"Will survive. You're not the first cop to fall for someone they shouldn't."
"I'm not falling for you." The lie tasted bitter.
His hand came up, fingers barely grazing my cheek. The gentle touch when I expected rough undid me more than any aggressive move would have. "No?"
"No." But I leaned into his touch anyway, my traitorous body undermining every word.
"Then why are you shaking?"
I was. Fine tremors running through me from that simple contact. "I'm cold. The freezer."
"Right." His thumb stroked across my cheekbone. "The freezer."
We stood frozen in our own moment, the gas station falling away. His hand on my face, my ice cream melting in my basket, both of us breathing too fast for people who were just talking.
He leaned in slightly, and for a moment I thought—hoped, feared—he might kiss me right there in the Quick Stop with Kevin watching. My eyes started to flutter closed, my body swaying toward him without permission.
A car door slammed outside, breaking the spell. I jerked back, his hand falling away.
"I need to go." My voice came out shaky, breathless.
This time he let me pass, but as I reached the door, he called out, "Your cruiser's been making that noise for three days. The grinding when you brake. You should get it checked."
I stopped, hand on the door. "You've been watching me?"
"I notice things. Especially things that could leave you stranded somewhere dangerous."
"I can take care of myself."
"Never said you couldn't. Just said you shouldn't have to."
I paid Kevin for my ice cream, hyperaware of Wolf behind me, of Kevin's barely contained excitement at having gossip this good. The kid was probably already composing the story in his head for tomorrow's shift change.
Outside, the cool night air hit my overheated skin. I'd parked the cruiser—the department vehicle I was allowed to take home—at the far pump, away from the lights. Wolf followed me out, keeping distance but still there, still watching.
"Be safe getting home, Deputy," he said, and something in his tone made it sound like more than just a casual farewell.
"I always am."
"No, you're not. You're reckless in your own way. Following the rules so hard you forget to actually live."
The words stung because they were true. I climbed into the cruiser without responding, but before I could close the door, he was there, one hand on the frame.
"How much longer are we going to do this?" he asked softly. "Circle each other, pretend we don't both know how this ends?"
"Wolf—"
"This thing between us isn't going away, Quinn. It's just getting worse. For both of us."
He stepped back, closing my door gently. Through the window, our eyes met one more time, and the raw want I saw there matched everything burning inside me.
I drove away with my hands shaking on the wheel, watching him get smaller in my rearview mirror until the darkness swallowed him whole. The ice cream sat forgotten in the passenger seat, probably already melting.
The drive home was torture. Every mile I put between us felt wrong. My apartment building loomed ahead, dark and unwelcoming. Inside, I went through the motions—shower, pajamas, pretending to eat something besides ice cream—but my mind stayed back at that gas station.
The way he'd touched my face. The way he'd leaned in. The way he'd said my name like it meant everything.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, body wound tight as a spring. Another week of this torture stretched ahead. Another week of pretending I didn't want him. Another week of being the perfect deputy, the good daughter, the woman who followed all the rules.
