Page 177 of Show Me

Jake stands first, grabbing his keys off the table. “I’m going to take a quick look around the house. I'll call if anything comes up.”

“Thanks.”

He gives us both a nod before heading out.

Sam drains the last of his coffee. “I’m gonna shower before Ben starts yelling about hot water again.”

“Valid concern,” Xavier says.

Sam disappears down the hallway.

The house stills after that—just the low hum of the refrigerator. Ben moving around somewhere deeper in the house. And Xavier sitting half a foot away from me. Not beside me. A tiny difference. One I probably shouldn’t notice. Except I do.

His eyes hold mine before drifting toward the window. “We’ll get it figured out.”

We’ll. The kind of answer anyone would give. But is there a we in this case?

He pushes his chair back. “We should get going. Ben is letting me drive his truck. Got mine to the shop before daybreak.”

There’s that word again. I nod and stand.

For one stupid second, I wait. For his hand at my back. For our shoulders to brush. For one of those absent-minded touches that had become part of every day. Nothing.

He grabs his keys instead. Crosses to the front door. Holds it open for me. I walk past him into the cold morning. He isn't being cruel. He’s putting distance between us because we’re not alone. The problem is....

I cannot keep pretending that's enough.

Chapter Ninety-Three

Xavier

Ruby sits beside me as we pull down her street. I place my hand over hers, lacing our fingers together. Her resilience always impresses me. Hell, everything about Ruby impresses me, and if I’m being honest, it always has.

Ben’s truck smells like garlic and motor oil. Which tracks, considering he cooks like he’s feeding fifty people at all times and keeps enough tools in this thing to rebuild a house on the side of the road.

“Still weird driving his truck,” I mutter as I tap my fingertips on the steering wheel. The fall sun is barely warm enough to melt the frost on the windshield.

Ruby glances over. “You complain about everything.”

“Only the important stuff.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You mean things that inconvenience you.”

“Exactly.”

The corner of her mouth lifts. Good. I’ll take sarcastic over scared right now.

The driveway crunches beneath the tires as I pull up to her house. The temporary plastic I secured over the broken window lifts in the wind, snapping once against the frame.

Ruby stills beside me for half a second. “Okay,” she says. “That still sucks.”

“Yeah.” I kill the engine but don’t move right away. The house looks wrong now. Too exposed. Like someone peeled part of it open and left it that way on purpose. “Here’s what’s happening.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “That tone usually means I’m not going to like this.”

“You’re packing a bag.”

“For what?”