Chloe followed Ryan out of the house like a storm cloud—tight, fast, shoulders squared against the cold. The box in her arms felt heavier with every step, like Leia’s memory had rooted in the cardboard and refused to leave
She set it down beside the trunk of Ryan’s car and wheeled on him.
"What the hell was that?" she snapped.
Ryan barked a laugh—sharp, humorless. "You saw it. He sat there like it was a goddamn sitcom."
Her jaw flexed. “You almost hit him.”
“I should’ve.”
Chloe shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets, breathing hard. “Jesus, Ryan.”
“He deserved it.”
“Fine. But what would it have fixed?”
Ryan’s eyes burned. “Nothing. Just like everything else.”
There was a beat of silence. Breath steaming in the air between them.
Ryan leaned back against the car, arms crossed. “
