Page 193 of His To Erase

I open my mouth and close it. Everything in me’s still fried from Steven’s mood swings. My nerves are worn and raw, and I’m exhausted.

“I’m good,” I say quickly, gripping my phone tighter. “I was just ordering another?—”

“I’ll take you,” he says, keeping his voice calm. “Where were you headed?”

I hesitate. “Just going to look at a place. And I’ve got work later.”

His head tilts slightly, narrowing his eyes like he knows I’m leaving something out and doesn’t care enough to call me on it.

Then his gaze drags down my body. “You look tired,” he says flatly. “Rough night?”

My pulse skips.

“I’m fine.” I swallow. “Frank, really. I don’t need?—”

“I didn’t ask what you need, baby girl,” he chuckles. “I asked where you were going.”

It’s a subtle warning wrapped in concern.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, torn between flight and politeness. The whole scene feels off—like the street’s too quiet, and the air’s gotten thicker. But I’m too caught off guard to say no, and I don’t want to be late. So I open the door and get in.

The leather’s cold against the back of my thighs as I settle in, the door clicks shut behind me and I clasp my hands in my lap to keep them from fidgeting.

“Just downtown,” I say lightly, forcing a shrug that feels too casual. “I’m meeting someone.”

He says nothing, but watches me with one hand on the wheel, and the other tapping against the gearshift like he’s keeping time with my heartbeat.

Then, finally, he smiles.

“Back to the grind already?” he murmurs. “Figured you’d want more time to rest after… everything.”

My stomach curls, but I keep my tone bright. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to look at real estate.”

His knuckles tighten on the wheel—barely, but just enough that I catch it. A beat passes, then he lets out a soft chuckle, like I’ve said something funny.

“Of course not, Doll,” he says smoothly. “Just seems a little soon, that’s all. But you’ve always rushed into things, haven’t you?”

It lands like a rock in my gut, but I smile anyway, keeping my eyes straight ahead, but my heart is pounding a little faster now. I’m sure he’s pissed I haven’t responded to any of his messages, but I just don’t have it in me to care right now.

Outside, the neighborhood rolls by in a blur of pavement and porch lights, but everything feels… off. Like I’ve walked into the wrong version of my life, and left one threat in the woods and climbed right into another.

I press my palms against my thighs to ground myself, digging my nails in. It’s just a ride and yet the silence in the car feels like it’s waiting to devour me whole. By the time he pulls up to the curb in front of the shop, I’m already halfway out of the car.

“Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing my tote bag from the floor without looking at him. I don’t give him a chance to say anythingbefore I close the door and walk up the steps, pretending I don’t feel the weight of his eyes on my back. This isn’t weird at all.

The bell above the door jingles as I step inside—and for a second, I just stand there and breathe, forgetting everything else.

It’s perfect.

The light spills through the tall front windows, pooling across scuffed hardwood floors that whisper history with every crack. It smells like old paper and fresh potential.

Along one wall, there’s a built-in—deep shelves that beg for color-coded chaos and curated displays. A back door leads to what’s probably an office or a break room, I don’t even care. I can already see it. My counter, my music, my shelves.

I’m halfway through rearranging the future in my head when the realtor clears her throat behind me, making me jump.

“Sorry,” she says with a polite smile, clipboard tucked under one arm. “I didn’t want to interrupt your moment. It’s got a good vibe, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “It’s perfect.”