Stella:
The car door shut with a quiet thud, sealing us into a space filled with nothing but the faint hum of the city outside and the steady rhythm of my own breathing. Tristan's hands flexed on the steering wheel, knuckles still slightly red from the punch he took.
"Don't drive yet," I said, turning in my seat to face him fully.
His brows lifted, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Changing your mind about the spontaneous adventure already?"
I ignored the tease and gestured toward the glove compartment. "Do you have a first aid kit?"
His lips quirked into a smirk. "Stella, I’m a hockey player. Of course, I do. That thing sees more action than I do."
I rolled my eyes and popped the compartment open, rummaging through an assortment of napkins, receipts, and a half-empty pack of gum be
