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"Completely."

"You know I have a boyfriend, right? A boyfriend who's already pissed at you for existing?"

"I know."

"And you're still doing... whatever this is?"

"This," Gabriel says calmly, "is me buying groceries and checking on someone I'm worried about. That's it. Nothing Cole needs to feel threatened by."

Except we both know that's a lie. Cole feels threatened by everything—the wrong tone, the wrong look, the wrong amount of attention paid to anyone who isn't him.

And Gabriel showing up, intervening, caring? That's the most threatening thing imaginable.

"You should go," I tell him. "Before someone sees us and it becomes a whole thing."

"Okay." He doesn't move immediately. Just looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes. "But Paige?"

"What?"

"Smoking's bad for your health," he repeats.

I pull out another cigarette. Light it deliberately. Blow smoke in his general direction.

"These days," I tell him, "it's one of the healthiest things I'm doing."

He doesn’t look surprised. Like he's heard those exact words before from someone else. Someone who didn't survive whatever came next.

"See you around, Gabriel," I say.

He nods slowly. "See you around, Paige."

I watch him walk away, same unhurried pace, same quiet presence, and try to ignore the part of me that wishes he'd stayed. Try to ignore the part of me that knows, with absolute certainty, that Cole is going to be waiting for me after my shift tonight.

Try to ignore the part of me that's already planning what lies I'll need to tell to make this go away.

The cigarette burns down to the filter. I stub it out. Check my phone.

Five hours until my shift ends.

Five hours until Cole picks me up.

Five hours to figure out how to survive whatever conversation is coming.

Chapter 3 - Priest

I drive back to the clubhouse with Paige's words circling in my head like a prayer I can't finish.

*These days, it's one of the healthiest things I'm doing.*

She said it like a joke. Delivered it with that sharp edge she uses to keep people at arm's length, that defensive humor that's supposed to make you laugh instead of look closer.

I'm not laughing.

I grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary and take the turn onto Route 9 faster than I should. The truck handles it fine. Diesel rebuilt the suspension last month, but my hands are shaking slightly and that's not about the road.

It's about the way Paige looked standing in that smoking area. Tired. Scared. Defiant. Like she's been holding up a crumbling wall for so long she's forgotten what it feels like to let someone else carry the weight.

It's about Cole picking her up tonight and the dread in her voice when she mentioned it.