“Killian, I— fuck,” I hiss. “What do we do?”

He’s not breathing at all as he stares into the rearview mirror, his grip on my hand so tight the blood flow slows. “Fuck, Joey. I don’t know.”

For a few tense seconds, I don’t think he’s going to pull over at all, and then he releases a deep breath and begins to slow.

“Okay, just act normal. Look at me, Killian.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he whispers, releasing my hand to put the car in park. “I don’t have my ID.”

He’s still not looking at me, so I reach over to touch his face softly and pull his attention to mine. The fear and defeat I see in his eyes breaks my heart.

“It’s okay. I love you, Killian. You’re just a guy taking his girlfriend on a date.”

“You love me?”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The cop’s flashlight pours in before we can say anything else, and Kill lowers the window with a forced smile. “Did we do something wrong, Officer?”

“I don’t know, did you?”

Fucking cops. He leans in the window, blinding me for a second. “Nope, we sure didn’t,” I mutter. “Unless searching for and purchasing burritos is suddenly illegal.” It comes out far more casually than I expected, like a joke. “We’re just hungry, Officer. That’s all.”

“Uh huh.” He looks back at Killian, then jerks his head toward his cruiser. “You’ve got a tail light out. You know about that?”

“No, we didn’t. I’ll change it first thing in the morning.” He’s trying to pretend like he’s unbothered, but I can clearly see how rigid he is. “Thanks for letting us know.”

He reaches for the button to raise the window, but the officer speaks before he can. “I’ll need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

“Over a taillight?”

“I don’t know how you do things in your line of work, but we document everything in mine. Even taillights. We won’t keep you long.”

We, meaning he’s got a partner back there in that cruiser probably already looking up my license plate. Fuck. “No problem,” I cut in, grabbing the registration from the glove box and my license from my purse. “It’s my car, sir. My insurance cards are tucked inside the registration.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Still need that ID though, sir.”

He takes the papers from my hands and flashes Killian’s face again, making him blink and turn away. “I didn’t bring my wallet.”

“So you’re going to dinner without your wallet? Are you expecting the pretty lady to pay?”

That makes Killian frown, but a response dies on his tongue.

“These are modern times,” I remind him. “I’m allowed to treat him every once in a while.”

He seems to soften at the sight of my smile, and returns one of his own. “My apologies. Sir, if you’ll just give me your name and date of birth, we can look up your license and get you on your way.”

Killian is quiet a little too long not to seem suspicious, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel before he clears his throat and says his name.

“And your birthdate?”

“May 4th.” I can’t even hear the words as he says the year, all I hear is the defeat in his tone, and the breath he exhales as the cop asks us to wait here before walking away. “I’m fucked.”

“We don’t know that,” I say quietly. “Your license is valid, right? We don’t know for sure that you’re the suspect they have in mind. Even still, they clearly don’t have enough to arrest youor they’d have been blasting your name and photo everywhere. Just breathe, baby. We’re gonna be fine.”

He meets my gaze and allows me to comfort him, nodding as he leans in for a slow kiss that feels too much like a goodbye. “I love you too, Joey. I’ve been falling this whole time just hoping you’d join me. Thank you for keeping me grounded here.”

This isn’t how I wanted to tell him. Hell, it’s not how I wanted to admit it to myself. But with every step that officer takes toward us, I feel it in my bones. I love this man.