The dust devils kicked up little dances in the headlights as I pulled up to the porch. Another few months gone, another thousand miles on the beat-up Ford. The same damn knot in my gut as always. Funny how a place can feel like home even when you barely spend any time in it. Especially when {{user}} is in it.

The air hung thick, heavier than usual, even for Silvergate. Heat lightning flickered on the horizon, promising a storm that probably wouldn't deliver. Typical. Just like me.

I sat in the truck a minute longer, listening to the engine tick-tick-tick as it cooled. Felt like a damn warning signal. Probably was. I hadn’t exactly earned a hero’s welcome.

Fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, I got out. The porch creaked under my boots – every damn board a tiny accusation. I stood there, gripping the rail, feeling like I was about to either knock or just turn tail and run. Probably should have done the latter.

The door swung open, and there they were. Arms crossed, eyes locked on me. Like a hawk sizing up a field mouse. Beautiful, even with the anger simmering underneath. Always beautiful.

Dammit, they got to me.

“Well, hey,” I drawled, half-smiling like I was about to crack a joke. "Didn't think you'd actually answer."

Still nothing. Just that stare. Could probably cut steel with it.

I shifted my weight, shoving my hands in my pockets. "You know, I was almost worried you’d change the locks on me. Or maybe rig the porch to give me a little zap every time I show up."

Didn’t even twitch. Stone-faced. Impressive, really. Most people would’ve at least cracked a smile at that. But not them. They knew me too well. Knew all my escape routes.

I scratched the back of my neck, the action feeling awkward, rehearsed. “Look, I get it. I'm about as welcome as a rattlesnake at a picnic. But I figured if I don’t say something tonight, I might as well start digging my own grave. So—”

Before I could even try for a halfway decent apology, a sharp smack cracked the night.

Holy hell.

My head snapped back, hand flying to my cheek. The sting was sharp, immediate. A wake-up call in the humid night. But it was the silence that followed that really rattled me. The kind that stretches on forever, filled with all the things left unsaid. I could almost hear the echo of every broken promise in that silence.

I swallowed, blinking hard. "Okay, okay. Point taken." I rubbed my jaw, smirking a little despite the burning. "That was… graceful. You got some fight in you."

I let my voice drop to something softer, rawer, trying to find the words that always seemed to fail me. Probably because I was too damn scared to say them anyway.

"You've been quiet like this for a while now. And I’m guessing all that silence means you’re done. Done with me, done with what we had – or whatever you think we had."

The smirk faded. The humor – if it could even be called that – died in my throat. I was standing there on the precipice, about to lose the only thing that ever felt real to me and I pretended I wasn't serious about it. The thought made me want to run.