27. Kate
Kate
The truck rattled over the uneven road, every bump making Noah’s car seat shift slightly beside me.
My hand stayed on him anyway.
Outside, town had long disappeared behind us. The roads had narrowed into thick forest, trees crowding close on either side until it felt like they were swallowing us whole.
I checked the side mirror again.
Keno’s headlight still cut through the dark behind us.
It should’ve made me feel safer, but it didn’t.
It should’ve been Finn riding behind us instead.
My throat tightened at the thought, and I looked away quickly, focusing on Noah instead. He slept through everything, his tiny fist curled tight in his blanket, completely unaware that his whole life kept changing around him.
Motel. Clubhouse. Finn’s house.
Now, this. Another place that wasn’t ours.
I told myself that was why my chest hurt. Because I was exhausted. Because I was scared.
Not because I couldn’t stop hearing Finn’s voice in my head.
“She means nothing to me.”
“Just a job.”
The words hit just as hard now as they had the first time.
I stared out the window hard enough that my eyes burned, but it didn’t stop the memory from replaying.
Didn’t stop me hearing how easy he’d said it, like whatever had happened between us had only existed in my head. I should’ve known better.
Men said what they needed to say. They made you feel safe right before they reminded you why you shouldn’t trust them in the first place.
The sensation of Finn’s hands still burned beneath my skin anyway. The way he’d looked at me in his room. The rough sound of his breathing. The weight of him between my thighs.
Heat crawled across my face before shame followed right behind it.
I looked down at Noah, forcing the memories away before they could drag me under completely.
That was the worst part—not that we’d almost had sex, but that I’d almost believed it meant something. Finn had made everything feel easy without even trying.
The quiet mornings. The way he reached for Noah automatically. The way a room felt calmer the second he walked into it.
Safe.
My chest ached harder because somewhere along the way, Finn’s house had started feeling dangerously close to home. Not because of the walls.
Because of him.
The truck bounced over another rough stretch of gravel. One of the prospects shifted in the front seat, glancing out into the trees.
I barely noticed. Instead, I was thinking about Finn sleeping on the floor beside Noah’s crib, one hand resting against the side like even asleep he needed to make sure Noah was still there.
Still safe.
My eyes burned again. God, I was an idiot.
I’d started depending on him, measuring safety by the sound of his footsteps and by the low rumble of his voice telling me to eat something, to get some sleep, to stop worrying for five damn minutes.
And now, it was gone.
Noah stirred beside me, and I leaned over him, brushing my fingers over his chest.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
I wasn’t sure if the words were meant for him or me.
His tiny hand twitched before settling again. I stayed there another second, staring at his face in the dim light.
None of this was about me anyway. Not Finn. Not heartbreak. Not humiliation.
Everything came back to Noah.
As long as he was safe, I could survive the rest. I’d survived worse than a bruised heart.
The truck slowed as the road narrowed again.
“We’re close,” the prospect muttered from the front.
I nodded even though he wasn’t really speaking to me.
The trees had grown so thick now, they blocked most of the fading evening light. Shadows stretched between the trunks like something waiting. If someone had told me six months ago this would be my life, I would’ve laughed in their face.
Now, I was just tired. The kind of tired that settled deep in your bones and stayed there. I closed my eyes for one second.
Finn’s face appeared. His mouth against mine. His hand tangled in the sheets. The way he’d looked at me like he wanted me.
Then . . .
“She means nothing to me.”
My eyes snapped open.
No!
I straightened immediately, shoving the thought away.
Whatever had happened between us was over. It had to be. I couldn’t afford to want someone who could hurt me that easily. And I definitely couldn’t afford to trust him with what was left of me.
The trees finally thinned enough for the cabin to appear ahead. Small. Isolated. One dim porch light glowed against the dark.
No nearby houses except the prospects’ place somewhere farther down the road.
Just woods. Silence. And us.
The truck slowed to a stop. Behind us, Keno’s bike engine rumbled louder before cutting off completely.
I stared at the cabin as unease slid beneath my skin. Not because of the place itself, but because of the stillness. It felt too quiet, like the woods were listening.
Noah stirred again, and I reached for him automatically.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered.
As I lifted Noah’s car seat out the back, one thing settled heavily in my chest. Finn might have made me feel safe, but I was done mistaking that security for something I could keep.