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“It was. Because you were already planning your first exit.”

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “Last night. I want to come home.” xev bellringer ride

He blinks. Then he grins—that old, crooked grin I fell in love with before I learned to be careful. “It was

But Stillwater was different. Stillwater was where his father died. Where his mother stopped speaking. Where he learned that love was a thing you survived, not something you held. I want to come home

I don’t have a destination address. I have a name. Stillwater. A town so small it doesn’t appear on most maps, tucked into a fold of the mountains where cell service dies and the radio becomes static.

Then the door opens.

I turn the key. The engine roars. And we ride out of Stillwater together—the way we should have done from the start. Would you like a continuation, an alternate ending (darker or more ambiguous), or a version with more explicit scenes in Xev’s signature style?