I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into the shop.
The air was off.
No music. No banter. No heat.
Just silence and the sharp scent of something mechanical—like steel after blood.
Jesse wasn't in the main bay.
But his brother Evan was.
Leaning on a car. Watching me.
"Hey, Kade," he said.
I gave a polite nod. Kept moving.
But his voice followed.
"You ever wonder why Jesse never talks about his past?"
I froze.
Evan grinned. But it was bitter.
"He was in love once," he said. "Real deep. The guy ended up in the hospital."
My chest tightened.
"What happened?"
Evan tilted his head. "Ask Jesse. If he ever decides to be honest with you."
---
That night, Jesse didn't come home.
Didn't answer his phone.
Didn't reply to a single message.
I paced the apartment like a caged animal, shirt clinging to sweat, mind spiraling.
Hospital. Love. Wreckage.
Was Jesse dangerous?
Had he hurt someone before?
Had he been hurt so badly he'd sworn off ever trying again?
And here I was—
Sleeping in his bed.
Letting him bind me.
Letting him see me break and pretending it was safety.
---
At 2:17 a.m., the door opened.
I stood from the couch instantly.
He looked… wrecked.
Hair messy. Knuckles scraped. Shirt damp with sweat and engine grease.
"Where were you?"
"Garage."
"For twelve hours?"
"I needed space."
I walked to him, heart loud.
"You needed me," I said. "But you pushed me away because Evan opened his mouth, didn't he?"
His jaw tightened.
"You don't know what I'm capable of, Kade."
"Then tell me."
"I can't."
"Why?" I snapped. "Because it'll scare me? Or because it scares you that I might still stay?"
Silence.
Then—
He whispered:
"I don't deserve to be loved."
I stared at him.
Then stepped closer, voice shaking:
"You don't get to decide that. I do. And I already made that choice."
---
He reached for me then.
Not with his body.
But with his eyes.
Like he'd been drowning all this time, and I'd just reminded him he had lungs.
I wrapped my arms around him.
Held him hard.
Felt him fold into it like something sacred had finally cracked open.
---
That night, we didn't have sex.
We didn't speak much either.
But we slept tangled on the floor.
Like two ghosts trying to hold each other down to earth.