Tomorrow. The weight of it sits between us like a fucking barrier neither of us wants to acknowledge, stretching into the space, filling the silence with everything that hasn’t been said yet. She doesn’t have to say the words for me to know she’s thinking about leaving, about getting back in her car and making the drive home, about how this, whatever this is has to shift back into something different once she’s gone.

And I fucking hate it. I rub a hand over my face, dragging my fingers through my hair, my stomach tightening with the kind of frustration I don’t even know how to voice. I don’t want her to go. Not tomorrow. Not ever. But what the fuck am I supposed to do about that? Because the truth is, I have no idea how to ask her to stay longer.

I grab the remote pressing random buttons until something, anything comes on the screen. Some action movie, loud and fast-paced, bullets flying, explosions lighting up the frame like a goddamn fireworks show. It should be enough to drown out the thoughts hammering through my skull, should be enough to shove the reality of tomorrow into the background, at least for a little while. But it doesn’t work. Because I can still feel her. She shifts slightly, pulling her knee up to her chest again, her fingers resting against her lips, her eyes darting toward me, catching the way I’m gripping the remote just a little too tightly, the way my jaw has been locked since she sat down.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches. Feels it. And then, softly, hesitantly. “Carter?”

I force myself to keep my gaze on the TV, but I feel her turn toward me, the warmth of her body so close, the quiet weight of her attention pressing in on me. “What’s wrong?”

I should’ve known she’d catch it. She always does. I don’t answer her right away. I keep my eyes locked on the screen like the flashing images of car chases and shootouts are enough to drown out the mess in my head, but it’s pointless. Haven’s looking at me, not just glancing, not just waiting for a casual answer, she’s reading me, peeling me open with nothing but her presence, with the way she always knows exactly when something is wrong.