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She doesn’t move either. Doesn’t reach for the door. Doesn’t look at me. She just sits there, still and quiet, like she’s holding herself in place.

I slide my eyes over to her again, slower this time. Her fingers are curled slightly in her lap, like she’s bracing herself for something.

Waiting.

Before I can stop myself, I flex my hand once against her thigh.

Her breath catches.

Damn.

I drag my gaze back to the windshield like I didn’t just do that.

“Home,” I say, like I didn’t just spend the few hours driving her everywhere but here.

She lets out a soft laugh. “We made it.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of us reaches for the door.

I should say something. End the ride the way I always do. Thank her, tell her to have a good night, maybe joke about the rating.

Instead, I sit there with my hand on her and this tight feeling in my chest like I’m about to miss something I haven’t even had yet.

She finally looks at me.

“You do this for everybody?”

There it is.

I lean back just a little, forcing some space between us even though my hand doesn’t move.

“Only the ones I like.”

Her lips press together like she’s trying not to smile. “That so?”

“Yeah.”

Silence settles again, heavier this time.

I glance down at my hand on her thigh like I forgot it was there.

I didn’t. I just don’t want to be the one to move it first.

“You gonna take your hand back?” she asks, her voice softer now.

I look at her. “You want me to?”

She holds my gaze for a beat too long.

“No.”

I nod once.

Noted.

She shifts in her seat, turning just enough to face me. “Come inside,” she says.