The hum of the engine filled the car, night stretching endlessly outside the windshield. Kieran’s hand rested lazily on the wheel, the other draped over the gear shift. He looked completely at ease, like he wasn’t a man who could snap a neck with the same effort it took to change lanes.

She flipped through the radio, groaning. “Why is everything either static or country?”

Kieran smirked. “Welcome to hell.”

She finally landed on a station, some indie song playing. He didn’t comment.

A few months together, and she’d figured out that while he was a man of few words, when he did talk, it was either to tease her or shut down her bullshit. And right now, she could feel his eyes flicking to her every few seconds.

“What?” she asked, stretching in the passenger seat.

Kieran scoffed, shaking his head. “Nothing. You just look like you’re about to pass out, and I’d rather not have you drooling all over my seat.”

She kicked her foot up onto the dashboard. “I don’t drool.”

“Oh, you definitely drool.”

Her jaw dropped. “Kieran—”

“Had to wash my pillow twice last time. You should be fucking grateful I didn’t record it.”

She gasped, swatting at his arm, but he barely flinched. Just smirked like the asshole he was.

The road stretched ahead of them, quiet, endless. She sighed, watching the trees blur past. “Are you excited to be home?”

Kieran didn’t answer right away.

Home.

That word never meant much to him. His "home" had been a series of shitty safe houses and places he could sleep without worrying about a bullet in the head.

But now, with her in the passenger seat, talking like she belonged there—maybe it didn’t sound so bad.

Kieran clicked his tongue, eyes on the road. “If you keep asking dumbass questions, I’m making you walk the rest of the way.”