Chapter 139

• Howard gripped the wheel differently tonight—morning's easy calm evaporated, replaced by a furrowed stare into traffic, jaw set like he chewed on thorns. Charlotte side-eyed him, reading the tension in his knuckles gone white. "Rough day?" she ventured, voice light but probing. He shrugged, eyes fixed ahead. "Nothing." The lie hung thick—she knew it by the clipped edge, the way he dodged her gaze like a guilty kid. She let silence simmer a beat, then twisted toward him with a spark. "I'm starving. Pull over somewhere—let's eat."
• His head snapped her way, brows shooting up in genuine shock, a ghost of amusement cracking the storm. "Outside?" Tires crunched gravel as he eased to the roadside shoulder, city lights smearing past. She nodded, a grin teasing. "Yeah, but skip the fancy spots—no caviar or gold-flecked whatever. Luxury grub sits like lead in my gut." Her joke landed soft; he huffed a half-smile—not full, but real enough to loosen his shoulders a fraction. "Alright," he muttered, shifting gears to merge back in, scanning strips for her vibe.
• She propped her elbow on the sill, wind tousling her hair as neon signs blurred by—burgers, tacos, the usual. Minutes ticked, then her eyes lit on it: a battered food truck hunkered in a dim lot, no line snaking out, just steam wisps from grills inside. A family hustle showed—a wiry dad flipping patties, a mom ladling sauce, and a teen wiping counters, all orbiting the tiny kitchen like planets. Empty, waiting, hopeful. "There!" Charlotte jabbed a finger, excitement bubbling. "Stop—pull in." Howard blinked, the car slowing hesitantly as he eyed the rust-flecked rig under a lone bulb. "Here?" Wonder laced his tone, equal parts baffled and wary, like she'd picked a spaceship over a steakhouse.