The apartment had grown quieter with each passing hour. Dani hadn't spoken to Jax since last night. She moved like a ghost—barely making a sound, slipping in and out of rooms with practiced stealth. The walls between them were thick and cold, and Jax didn’t try to break them down again. Not today. Not yet.
She needed space. And maybe he needed a minute to breathe, too.
Jax had spent most of the afternoon fixing up a busted carburetor Rico had dropped off earlier. He tried to lose himself in the rhythm of it, the hum of tools, the scent of grease and oil. But no matter how deep he buried himself in the work, his mind kept drifting back to her. To the way she looked when she walked out of the kitchen last night, her face tight, her eyes hollow.
He hadn’t seen that look on her before. Not
