Page 94 of Reasons We Break

The closer they get to her house, the slower he drives. “Where should I park?”

“Driveway. My parents are at the gurdwara for an Akhand Paath.” Simran rakes her hair back. It’s so long it’s spilling over her seat. No wonder she keeps it in a braid. “They won’t be back until morning.”

“Why didn’tyougo?”

Simran avoids his eyes. “I said I was working on Hillway stuff.”

“Jesus Christ.”

She ignores this. “How areyougoing to get home?”

“Don’t know.” Don’t care. He just has to see her inside. He parks in reverse in case she needs a quick getaway. But as he twists to look behind him, his shouldersharplyreminds him of what happened earlier.

Simran notices. “You’re hurt!”

He finishes parking. A little lopsided, but whatever, he’s rusty. “Just my shoulder.” He jumps when Simran reaches over and starts running her hands down his chest. “Get off me. I’m fine.”

Unfortunately, right then she finds the bullet hole in his hood. Her voice hits a new pitch. “When didthishappen?”

“Tonight. Probably.”

“Probably?”

He doesn’t know how to tell her he’s been shot at before. “Relax, dude. It went straight through.”

Simran isn’t reassured. She grabs his hoodie. “Take it off. Right now.”

She has no clue he’s about to be psychologically tortured by those words for months to come. He pushes her hands away. “No way am I doing this here.”

“Then you’ll come inside.” Her voice firmly indicates she won’t get out of the truck until he agrees.

Rajan sighs and turns off the ignition. Only when he gets out and shuts the door does she follow suit. Then she trails him to the front door.

The two-storey house looms over him, the windows darkened. The lawn is well-trimmed. Hedges out front. Intimidatingly perfect, even when he knows the inside isn’t. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” Simran unlocks the door, and his heart thuds faster than ever when she glances over her shoulder at him. He hovers on the doorstep, feeling like a goddamn vampire. Enteringherhouse is...crossing a line.

But she holds the door open, so with a deep breath, he steps inside.

TJ ALWAYS ACCUSESSimran of being an adrenaline junkie, but not even Simran would’ve dared pull this stunt a few months ago. After all, what if her parents came home early? What if a neighbour saw her lead Rajan inside?

But, it seems the Simran of the present requires higher stakes than before to get a rush. She shuts the door behind them, encasing them in near darkness aside from the setting sun’s last rays spilling in through the window. She’s acutely aware of Rajan’s breathing next to her, standing in her foyer. It’s...thrilling. Intoxicatingly so.

Rajan breaks the silence, voice dry. “Should I strip now?”

“No. I need my glasses.”

“Your glasses are toast.”

“I have old glasses lying around somewhere.” She pauses. “I think, in my bedroom.”

Her words hang in the air. She holds her breath.

He stoops to pick up the vague outline of his shoes. “Well, lead the way.” His voice is a little thicker than usual. Like he, too, recognizes what a bad idea this is, but can’t bring himself to stop.

She turns to the staircase. Rajan follows closely, stairs creaking under their feet.

When they reach her room, illuminated only by dying sunlight, Rajan laughs softly. “Holy shit. Simran Auntie is a hoarder.”