The car was still there the next day.
Same spot.
Windows dark .
I walked slower past it this time.
Let my eyes linger.
Saw the silhouette of someone in the driver's seat.
Smoking.
Waiting.
Watching.
---
When I told Jesse, he went still.
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Just... still.
"Evan said something, didn't he?" I asked. "That guy. The one from before. He's back."
Jesse turned away.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't have to.
---
That night, I came back from the diner to find Jesse sitting in the dark.
No shirt.
Whiskey in his hand.
Eyes like a thunderstorm about to snap the sky in half.
"He's here," he said.
I locked the door.
Sat beside him.
Waited.
"He called Evan. Said he wanted to talk. 'Talk,'" he repeated, voice thick. "That's what he called it the last time too."
"What does he want?"
Jesse's laugh was hollow.
"He wants to see what damage he left behind. Wants to see if I'm still afraid of him."
"Are you?"
He didn't answer.
---
So I stood up.
Walked over to where he sat.
Straddled his lap.
Gripped his face in both hands.
"Listen to me," I said. "You are not the scared man he tried to break. You are not the villain he painted."
"I choked him out."
"By accident. In the middle of a scene he asked for. And you called for help. You stayed. You cared."
His hands curled around my waist.
Hard.
Needy.
"You think I'm worth defending?"
I leaned in, mouth to his ear.
"I think I'd ruin anyone who tried to take you from me."
---
We didn't have sex that night.
But we didn't sleep either.
We stayed up in the dark, breathing the same air, letting our bodies tangle like shields.
Because tomorrow—
The past might show its face.
And this time, Jesse wouldn't face it alone.