The night was colder than I remembered. The kind of cold that didn't come from the weather but from silence, that heavy, deliberate kind of quiet that sits between two people who have too much to say and no way to say it. I'd barely made it three steps from the restaurant door before I heard the voice behind me. "Jill." It wasn't a question. It was gravity. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. The sound of that voice already crawled beneath my skin, familiar and infuriating. He caught up in seconds, of course he did. His strides were longer, his world faster. Teddy Fox didn't chase people, but tonight, he walked like someone trying to prove a point. Ramsey was still inside, probably nursing his ego and whatever brand of whiskey helped him sleep at night. He'd said his piece. The words
