As I pull out of the driveway, the hum of the engine fills the space between us. Selene leans her head against the window, watching the town slip past in a blur of sunlit streets and quiet homes. She seems content, but the way her fingers drum absentmindedly against her knee makes it seem like she’s holding back.

“So,” she finally says, breaking the silence as she stretches her legs out in front of her. “What’s your favorite place in the world?”

The question catches me off guard. I was expecting small talk—a lighter topic to ease the weight pressing down on us. But I like that she doesn’t start there.

I tighten my grip on the wheel, considering. “I don’t know if I have just one. It’s more about a feeling than a place, you know? Like—” I pause, thinking of late summer nights spent at the cafe, the way the neon sign glows against the dark, the warmth of a freshly brewed cup of coffee in my hands. “Anywhere that feels like home.”

She hums as if she understands. “So, not a specific location, but the feeling of being grounded?”

I nod. “Yeah. What about you?”

She shifts slightly in her seat, gaze flickering to me before settling back on the road ahead. “I don’t know if I’ve found it yet.” There’s a wistful note in her tone that makes me glance at her a little longer than I should.

“No place that comes close?”

She exhales a soft laugh. “Maybe the ocean. Not a beach—too crowded. Just… standing at the edge of the world, listening to the waves crash. There’s something about it that makes everything else feel small.”

“Sounds lonely.”

She tilts her head, considering. “Maybe. But sometimes it’s nice to be small, to let everything else be big for a while.”

I don’t answer right away. The way she says it sticks with me.

The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind that settles, that lingers in a way that doesn’t need to be filled.

Glancing at her again, my heart skips a beat at the way she sits curled up in my truck like she’s always belonged there.

She must feel the shift in the air, too, because a slow smirk tugs at her lips. She turns toward me, the smirk on her lips just shy of trouble. “Alright. How do you feel about Twenty Questions?”

I glance at her, arching a brow. “You’re seriously wanting to play elementary school games right now?”

She shrugs, a playful smirk on her lips. “Unless you’d rather sit in silence, thinking about cyanide and dead bodies?”

I exhale a laugh. She’s got a point. “Fine. We’ll trade off. I ask, then you ask.”

She nods. “Deal.”