Page 52 of No Good Fight

“You’re driving?” I ask.

“No.” She unlocks the truck and gives the keys back. “I just wanted to see if you’d let me decide something.”

There’s no accusation in it which just makes the entire situation worse than it already is.

I close my hand around the keys and nod. “Anytime.”

The drive to the harbor is quiet in a way that doesn’t feel like we’re pretending or awkward. Alex sits in the passenger seat with my jacket around her shoulders, her bag at her feet, and her face turned toward the rain-streaked window. I keep both hands on the wheel because if I don’t, I’ll reach for her. The need keeps pulling at me every time headlights pass over her face.

When I left her apartment earlier, I told myself one more pass.

Then one became two.

Then her door opened.

She came out in leggings, boots she didn’t need to tie, and a sweatshirt I’m pretty sure used to belong to her brother. Laptop bag over one shoulder.

I followed because I was already there and might as well make sure she made it wherever she needed to go. That’s the excuse I used for the first block at least.

By the third, I stopped pretending.

I watched her walk into Lucy’s. I parked across the street. I told myself that Alex being in public was safer anyway, and she needed space more than she needed me breathing down her neck. Ten minutes later, I got a gut feeling that she needed me and I wasn’t going to wait outside anymore. Worst case, she’d be annoyed that I showed up. I could live with that. But the haunted look in her eyes when she saw me? Fuck, I’ll be haunted by that for as long as I live, I just know it.

Alex shifts beside me, and the memory cuts off.

“You followed me,” she says.

Not a question.

The wipers drag across the windshield. I slow for a red light even though the streets are almost empty.

“Yes.”

She exhales, staring ahead. “From my apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Because of the motion light?”

“Because of a lot of reasons.”

Her fingers tighten around the edge of my jacket. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean…” She turns her head toward me, and I feel her attention more than see it. “Part of me is furious.”

“You should be.”

“And part of me is really glad you’re here.”

I stop at the harbor lot and put the truck in park. The engine keeps running, heat blowing low from the vents. Outside, the storm pushes hard against the shoreline, slapping dark water over the rocks and throwing white spray into the air. The boats tied along the docks jerk against their lines, masts clinking in uneven bursts.

Alex watches the water for a while.

I let her.

The harbor has always been good for silence. It’s loud enough to take the pressure off and empty enough this time of night to make the rest of the world feel far away.