The campus parking lot was nearly empty. The night air bit sharper than it should have — crisp, quiet, under a sky that seemed to press down. Streetlamps hummed faintly above us, casting long, trembling shadows across the asphalt.
Jace didn’t speak. He walked beside me, jaw tight, hands buried in his hoodie pockets, like he was holding something dangerous inside.
I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him.
The shadows under his eyes.
The way his chest rose too fast.
The faint tremor in his fingers.
He wasn’t okay.
And for the first time since signing that stupid paper, I felt the urge to reach for him. Not because of the contract. Not because I had to.
Because he looked like he needed someone to steady him.
But before I could say anything, his voice cut through the cold.
“What did M
