveled up her legs.No reaction followed.Nothing she could see from where she stood.
Fine.
She pulled her bag from the backseat, shut the door, and set her path toward the catering tent without looking again.If he wanted distance, he could keep it.Her jaw set as she walked, something inside her settling into place.She was done waiting for him to close it.
