His hand lunges for the volume knob, twisting it off so abruptly the sudden silence nearly gives me whiplash.
I blink, panting slightly from my EDM-induced workout.
“Wow. You’re such a mood killer.”
He exhales sharply through his nose, staring at the road like if he looks at me for even one second, he’ll lose the last shred of sanity he has left. “What the fuck was that?”
I scoff. “Excuse you?”
He drags a hand down his face. “That wasn’t music, that was an actual migraine.”
I gasp, clutching my non-existent pearls. “You hate progressive house music?”
“With my entire soul.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him. Because whoever doesn’t like progressive house is the devil reincarnate.
I pull the visor down and reapply some lip gloss. “You’ve never even tried to enjoy it, have you?”
“I have ears.”
I dramatically sigh, shaking my head. “You’re so uncultured.”
“And you’re so damn loud.”
I smirk, flipping my hair. “Get used to it.”
He tightens his grip on the wheel, and I swear I see his eye twitch.
I smile to myself. This drive just got so much more fun.
Ruby Ridge is exactlywhat I expected—a tiny town frozen in time, like it was ripped straight off a vintage postcard. The main street is lined with faded red-brick storefronts, their windows framed by chipped white trim and sun-bleached awnings that flap lazily in the warm breeze.
Hand-painted signs swing above narrow doorways, advertising diners that smell like fried bacon and fresh pie. Dusty general stores stocked with everything you never knew you needed, and old-school boutiques with mannequins dressed in floral sundresses from a decade long gone.
An American flag ripples over the courthouse steps, and somewhere down the street, the low hum of a guitar floats out from a porch where an old man rocks back and forth like he’s got nothing but time. The air is thick with the scent of honeysuckle and the distant promise of rain.
That feeling comes back, squeezing in my chest.
Happiness.
Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Grief took that away from me, masking it with alcohol, partying, and buying unnecessary things. I’m still a bad bitch, but I’m depressed and lonely. The nights consume me with my dark thoughts, my brain never shuts off, nagging at me, reminding me what a failure I am.
Being here, in this town, is sparking something within me.
The sidewalks are calm, only a handful of locals lingeroutside the shops, tipping their hats in quiet greeting as Carter and I make our way down the sun-warmed main street.
Carter stalks beside me, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tense like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He hasn’t said much since we parked, just grunted when I asked which direction to go.
“Do you ever actually smile?” I ask, glancing up at him.
“Do you ever stop talking?” he grunts, staring at the sidewalk ahead of him.
“Mmmmm. Nope. I’m loud and unapologetically myself, get used to it.”
He exhales sharply through his nose, grunting at me.
I communicate better with a rock than him.
