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“You finished the vodka.”

I wait for him to continue, convinced there’s more to the joke, but he simply looks back at me with the same calm expression he’s worn all evening.

“That’s your accomplishment?”

One shoulder lifts in an easy shrug. “It seemed significant.”

I laugh loudly until I have to shake my head, wondering how someone who barely changes his expression manages to be this funny. His smile lingers for only a heartbeat before his gaze settles on me again, thoughtful in a way that makes my smile fade.

“You laugh more now than you did when you first sat down.”

I think back to the woman who walked through those doors tonight, carrying disappointment as if it had stitched itself into every step.

“I guess I do.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking toward the quiet street instead of at me. “I’m glad.”

That’s it. Two words. No suggestion that tomorrow would somehow be easier than today. He simply sounds relieved.

“I should probably head home,” I say, though the words don’t sound like a decision.

“Probably.”

But neither of us moves, causing the corners of my mouth to lift despite myself. “I think we’re both pretty bad at leaving.”

His gaze drifts toward the nearly empty parking lot before finding me again. “I’ve noticed.”

“I came here because I didn’t want to be alone. I just didn’t expect that to involve talking to a stranger for…” I glance toward the bar windows. “However many hours it’s been.”

“I don’t think either of us planned tonight very well.”

“No,” I shake my head, smiling. “I don’t think we did.”

Another comfortable silence stretches between us. It’s remarkable how different silence can feel depending on who’s standing beside you. Earlier today, the quiet in my apartment had pressed against me from every direction until I couldn’t think over it. This one leaves room to breathe.

“I’ve got a confession.” He looks toward the dark line of businesses across the street. “I don’t really want to go home and sit by myself tonight.”

“I don’t either,” I answer before I give myself a chance to overthink it.

“I was hoping you were going to say that.” He lets out a quiet breath through his nose, almost a laugh, as I smile at the asphalt between us. “My place isn’t far from here. We could keep talking.”

I look at him, the man who spent the last several hours accepting every answer I was willing to give without demanding the ones I wasn’t. I know I should get in my car and drive back to my apartment, but I hear myself say the only thing that matters.

“Lead the way.”

A flicker of something warm passes across his face before he slips his keys from his pocket. “You should drive yourself.”

“My apartment is close by. I can just leave my car here.”

“You could, but I’d rather you didn’t.” He doesn’t move toward his truck. Instead, he waits until I meet his eyes again. “If you get halfway there and decide this is a terrible idea, I want you to be able to turn around.”

The knot that had tightened in my stomach loosens almost immediately. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I’ve had a few minutes.”

He steps closer, and I catch the clean scent of soap mixed with whatever cologne he’d put on hours ago. For a second, I think he’s going to say something else, but he opens his arms just enough to leave the decision entirely to me.

I close the distance before I second-guess myself, and his arms settle around me. There isn’t a trace of hesitation in the way he holds me, but he doesn’t hold me any tighter than I let him. The cotton of his T-shirt brushes my cheek as I breathe him in, and beneath the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, something unfamiliar tingles beneath my skin. Not the dizzy rush movies always promise, but something quieter, like the first spark before a match catches. I pull back before I can linger long enough to understand it.