Ethan didn’t turn on the radio as he drove.
The city stretched ahead of him, lights blurring into soft streaks against the windshield, but his attention wasn’t on the road alone. It was divided—pulled backward by the memory of a quiet voice, a hesitant acceptance, a presence that had lingered longer than it should have.
He told himself it was nothing.
He had given rides before. Employees stayed late. Circumstances aligned. It was practical. Reasonable.
Yet this one felt… different.
Ethan tightened his grip on the steering wheel slightly, then forced himself to relax. Control was second nature to him—something he’d learned early, refined over years of expectation and scrutiny. Every decision he made carried weight. Every action was observed, interpreted, judged.
He was careful because
