I nod, keeping my tone easy, like this conversation isn’t making my entire body go stiff. “Well,” I say, turning back to the road, keeping my voice calm. “Guess we’ll have to see about that.”

She doesn’t realize what I mean. But Tate will, and that’s the fucking problem.

11

Haven

The ride to Carter’s house is quiet.

Not awkward quiet, not the kind of silence that stretches too long and makes your skin itch, but different.

It’s weird, the Carter I’ve come to know doesn’t scare easily. I’ve spent enough time talking to him, enough time watching him navigate situations like he’s always in control, always easy, always unbothered. Right now though, he looks like a guy driving straight toward a fucking problem.

I clear my throat, keeping my tone light, teasing, giving him an out if he wants it. “You good, or are you regretting this already?”

Carter huffs out something that’s almost a laugh, but it’s not quite right, not quite real. He doesn’t look at me. He just keeps his eyes on the road, fingers flexing slightly against the wheel. “I’m good,” he says.

But I don’t buy it, not for a second. I don’t know why, I don’t know what the hell is waiting for us at his house that has him this wound up. But I’m starting to think I should.

The road stretches ahead of us, dark and quiet, the town has settled into its late-night, the sidewalks empty, the neon signs casting eerie reflections onto the wet pavement.

Carter grips the wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment, knuckles tight, tension rolling off him in steady waves. His posture is loose on the surface, leaned back, one hand resting against the gear shift, the other steady on the wheel but I know what I’m looking at.

A guy trying to pretend like he’s not losing his mind. I don’t say anything at first, I just watch him.

The way his jaw tics every time we pass another streetlight. The way his fingers flex around the steering wheel, tighten, release, tighten again. The way his chest rises just a little too slow, like he’s forcing himself to breathe evenly. What the hell is he so on edge about?

I clear my throat, shifting slightly in my seat, my voice purposefully light, just enough to test the waters. “So, is this the part where you take me out into the woods and tell me I was the target of some elaborate internet scam all along?”

Carter manages a laugh, but it’s short, distracted, wrong. “No,” he says, voice lower than usual. “You’d see me coming first.”

I blink, turning toward him fully now. “Wow, that was ominous.”