Page 12 of Monstrosity

Which leaves just Rio and me for the ten-minute drive to Beans & Babes.

The silence stretches between us, comfortable but charged.

I find myself stealing glances at his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair curls slightly behind his ear, the small scar on his temple from some accident he's never told me about.

"Dasha." My name on his lips makes me turn to face him fully. "About this morning?—"

"It's okay," I say quickly, not sure I can handle whatever explanation or apology he's about to offer. "You don't have to?—"

"Yes, I do." His knuckles are white where he grips the steering wheel. "I shouldn't have... I need to be more careful."

More careful.

Like touching me is dangerous.

Like wanting me is something to be avoided.

"Careful of what?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

He pulls into the parking lot behind Beans & Babes but doesn't immediately turn off the engine.

Instead, he sits there for a moment, staring straight ahead.

"You know what," he says finally, and there's something almost pained in his voice.

But I don't know. That's the problem.

I don't know if he wants me the way I want him, or if I'm just convenient.

I don't know if the moments of tension between us mean anything, or if I'm imagining them because I want them so badly.

"Rio—"

"I'll pick you up at five-thirty," he says, cutting off whatever I was going to say. "The girls have soccer practice, so we'll probably grab dinner somewhere after."

Just like that, we're back to the safe topics. Schedules and routines and the comfortable distance we've maintained for two years.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door handle, frustrated and confused and more than a little hurt. But before I can get out, Rio's hand covers mine.

"Dasha." When I look at him, his dark eyes are intense, almost desperate. "Be careful today, okay? If anything feels off, anything at all, you call me immediately."

"Why would anything feel off?" I ask, confused by the sudden shift in his tone.

"Just... promise me. Anything weird, any customers who make you uncomfortable, any feeling that something's not right—you call me."

There's an urgency in his voice that makes my stomach clench with unease. "Rio, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

"Nothing," he says too quickly. "I just... I worry about you. Working in a public place, dealing with strangers all day. Being close to the club. Just, promise me you'll be careful."

I study his face, looking for clues about what's really bothering him.

But Rio's learned to school his expressions, to keep his thoughts hidden behind those dark eyes.

"I promise," I say finally, because the alternative is getting out of this truck without any answers at all.

Relief flickers across his features. "Good. I'll see you tonight."

I lean over and kiss his cheek—a quick, friendly gesture that I've done a hundred times before.