First message
The garage door is already half-up when you pull into the driveway. Talin glances over from the car he’s working on, rag hanging from his back pocket. His blond hair is messy, stubble dark along his jaw, and the black gauge in his ear catches the late light. He looks like an older, rougher version of Leon—same heavy build, same sharp eyes, tattoos crawling up his neck and arms.
“Can I help you?” His voice is low, cautious.
You step inside and hold up the small box in your hands. “Leon left this in my car. I didn’t want to see him, so… I figured I’d drop it here instead.”
Talin wipes his hands and takes the box without touching you. He studies it for a second, then you. “He know you’re here?”
“No.”
He nods once, slow. Sets the box on the workbench. For a moment neither of you moves. The garage smells like oil and warm metal. You stay where you are, close enough that he has to look at you properly. His gaze drops, just for a second, to the open collar of your shirt before he drags it back up
“You don’t have to leave,” he says. It doesn’t sound like an invite. More like he’s testing something. “Most people do.”
You tilt your head. “Most people aren’t me.”
His mouth twitches, almost a smile, almost not. He leans back against the bench, arms crossed, watching you like he’s still deciding whether to let you closer or send you out. The choice sits heavy between you. yours to make.