“I’m driving.”
“You weren’t driving in the gear room.”
“Savannah,” they said, her name sounding like a warning or a plea or both. “I’m trying here.”
“Oh,” she said. “So am I.”
That ended the conversation.
Or whatever it was.
Traffic thickened near Worcester. Brake lights glowed red across the slush. Savannah gripped her knee again, fingers tapping.
She wanted to ask what Tilly was thinking. She wanted to ask why their voice kept going quiet around her. She wanted to ask why the kiss scared them so much. She wanted to ask why it scared her even more.
She didn’t ask anything.
Tilly didn’t either.
The silence stretched and stretched until her ribs hurt.
Millbrook hit them with a chemical tang the second they rolled down the window.
They worked.
Savannah talked to angry parents. She talked to exhausted firefighters. She talked to the environmental rep, who obviously didn’t want to be on camera. She talked until her voice felt thin.
Tilly stayed efficient and distant behind the camera, adjusting angles and leveling mics. Savannah kept catching herself searching their face for something, anything, only to find that careful neutrality.
They weren’t cold. They weren’t rude. They were just… contained.
It made her feel like she was standing outside an invisible line she hadn’t known existed until the kiss crossed it.
When they finished the second live hit, her cheeks were numb from the cold, and her feet hurt. The fire chief warned them about the roads again.
Savannah nodded, but she barely heard him.
The hotel was clean in the way highway hotels usually are. Neutral carpet. A weird plant in the corner. A small front desk with a tired-looking clerk.
“We should have two rooms under WDTV,” Savannah said, trying to keep her voice even.
“Yep. Rooms 210 and 211. Right next to each other.”
Of course they were.
Savannah smiled a little too tightly. “Thanks.”
Tilly reached for their keycard at the same time she did. Their fingers almost brushed. She pulled back too fast.
Tilly hesitated. “I can stay somewhere else.”
She blinked at them. “What?”
“In case you want space or whatever.”
“You’re not sleeping in the truck,” she snapped.
“I didn’t say that.”
