I start the car, shifting into gear, pulling away from the diner. The streetlights blur past us, stretching shadows across the empty roads, the town winding down for the night, the world narrowing down to just us in the quiet of the car. I can feel her looking at me, waiting for me to say something, waiting for me to fill the silence with whatever it is she thinks I’m holding back.

She’s not wrong, there’s a lot I’m holding back.

The fact that my brother, who she already can’t fucking stand, is the same guy she’s spent the last six months bickering with online. The fact that I didn’t tell her before she got here, that I’m still not telling her.

The worst part, she trusts me. She’s sitting in my car, completely relaxed, no hesitation in her voice when she agreed to keep driving. Like she doesn’t have a single doubt about who I am or what I’m not telling her.

I grip the wheel tighter, my jaw clenching. I should tell her. I should tell her now, but I don’t. Instead, I dart my gaze toward her, forcing my smile back into place. As long as I keep her moving, keep her distracted, keep Tate out of the picture a little longer. I can pretend this isn’t already spiraling.

The road stretches dark and quiet ahead of us, the only sound the low hum of the radio and the occasional tap of Haven’s fingers against her knee, keeping rhythm with the music.

I don’t know where I’m driving. I just know I need to keep moving. Keep her away from Tate, keep the lie from unraveling.

Haven shifts beside me, pulling one leg up onto the seat, her face catching the glow of the dashboard lights. She looks… content. Like she belongs here, and I can’t afford to think about that right now.

I grip the wheel tighter, forcing my thoughts onto literally anything else, when my phone buzzes in the center console.

The name flashes across the screen. Tate, my stomach instantly drops. Fuck.

I reach for it answering before Haven can glance down and see the name, before she can start asking questions I can’t answer.

“Not now,” I mutter, voice low.

Tate laughs. Pthat’s when I know this isn’t just a casual check-in. He’s fucking with me. “What, no pleasantries?” His voice is too relaxed. “You left so fast, little brother. Thought we might have a nice chat.”

I glance at Haven out of the corner of my eye, her focus is still on the window, like she’s giving me privacy, like she’s not listening. When Tate speaks again I know she hears it.