Chapter 4 Things Unsaid, Things Unraveled

The morning after the ranch visit, Savannah couldn't sleep.

She laid in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as if the cracked plaster would rearrange itself into an answer. Her body was back in her tiny off-campus apartment, but her mind was still on that dirt road, the scent of oil and hay lingering in her memory, and Jace's words echoing:

> "You're not the only one trying to outrun something."

The way he said it. The weight in his voice. Like he knew something-felt something she'd tried so hard to bury. And worse, the way she almost told him.

She hadn't spoken about Lubbock in years. And she wasn't about to start now.

---

By noon, Savannah was back in the newsroom, tapping furiously at her keyboard, trying to drown her feelings in deadlines. She wasn't just writing anymore-she was avoiding.

Miriam leaned over her desk.

"Hey. Reed. You good?"

Savannah blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

"You're writing like the keyboard owes you money."

Savannah gave a weak laugh.

Miriam folded her arms. "Is this about the Callahan story?"

"No. It's nothing."

"It doesn't feel like nothing."

Savannah minimized the window. "He's just... complicated."

Miriam smirked. "You mean interesting. And maybe you're not used to that."

Savannah wanted to argue, but she couldn't. Instead, she said, "Can I keep covering him?"

"Only if you don't fall for him."

Savannah's face flushed.

Miriam chuckled. "Too late?"

Savannah didn't answer.

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, Jace was having a conversation of his own-with his mother.

Or rather, he was being summoned.

The Callahan estate was everything he hated: marble floors, chandeliers, and hollow conversations.

"Your father's in Houston," his mother said without looking up from her phone. "He wants you to meet with a PR manager before the Southern Regionals."

"I already told him no," Jace replied, leaning against the grand piano. "I don't need spin control."

She sighed dramatically. "You need something, Jace. Your racing may be strong, but your image is slipping. There was a fight last month-"

"I didn't throw the first punch."

"And this new girl."

Jace looked up sharply. "What about her?"

"Savannah Reed. Journalism major. Doesn't exactly fit into our... vision."

"She's not part of your vision," he snapped. "She's part of mine."

His mother raised an eyebrow. "Then I hope she's worth the fallout."

---

Savannah found a single yellow rose tucked in her locker the next day.

There was no note. No name. But she knew exactly who had left it.

Bianca nearly fainted when she saw it. "You've officially crossed into forbidden territory."

"He's not forbidden," Savannah muttered.

"He's practically royalty. And you? You're Jane Eyre with a press badge."

"Thanks?"

Bianca giggled. "Just saying. Don't get burned."

---

That evening, Savannah stepped into the old rail yard on the edge of town-where Jace said he'd be.

The place was abandoned. Rusted train cars, wild grass, and graffiti sprawled across every steel panel. A place forgotten by time. A place nobody would look.

And there he was.

Leaning against the hood of his truck, smoke curling from a cigarette he didn't seem interested in smoking.

"Hey," he said as she approached.

"You smoke now?"

He shrugged. "Helps me think."

"You could try journaling. Works wonders."

He cracked a smile.

"Why here?" she asked.

"I come here when I need quiet. When I don't want to be seen."

"And yet you invited me."

He looked up at her, and his gaze was sharper than the wind off the steel.

"Yeah. I guess I did."

They sat on the tailgate of the truck, the sky bleeding into twilight above them.

Jace passed her a cold soda. "No alcohol. I know your type."

"My type?"

He nodded. "Girls who don't drink at parties. Girls who write things down instead of yelling. Girls who wear armor made of sarcasm and boots."

She took the soda, hiding her smirk. "You sound like you've thought about this."

"I have."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Why do you really race?" she asked.

He didn't answer at first.

Then, "Because it's the only time I'm not afraid."

She blinked. "Of what?"

"Becoming my father. Or worse, becoming no one at all."

That stunned her.

She looked at him-really looked-and saw the cracks beneath the swagger. A boy trying to outrun a legacy. A boy who wasn't sure he was allowed to want something more.

And then he said the words that broke something inside her.

"I used to think adrenaline was the only thing I could feel. Then I met you."

The air froze.

Savannah's breath caught in her throat.

And for once, she didn't run. Didn't speak. Didn't deflect.

She just felt.

Because something in her cracked, too.

---