The morning light hit different after a night like that. Muted. Slower. Like the city hadn't quite woken up all the way.
Elena stood in the kitchen barefoot, waiting for the coffee to finish, her eyes locked on the key where it sat on the counter.
She'd taken it out of her bag without thinking last night. Dropped it beside her phone like it was just another thing to unload.
But it wasn't. It hadn't moved since.
The chrome caught a sliver of sunlight now, a clean arc of silver against the scratched wood. Like it didn't belong here. Like it never did.
She took a sip of coffee, eyes still on it.
It wasn't just a key. It was a question. One he hadn't asked with words—but one he left her to answer anyway. She didn't know what it unlocked. The car, sure—but maybe something else. A place. A test. A message. It could be anything.
Or it could be nothing at all.
Behind her, Carmen padded into the room, hair a mess, wearing one of Elena's oversized tees and a look that said don't talk to me yet.
She moved to the fridge, grabbed orange juice, and cracked it open. Took a long sip, then pointed at the key with her chin.
"So. Still staring at it?"
Elena didn't answer. Carmen didn't expect her to.
"Just saying," she added, voice thick with sleep, "if i ever leave you a message in the form of car keys, it better end with tequila and a bad decision. Not a mental breakdown."
Elena smirked. But her hand never left the coffee cup. And her eyes never left the key.
Carmen slid into one of the kitchen chairs, tucked one leg under herself. She took another slow drink of juice and rested her cheek against her palm.
"You slept?"
Elena nodded. "Eventually."
"You dream?"
Elena didn't answer right away.
Then "Maybe."
Carmen's brow arched, just slightly. "About him?"
"Not exactly." Elena stared down into her coffee. "More like the feeling of him."
Carmen was quiet for a beat. Then she said, "I don't think i've ever heard you say something like that."
Elena gave a dry smile. "Don't get used to it."
She set her mug down and finally looked at Carmen.
"It's not just about the car," she said.
Carmen blinked. "Okay..."
"I don't know what it is," Elena admitted. "But it's not just some guy showing up with engine trouble and disappearing again. The way he looks at me... Like he's already ten steps ahead."
"Yeah. That part's unsettling."
Elena nodded. "And the key?"
"You don't know where it leads."
No. But i don't think it's just about following him." She paused. "It feels like...he's waiting to see if i will."
Carmen leaned back to her chair, thoughtful now.
"You gonna?"
Elena looked back at the key. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I'm trying to figure out if i'm curious... or already caught."
Carmen let that hang in the air a moment, then spoke, soft and real:
"You don't have to go if it feels wrong."
Elena nodded. "yeah."
"But," Carmen added, "if it doesn't? If it just feels dangerous and stupid and kind of electric?
Elena smirked.
Carmen grinned. "Then i'd at least bring gloves."
Elena didn't reply. She looked at the key one more time. The room stayed quiet for a moment—coffee cooling, sunlight creeping across the floor.
Carmen stood and stretched. "I'll be here if you want to overthink this some more."
Elena snorted. "Thanks."
Carmen leaned in, kissed the top of her head like an older sister who never had to try hard to love her. Then she disappeared down the hall.
Elena stayed in the kitchen a moment longer. Then finally grabbed her mug, rinsed it out, slid on her boots, and left the key exactly where it was.
She didn't need it today. Or maybe she just wasn't ready to admit she did.
The garage smelled like oil and heat when she stepped inside. Familiar. Steady. Hers.
Elena shrugged off her jacket and tied her hair back, the motion automatic. She moved through the space like muscle memory—grabbing tools, flipping on the lights, checking the job list on the clipboard.
She needed something simple. Something mechanical. Something that didn't breathe against her neck in a dark room.
She pulled the tarp off the next project on the docket—a battered old Ford that needed more love than it deserved—and started working.
Let the sound of her tools drown out the thoughts she wasn't ready to face.
But even with the music playing low in the corner and the buzz of the garage settling around her, she couldn't shake it.
That moment. That key. The question still sitting on her counter.
Waiting.