Page 18 of California Wild

He stilled, listening.

Nothing.

But something in him stirred, sharp and unsettled.

Then—a flash of auburn behind the skeletal branches of a tree.

His breath caught.

No.

No, that was impossible.

Jesse’s pulse pounded against his ribs, every muscle coiled tight as he stood frozen in place.

It’s not her.

Couldn’t be.

The street was empty. Silent.

But for one moment, one unbearable second, it felt like something out there had been watching him.

Jesse swallowed hard.

Then he shook himself off, exhaling sharply, forcing his feet to move.

He was imagining shit.

Too much time in the dark. Too much in his head.

Shoving the lingering unease down, Jesse climbed into his truck, the door creaking as he pulled it shut.

The engine rumbled to life, drowning out the silence.

He didn’t look back.

Didn’t check the trees.

Didn’t let himself wonder.

Instead, he drove home.

By the time Jesse pulled into his small driveway, the city lights had blurred into nothing but static in his mind.

His truck rattled as he cut the engine, the quiet settling too fast, too heavy.

The house was dark. Silent.

Just like every night.

Jesse let out a long breath, running a hand over his face before climbing out and locking the door behind him.

Inside, the air was cool, smelling faintly of salt and wood from the open window.

No distractions.

No noise.

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