She looked out over the ridgeline, her throat tightening. “You noticed all that?”
“I notice what matters. I’m not going anywhere, Ellie. Not because it gets loud. I’ve been waiting two years for tonight. I can handle a little noise.”
The car rolled to a smooth stop beneath the soft wash of her porch light.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The engine ticked quietly as it cooled.
He stepped out first, came around, opened her door.
She slid out slowly, his jacket still around her shoulders.
He didn’t rush her toward the house.
He walked beside her up the short path.
The night was quiet. Crickets low in the hedges. A faint breeze moving through the trees.
At the door, she turned toward him.
The air shifted.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that she could feel his warmth again.
For a heartbeat, it looked like he was going to kiss her.
Something in her chest constricted. A part of her wanted him to. A smaller, more frightened part pictured a stranger’s voice narrating this exact moment someday, folding it into a story she couldn’t control.
He leaned in— Paused. His mouth brushed softly against her cheek instead. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second. His hand settled lightly at her waist, his thumb pressing a slow, deliberate rhythm through the silk. He leaned in, the heat of him ghosting against the sensitive hollow just below her ear, and for a heartbeat, she actually tilted her head, baring the line of her throat in pure, treacherous invitation. Instead, his mouth found her cheek—just to the side of her lips, a slow, lingering press that set every nerve there sparking like he’d kissed her somewhere far more intimate.
"Goodnight, Eleanor,” he murmured. The vibration of his voice traveled straight down her spine, a low hum that made the silk of the dress feel like it was humming against her skin.
Not Ellie.
Eleanor.
She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the night air.
And then?—
Softer still.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her fingers curled in the fabric of his jacket at that, a tiny instinctive clutch before she made herself let go.
He stepped back before she could respond.
Gave her that faint, unreadable half-smile.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Not a question.
He walked down the steps without looking back.
