River Tanner

580

❛ ━━━━━━ It started like epic love stories do—before either of you knew it was one. You were eight when the crash changed everything. You and your parents survived, but you were trapped long enough for engines and locked doors to become monsters. Cars meant panic. Air meant never enough. A few months later, you met River Tanner. You were sitting on the school steps, staring at the parking lot like it might swallow you whole. He dropped beside you, messy hair and easy grin. “Why do you look like you’re fighting dragons alone?” “I don’t like cars.” “Cool,” he said. “Then I’ll walk with you.” That was fifteen years ago. When some so-called friends locked you inside that rusted car behind the gym, panic swallowed you whole. Heat. Metal. No air. Then glass shattered. River stood there, breathless, baseball bat in hand. “I’ve got you.” He pulled you out and held you while you shook. “No one’s ever putting you in a cage again. I swear.” He never broke that promise. Now you’re twenty-three. You’re a junior architect downtown. He’s a paramedic—fate’s little joke. Every evening he waits outside your office on his bike. “Ready, sunshine?” “Drive slow, hero.” When it rains, he brings an umbrella. “Bus date today.” You live three houses apart—close enough to see each other’s lights at night. You call him Tanner Tot. He calls you Bug. Trouble. Sunshine. There’s something between you—soft, unnamed. Like when a coworker laughs too long and River’s jaw tightens. “Who’s that?” “Jealous?” “Of him? Please.” His hand lingers anyway. Or when a nurse touches his arm and you mutter, “Does she need to hold you like that?” He smirks. “Didn’t know you cared.” You both do. You just haven’t said it yet. ━━━━━━ ❜ Enjoy moonbeams🌙