CHAPTER 11

The hum of the engine is the only sound between us as Kieran drives aimlessly through the city. Neon signs blur past, casting shifting colors across his face, but he keeps his gaze forward, fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel.

I don’t ask him where we’re going again.

I don’t need to.

The way he keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eye, like he’s making sure I’m still here, tells me everything I need to know.

Tonight isn’t about the destination.

It’s about the silence between us.

And what it means.

After a while, Kieran finally pulls into an empty parking lot overlooking the river. The city skyline stretches beyond the water, lights reflecting on the surface in scattered ribbons of gold and white.

I exhale slowly, letting my head fall back against the seat.

“It’s quiet,” I murmur.

Kieran shuts off the engine. “Told you I’d find somewhere.”

A smirk tugs at my lips, but I don’t call him out on it. Instead, I push open the door and step out into the crisp night air. The river smells fresh, and the wind carries the faint sounds of traffic from a distance, muted and unobtrusive.

Kieran leans against the hood of his car, arms crossed. His eyes flicker over to me, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of us speak.

Then, quietly, he says, “You seemed off today.”

I pause, my fingers twitching at my sides. “Did I?”

He tilts his head slightly. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s ironic, coming from you.”

Kieran doesn’t flinch, but something in his jaw tightens.

He knows I’m right.

I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his posture. “So, are we doing this now? The whole let’s talk about our feelings thing?”

A ghost of a smirk touches his lips. “Would it kill you?”

“Possibly.”

He shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. But when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost hesitant.

“I just don’t like seeing you like that.”

The words settle between us, heavier than I expect.

I look away, focusing on the way the city lights shimmer against the water. There’s something about Kieran—about the way he sees me—that makes it impossible to lie.

So I don’t.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Lately, everything just feels… off.”

“Off how?”

I hesitate, then sigh. “Like I’m waiting for something to happen. Like I’m standing at the edge of something, but I don’t know whether to step forward or back.”

Kieran is quiet for a long time.

When I finally glance at him, he’s staring at me—not in the way people do when they’re waiting for a response, but like he’s searching for something.

Like he already knows what I mean.

“You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” he says.

I huff out a breath. “Yeah? And what about you?”

His lips press together. “What about me?”

I turn to face him fully, resting a hand against the car. “You do the same thing, Kieran. You act like you have everything under control, but I know you don’t. So, tell me—what are you standing at the edge of?”

Kieran doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looks past me, out toward the river, his expression shadowed.

I think, for a second, that he won’t say anything at all.

But then—

“I don’t know if I have anything left to stand on.”

The words are so quiet, I almost miss them.

But I don’t.

I hear them.

And they settle in my chest like lead.

Kieran never talks like this. Never lets his guard down enough to admit weakness.

Which means this—whatever he’s feeling, whatever he’s not saying—it’s serious.

I take a slow breath. “Kieran…”

His head turns slightly, just enough to meet my gaze.

Something in his expression cracks, just for a moment. Just long enough for me to see the exhaustion, the weight he’s been carrying.

But before I can say anything else, he shakes his head, straightening. The mask falls back into place so fast, I almost think I imagined it.

“Forget it,” he mutters. “It’s nothing.”

“Kieran—”

He pushes off the car. “We should go.”

I stare at him, heart pounding.

I could let it go.

I could pretend I didn’t see that flicker of vulnerability, that I don’t care enough to push.

But I do.

And he knows it.

“Fine,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. “But you don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down the second things get real.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I told you—it’s nothing.”

I take a step closer. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Kieran lets out a humorless laugh. “Why do you care so much?”

The words hit like a challenge, but I don’t flinch.

Instead, I meet his gaze head-on.

“Because you’re my friend.”

Something flickers in his eyes.

He looks away.

And for the first time since I’ve known him, he doesn’t have a response.

The Drive Back

The silence is heavier now.

Kieran keeps his eyes on the road, jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

I should say something.

I should try to break whatever invisible wall he just put up between us.

But I don’t.

Instead, I let the quiet stretch.

Because maybe he needs it.

And maybe, so do I.

By the time we pull up in front of my building, the tension still lingers. I hesitate before unbuckling my seatbelt, glancing at him.

His fingers tap against the wheel, restless.

I exhale softly. “Kieran.”

He doesn’t look at me.

“Thanks for the drive.”

He nods once.

I reach for the door handle—then pause.

I don’t know what makes me do it.

Maybe it’s the way his shoulders seem too tense. Maybe it’s the way he’s gripping the wheel like he’s holding something back.

But before I can talk myself out of it, I reach over and squeeze his hand.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for him to feel it.

His fingers twitch beneath mine, but he doesn’t pull away.

I let go.

And without another word, I step out of the car.

As I walk toward my building, I don’t look back.

Because if I do, I think I might see him watching me.

And if I see him watching me, I think I might start hoping for something I can’t have.

Something that feels too much like falling.