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The truck suddenly pulls hard to the right, and Hunter tightens his grip on the steering wheel, right when a loud thump-thump-thump sounds from under the car.

“Shit,” Hunter mutters, easing us onto the shoulder.

“What happened?” I ask, pulse skyrocketing. I grip the door and seat, peering out the window, but there’s nothing but trees.

“Just a flat.”

A flat.

“Could be worse,” he says, already reaching for the door handle. “I have a spare in the back.”

I stay seated while he gets out, watching him in the side mirror as he circles to the back. A minute later, I hear a string of low, creative cursing that makes my eyebrows rise.

“Everything okay?” I roll down the window and lean out.

Hunter appears at the tailgate, holding up the spare tire like it personally offended him. That’s when I realize it’s completely flat, maybe even flatter than the one we just blew.

“What should we do?” I ask, hopping down from the cab.

He checks his phone and frowns. “No service out here. Figures.” He runs an oil-smudged hand through his hair. “We can walk…” He eyes my platform heels and the long, empty road ahead, then adds, “... or wait for DK to notice we’re late and come find us.”

“How will he find us?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

Hunter’s hand lifts almost automatically, his thumb brushing the small spot behind my ear. His touch is feather-light and gone just as quickly, dropping his hand and stepping back, jaw tight. It does nothing to keep a rush of warmth from running down my spine.

“Oh. Right.” I’d forgotten. “You’re right. I’m sure he’ll figure it out soon.”

We end up sitting on the lowered tailgate, legs dangling over the edge. The late afternoon sun is warm on my skin, but the tension between us feels thicker than the humid air. Hunter is close—close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his soap. He keeps shifting like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

I clear my throat. “When I was younger, at Strong Manor, the other kids and I used to play this game when we were bored or stuck somewhere. It’s kind of a Q&A thing. Helps pass the time.”

Hunter glances over at me, one eyebrow raised. “What kind of Q&A?”

I smile a little, swinging my feet gently. “You ask a question, the other person answers honestly. Then they ask one back. Nothing too heavy. Just… whatever. It’s how I learned that Lila was terrified of squirrels and Sid wanted to be a pirate when he grew up.”

Hunter huffs a quiet laugh, the sound warm. Some of the tension in his shoulders eases. “Alright. I’ll play.”

I turn toward him on the tailgate, tucking one leg underneath me. “You start.”

He thinks for a second. “Favorite time of day?”

“Too easy,” I tease, grinning. “That quiet hour right after sunset, when the sky is still pink and purple, but the stars are just starting to come out. Yours?”

Hunter is quiet for a moment, staring out at the empty road like he’s considering it carefully.

“Early morning, when I’m coming out of the radio station,” he says finally, voice low. “Like five or six a.m., when the whole world is still asleep. Everything feels quieter. Cleaner. Like the day hasn’t had a chance to ruin itself yet.”

I smile softly. “That’s a good one.”

We go back and forth like that for a while. Favorite season (mine: fall, his: winter), weirdest food combination we secretly love (pickles and peanut butter for me, hot sauce on literally everything for him).

“I think I already know this one,” he says, cutting those blue eyes at me. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

The answer he’s looking for is ballerina. Or some kind of dancer, but the truth falls off my tongue, “Free.”

He frowns. “To do what?”

“Anything I wanted to. Dance. Study. Travel. Everything at Strong Manor was very regimented.” I glance up at him. “What about you?”