Chapter Forty-Six

Maddox

The drive was quiet.

Too quiet.

I kept my hands firm on the wheel, eyes on the road ahead, but I could feel Kyle beside me—stiff, withdrawn, his body turned toward the window like I wasn’t even there. He hadn’t looked at me once since we left the house. His breath fogged a soft blur on the glass, and the silence stretched between us like a thread pulled tight.

I didn’t push him.

What was I supposed to say?

I’d crossed a line—no, we both had. And now we were on our way to face the reality neither of us could rewrite. I glanced at him briefly, just to check if he’d moved, but he remained still, like a fragile sculpture carved out of guilt and confusion.

When we arrived at the hospital, he got out without a word.

We walked side by side through the parking lot, past the glass doors, through the wide corridors of the hospital, and into the elevator, but it was like walking with a ghost. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. His arms stayed folded tightly across his chest, his lips in