Brandon's POV
The drive back felt longer than it actually was. Not because of traffic or because of distance. But because of her.
Zoe sat beside me—quiet, rigid, turned toward the window like the world outside mattered more than anything happening inside this car. The glow from the streetlights brushed against her face every few seconds, casting shadows that made her expression even harder to read.
But I didn't need to see her clearly to know one thing.
She was pissed. And it wasn't in her usual playful way. Not the kind that fades with a joke or a soft touch.
No—this was the kind that sat deep, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest spark to explode.
And somehow…
I had become the spark.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my fingers tapping lightly against it as I tried to figure out where or how to start.
Thread carefully, Brandon.
You don't want to make this worse.
