Chapter 118 I Beg Your Pardon? Savannah Silence has weight. I never realized how heavy it could feel until I was sitting in the passenger seat of Dean’s car, the leather cold against the back of my thighs, the low hum of the engine filling in the gaps of a conversation neither of us wanted to have. Unlike the rides with Roman—where silence meant comfort, where even without words I felt close to him—this silence was jagged. Uncomfortable. It was just like chewing glass. Dean smelled the same as he always had. Faint cologne mixed with the sharp scent of peppermint gum, something he’d always chewed to mask the taste of cigarettes back when we were together. He probably quit smoking since I don't remember seeing him light one in New Hope. But maybe he started again after everything that he had pinned on him lately. My stomach twisted at the familiarity, a visceral reminder that once upon a time, I’d actually found that comforting. Pathetic. I shifted, pressing closer to the window, my arms folded tight across my chest. If I angled my body just right, maybe I could pretend I wasn’t here, that I wasn’t stuck in this steel coffin with the one man who had the audacity to break me in half and then drive me home as if we were nothing but old acquaintances catching up. He cleared his throat. Too loud. Too rehearsed. “So… how have you been?” I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, my eyes rolled so far back I thought I’d strain a muscle. Great. Not only did I have to endure his driving, now he wanted to play small talk like we were coworkers running into each other at the grocery store. “Good.” My voice was flat. I didn’t bother turning from the window. Let him look at the side of my face. It was all he deserved. He gripped the wheel a little tighter, the tendons in his hands flexing. “Umm, any date for the wedding?” The fuck? I snapped my head toward him, anger sparking like dry wood catching fire. “Excuse me?” He kept his eyes on the road, but there was a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, the kind of smirk that had once charmed me and now made me want to claw it off his face. “Your fiancé just threatened to end my life if I so much as breathe wrong around you. I’m surprised he’s not whisking you away to the altar already.”“Oh, yeah…” My laugh was sharp and humorless. “Like how you whisked my sister away?” I tapped my forehead lightly, mockingly. “Sorry, I tend to forget that was fake. The only real thing was you sneakily recording us having sex.” That landed. His mouth tightened, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, almost a sigh. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I never meant to hurt you. Chloe just—” “Just drop it,” I cut him off. “I don’t care.” He nodded once, but his knuckles tightened on the wheel. The silence returned, thicker now, but he couldn’t hold it for long. Dean never could stand quiet; he had to fill it, to explain himself, to twist the narrative until he came out the victim. “Are you two always this… showy?” I frowned. “I beg your pardon?” “I just meant—you both seemed quite… passionate back there. Your fiancé is very… intense.” I laughed, leaning back against the seat. “Lucky me.” I drawled. “I was compensated with an affectionate fiancé for having a boyfriend that broke up with me on my birthday through text—only for him to marry my sister and then reveal it was all fake. I guess someone up there had my back.”Sarcasm was my weapon, and right now, I was brandishing it like a blade. Dean’s jaw ticked. “Sav… you’re never gonna forgive me for that, are you?” “You guessed right. Never. Just like how you made a recording of me and blackmailed my fiancé with it, you fucking creep.” “I regret doing that, Sav.” He took a breath, like he was about to launch into a speech. “But I’m just as much a victim in Chloe’s scheme as you are. She tricked me. She and your father—they blackmailed me, threatened me. You know how Chloe’s always been. She’s always been your father’s darling girl. So of course he gave her whatever she wanted. And that was me.” “Please.” My lip curled. “You admitted yourself that you always had eyes for Chloe. Did you lie?” Silence. He gripped the wheel tighter, his veins standing out against his skin. “Believe it or not, I do care for you, Sav. I always have.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Of course you do. I remember vividly how you’d only make an appearance when you had an urgent itch to scratch. That’s all I ever was to you, right? Convenience.” His head snapped toward me, eyes flashing. “Jesus, Sav! No. That’s not true. What the fuck? I truly cared for you.” “That’s a lie, Dean! Cut it out already. We’re not together anymore.” My voice rose, raw with years of unshed bitterness. “You never loved me. You only used me when it suited you. And now? You’re just a bitter little boy throwing a tantrum because a real man is finally loving me the way I deserve to be loved.” That landed. I could feel it in the way his face flinched, as if I’d punched him. His lips parted, his expression wounded. For once, Dean didn’t have a clever retort. “Is that what you thought of me?” His voice cracked, small. “Is that what you thought of our time together? That I was just using you for sex? That’s it? You didn’t feel my love for you? You didn't notice how much I cared?” I turned back to the window, watching the blur of trees streak past. Safer to look outside than into those pleading eyes. “Just shut up and keep driving, Dean. I’m losing my patience with you.” “I admit I wasn’t the best boyfriend,” he said after a beat. “I know I was distant. You know how much I was dealing with back then—” “I was dealing with shit too!” My voice exploded, louder than I intended, years of suppressed rage finally uncorked. “I was dealing with a lot more than you could ever fathom! My own demons were after me! I had more on my plate than college football and frat parties. I was hurting! I was dying slowly while you drank from keg to keg every other night!” His voice rose to match mine. “If that offended you, why didn’t you say something?! You should have fucking told me! Why keep silent then and now throw it all at me?” “Just drive, Dean!” I snapped. Roman’s voice echoed in my head: Do not get too comfortable. Do not engage in unnecessary discussions with him. I straightened, resolve in my tone. “And don’t you ever raise your fucking voice at me again. I am not Chloe. I will hit you.” That shut him up. For a moment. He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as if I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. “Whatever that dude’s been feeding you, it’s given you a huge pair of balls.” “Said the smallest man who ever lived.” “What was that?” he asked, not catching it. “I said, shut up and drive. You’re reminding me of all the reasons I hate you.” That worked. He shut up. For maybe thirty seconds. Then, soft, almost wistful: “We used to be very happy, Sav.”I barked out a laugh. “Only when my legs were open.” His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “Fuck, no. That’s not true.” “Stop lying. It’s pathetic.” “I loved you. You loved me too. Don’t you remember?” His voice was desperate now, unraveling thread by thread. “I remember you ignoring me. I remember feeling worthless while you chased parties and cheap highs. You don’t know the first thing about love, Dean. And neither did I. Not until I met a man who isn’t afraid to show the world how much he loves me.” His nostrils flared, his profile sharp in the dim streetlights flashing past. “Him and I are different people, Savannah. We’re not the same. We don't show our affections the same way.” “Thank God for that.” “I admit I messed up,” he pressed on, relentless. “I want to make it right. I want us to start over.” My laughter was uncontrollable this time, spilling out until my chest ached. “You must be insane. An escaped psychopath. Or maybe you're just a madman on the loose.”His jaw clenched. “I’m not joking.” “Well, you must be.” His eyes flicked toward me, something dark swirling there, something dangerous. “You’re not safe with that guy, Savannah.” I leaned in, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I suppose I’m safe with you?” He turned, just for a second, his eyes meeting mine fully. Cold. “That’s where you’re correct.” My skin prickled. “Excuse me?” His grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles turned bone white. He didn’t look away this time. “You’re not.” The words lodged in the air between us. My heart hammered. The road stretched endlessly ahead, the engine’s hum suddenly louder, more menacing. My fingers itched toward the door handle. For the first time since getting into this car, a shiver crawled up my spine and stayed there. And I realized—Dean wasn’t warning me. He was promising.