Tilly watched her go, breath stuck somewhere in their lungs.
The heater clicked off.
The storm howled.
The cab felt cavernous without her — cold air pressing in where her warmth had been. Tilly leaned back, the seat creaking, their breath fogging in the dim light.
For the first time since she’d kissed them, they let the moment hit.
All of it.
Her hands were in their coat.
Her mouth on theirs.
Her voice cracking on “Please. Not tonight.”
Her fingers were grabbing their arm like she didn’t know what she was doing.
Her fear.
Her want.
Her silence.
Tilly pressed the heels of their hands to their eyes and sucked in a breath that trembled on the way out.
Want.
Fear.
Certainty.
And the goddamned ache of it.
The kind that didn’t leave.
Didn’t fade.
Didn’t pretend it wasn’t real.
They let their forehead fall to the steering wheel and exhaled once, rough.
“Fuck.”
The word fogged in the cold cabin, soft and final.
Outside, the wind screamed.
Inside, nothing moved.
And Tilly sat alone with the truth that wouldn’t let go of them now —
They were in real trouble.
The kind you didn’t walk back from.
The kind you didn’t forget.
