No sound in that parking garage. Just the low hum of the idling engine... and my heartbeat pounding louder than the metal around us.
Evelyn stood there, beyond the car window, clutching her phone. Face calm. Too calm. And I was still half in Alaric's lap. My hand hadn't left his shirt. Our faces... too close for coincidence.
Alaric slid out first. Slow, controlled—like a man who hadn't just nearly torched his own life.
"Evelyn," he said again, voice soft... too soft. "You left your phone."
"Yeah," she replied.
She stepped closer. Not to him—to me. I was still in the car. Trapped. Her eyes dropped slow—from my face... to my hand... to the rumpled collar of Alaric's shirt... back to my eyes.
That look wasn't angry. Not yet. It was a woman's gaze... remembering.
"Interrupting?" she asked quiet. Voice gentle. Too gentle.
"No," Alaric said quick. "We just pulled in."
"You're sitting... very close," Evelyn said.
I swallowed. "Car's tight," I replied. Dumbest excuse alive.
