QUIET BETWEEN US
After that night, something changed.
Not in a loud, obvious way. There were no dramatic confessions or reckless promises. Just a quiet understanding that settled between them, gentle and fragile.
Leon stopped pushing her toward danger.
They didn't meet at races or crowded places anymore. Instead, he chose stillness—empty rooftops, late-night diners with flickering lights, long drives where the city blurred past and the radio played softly in the background.
Elliana liked those moments the most.
She learned small things about him. That he hated coffee but drank it anyway when he hadn't slept. That he fixed cars not just to race, but because broken things made sense to him. That he always checked the rearview mirror, even when they were parked.
"You live like you're always expecting something bad," she said once.
Leon's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Habit."
He learned things about her too. That she hummed when she was nervous. That she avoided certain roads without realizing it. That she smiled brightest when she talked about her sister.
One night, parked near the ocean, Elliana rested her head against the window.
"I don't feel judged with you," she said softly. "Like I don't have to be the Chief's daughter. Or the girl people whisper about."
Leon glanced at her, pain flickering behind his eyes. "You deserve that."
She turned to him. "Do you ever wish you could start over?"
The question landed harder than she knew.
Leon swallowed. "Every day."
Elliana reached out, brushing her fingers against his wrist. The touch was light, tentative—an unspoken question.
He didn't pull away.
Instead, he covered her hand with his own, grounding himself in the warmth of something he didn't deserve but couldn't let go of.
Sirens echoed faintly in the distance.
Elliana tensed, instinctively.
Leon noticed immediately. "You're okay," he said gently. "They're far."
She nodded, breathing through it. "It's stupid."
"It's not," he said. "Trauma doesn't ask permission."
She looked at him then, eyes soft. "You always say the right things."
Leon forced a small smile. If only you knew, he thought.
Later that night, after he dropped her off, Leon stayed parked down the street longer than necessary. His phone buzzed.
A single message.
Chief: You can't outrun this forever.
Leon stared at the screen, jaw clenched.
Because every quiet moment with Elliana made the truth heavier.
And the closer they grew, the more certain he became of one thing—
The silence between them wouldn't last.
And when it broke, it would take everything with it.