Chapter 20: Quiet Drives & Cold Hash Browns
The soft hum of the engine and the faint scent of cinnamon still clung to the air when Catherine slowly opened her eyes.
She was in a car.Not hers.
Warm. Safe. A jacket draped over her like a blanket — his jacket. Heavy with his scent: clean soap, something woodsy, something steady.
It took her a moment to remember.The rain.The slap.The wine.The photo.
And Collin.
She shifted slightly, her cheek cool from the window, and turned her head.
He was still there. In the driver's seat. Slouched back, arms crossed over his chest, eyes half-lidded but alert. The faint shadows under his eyes told her he hadn't slept either.
"You're awake," he said softly.
She rubbed her temple. "Did I fall asleep on you?"
"You were out after ten minutes." His mouth lifted in a small, tired smile. "Didn't want to wake you. You looked like… you needed the peace."
"You didn't have to stay," she murmured.
"I know." He looked out at the pale blue sky ahead. "But I wanted to."
The world outside the windshield was slowly brightening. Rain still tapped gently on the glass, but the worst of the storm had passed.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, starting the engine.
"A little," she said, her voice soft.
"McDonald's?"
She blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. "Are you trying to romance me with hash browns?"
He grinned. "Wouldn't dare. I just figure we could both use something hot and greasy."
They drove through the city's quiet outskirts, the roads slick and glistening. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was companionable, the kind that only comes after surviving a night that stretched far too long.
At the drive-thru, he ordered like a man on a mission — two hash brown meals, extra napkins, hot chocolate for her, black coffee for him. When she asked how he knew, he simply shrugged.
"I've seen you drink it in the café. I notice things."
They parked under a tree just off the highway. The early light filtered through rain-soaked leaves. Steam rose from their wrappers as they unwrapped their food in the quiet.
Catherine took a bite and sighed. "This is honestly the best thing I've eaten in twenty-four hours."
"Wow," he said dryly. "That's gotta hurt my ego."
She gave him a tired smile. "Okay, second-best. Your latte still wins."
They ate in silence, watching morning settle in. Her shoulders slowly relaxed. Her heartbeat no longer thudded in her ears.
Then her phone buzzed.
She froze.
Unknown number. Again.
She opened it with trembling fingers.
Another photo.
Rose.Maverick.In bed.
His bare chest, her lipstick all over his skin. Her fingers in his hair. Both of them smiling like they'd won.
Catherine didn't cry.
She locked the screen, flipped the phone face down on the dashboard, and stared ahead.
Collin didn't ask. He simply opened the glovebox, pulled out a packet of tissues, and placed it gently between them.
Catherine stared at the trees. "It's like they want me to break."
His voice was quiet but certain. "Then don't give them the satisfaction."
She turned to him, eyes brimming with exhausted honesty. "I don't know how to be strong anymore."
"You don't have to be," he said, not flinching. "Just be real. The strength will come later."
She didn't respond. Just took another sip of her hot chocolate. Her hands had stopped shaking.
The drive back to her apartment was quiet — but it wasn't empty.
Catherine sat beside him in the passenger seat, her hair still soft from sleep, her eyes watching the rain-streaked windows. There was something about her silence — like it carried a thousand soft heartbreaks that no one had ever truly listened to.
When they pulled up outside her building, Collin parked gently, engine still running. The street was quiet, the sky beginning to clear.
"You sure you'll be okay?" he asked.
Catherine placed her hand on the door handle… then paused.
"I will be," she said. "Thanks to you."
He nodded, rubbing his thumb against the steering wheel, like there was more he wanted to say.
"I don't want to make this weird, but…" He looked over. "Could I get your number? No pressure. Just... in case you ever want to talk. Or need another emergency hot chocolate run."
She smiled — real this time, small but steady. "We've only spoken twice. Once at the café, and… now this."
"I know," he said gently.
"But… thank you," she added. "For showing up. For being kind when you didn't have to be."
He held out his phone without a word. She entered her number, then saved it under the name:
Catherine. Just Catherine.
Anything more felt too soon.Anything less felt like a lie.
As she stepped out of the car, her red dress still wrinkled from the night before, Collin watched her walk toward her building — slower, but steady.
Still hurting.
Still standing.
And damn it if he didn't feel something stir again.
He exhaled, ran a hand through his hair, and checked the time: 9:52 AM.
His meeting was at 10:30.
He straightened his jacket, put the car in drive, and tried to shake her scent off his mind.
But it stayed.Like a song stuck between the ribs.