Zane's POV
The car slowed as we pulled up outside my house.
The familiar sight of home—the slightly crooked mailbox, the wind-chime Mom insisted on keeping even though it never stopped ringing, the porch light that flickered when it was too humid—was oddly comforting after everything..
Celeste shifted slightly in the seat beside me, glancing over at me, her fingers still resting lightly on the window, thumb tapping a rhythm I didn't recognize. Every one else has already got off on their places now its just me and her.
"You know…" she said softly, "you can talk to me about anything, right?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Her words didn't carry any weight of expectation. Just… space. A thread offered.
"Yeah," I replied. "Thanks, Celeste."
She gave me a small smile—one of those rare ones where her eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners. "Take care of yourself."
