Breathe.
I stare at the wall like it might offeranswers.
A hot man I didn’t know stepped in without hesitation. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand gratitude. Didn’t make it about himself.
He just… punched Silas in the nose.
And somehow managed to look terrifying and ridiculously attractive doing it.
Then he gave me his sweatshirt and opened the car door like an actual gentleman.
I groan softly and press the back of my hand against my forehead.
Great. Now I’m ruined.
I kick off my boots and wander through the house, still buzzing from the high of being around him. I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror—wide eyes, flushed cheeks, his sweatshirt swallowing me whole.
I look ridiculous. And kind of perfect.
I pad into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water, and try to calm down.
It doesn’t work.
My brain replays everything on a loop.
The way his jaw tightened when Silas touched me.
The way his voice dropped when he said,I wouldn’t have allowed that.
The way his hands were steady when everything else felt like it was slipping.
What I felt tonight wasn’t comfort—it was certainty. The kind that doesn’t ask permission or wait for approval.
Most people want to be soothed.
I’ve always wanted to be claimed.
Which probably says more about me than I should admit.
And somehow, with him, it didn’t feel wrong.
The silence between us in the car wasn’t awkward… just full. Like invisible sparks floating between us. It made me nervous in a way I wasn’t used to. Not in a bad way. Just an I-need-to-keep-talking-and-fill-the-silence kind of nervous so I don’t touch him again just to see if the sparks return.
I lean against the counter and sigh. I should give the sweatshirt back.
I glance down at it again, tugging the fabric closer like it might try to escape.
No use doing that tonight.
For one thing, I don’t know where he lives.
For another, he said it was late. Me tracking him down and knocking on his door at this time of night might seem… weird. Stalkerish.
I’ll give it back tomorrow.
Once I figure out where he lives.
Which shouldn’t be hard. This is Hollow Creek. People sneeze, and the town Facebook group knows about it.
