Chapter 7: Sparks & Secrets

Saturday afternoon found them somewhere they weren't supposed to be.

The Bennett estate had acres of land behind the main house—woods that were technically private property, but Kian had found a spot tucked deep enough to feel like its own world. He texted Vale the coordinates, followed by two words: "Come alone."

So she did.

She wore jeans, boots, and a long cardigan the color of dusk. No silver jewelry today. Just her.

Kian was already there, sitting on a fallen log beside a fire pit he'd half-assembled with stones and stubborn determination.

"No one else knows about this place," he said as she approached.

Vale arched a brow. "Am I supposed to feel honored?"

"Absolutely."

She gave a small smile and sat beside him, knees brushing. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was careful. Comfortable.

Kian poked at the pit with a stick, then said, "My dad doesn't know I still come out here. It's not… Bennett enough."

Vale laughed softly. "What is 'Bennett enough'?"

"Buttoned shirts. Cold handshakes. Harvard or nothing."

She turned to him. "You don't seem like that."

"I'm not. Which is the problem."

A beat passed. Vale could see it—under the easy charm, the boy who wanted so badly to breathe without being measured.

"I used to sneak out here when my parents fought," he added. "Tried building a treehouse once. Gave up halfway through."

Vale looked up, spotting half-nailed boards clinging to a crooked oak branch.

He grinned sheepishly. "I was eight."

"It's terrible craftsmanship."

"Thanks for your support."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Anytime."

The wind shifted. A spark from the fire cracked and flared, like the tension between them suddenly decided to announce itself.

Kian looked at her. Not the way people at school did, or the way boys usually looked at her with assumptions in their eyes. He looked like he wanted to understand.

And Vale felt herself caving.

"There's something about you," he said, voice low. "Like you're always half a step away from disappearing."

She stared into the flames. "Maybe I am."

"Why?"

"Because when people really see me," she said, "they don't stay."

Kian's jaw tightened. "That's their mistake."

She shook her head. "No. It's mine. I don't make it easy."

"Maybe I like difficult."

Vale turned to him, eyes catching the firelight. "You don't even know me."

"Then let me."

The words hung in the air like a dare.

And she wanted to take it—wanted to believe that maybe this time, someone wouldn't flinch when the truth came out. Not about her family. Not about her secrets.

Not about the girl who knew how to race, to fight, to hack, to vanish if she had to.

She leaned in just a little. Close enough to feel the electricity sparking between them. But she didn't cross the line.

Yet.

Instead, she said quietly, "I know a place where you can see the city lights race past you at 100 miles an hour."

Kian blinked. "Are you… inviting me to do something illegal?"

"I'm inviting you to do something unforgettable."

He stared at her like she was his favorite unsolved puzzle.

And for the first time in a long time, Vale didn't feel like running.