Page 27 of Hardline Torque
Because he could see it too—the life they might build if Victor stayed.Work done side by side.Plans argued over and refined.Fights taken together.Quiet nights like this turning into something steady and real.
And he could see the other future just as clearly.
An empty space where Victor should have been.
All the rehearsed words vanished.
“I’m sorry,” Tane said.
“I’m sorry,” Victor said at the same time.
Any other night, Tane might have laughed.
Tonight, the sound stuck in his chest.
He took a step forward, hands lifting instinctively.“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” he said, voice rough.“I shouldn’t have made it sound like an ultimatum.”
Victor shook his head.“I shouldn’t have talked about leaving like it was already done.I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know,” Tane said.“But it did.”
They stood there, words tumbling out in fits and starts, both of them talking, interrupting, stopping and starting again.Anger bled into honesty.Defensiveness gave way to truth.
“I don’t want to cage you,” Tane said finally.“But I can’t do halfway.Not with my team.Not with someone I care about.”
Victor swallowed.“I don’t know how to stay without planning for when it all goes wrong.”
Tane nodded.“Then plan on how to deal when everything goes wrong but do it with me.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but not hostile.
Victor’s gaze dropped to Tane’s hands.His brow furrowed.“You’re bleeding.”
Tane tried to pull back instinctively.“It’s nothing.”
Victor caught his wrists before he could hide them.“Don’t be an idiot.”
The words were sharp, but his touch was careful.
“Come on,” Victor said.“Let’s go to the camper.”
Inside, Victor took over without discussion, but there was a nervous energy under it now, a restlessness that hadn’t been there before.He moved through the space like he was learning it and claiming it at the same time, opening drawers, checking cupboards, orienting himself.
“You shower,” he said, voice steady but not quite casual, already pulling ingredients from the fridge.“I’ll cook.”
Tane watched him for a second longer than necessary.Victor in his space—their space—felt like a line being crossed, and not in a way that made him want to pull back.In a way that made his chest tighten, sharp and hopeful.
“Okay,” Tane said, because anything else felt like too much.
The shower helped.The hot water grounded him, stripped the last of the rage from his muscles and left only the ache underneath.He leaned one hand against the wall, head bowed, letting himself breathe.
Don’t screw this up.
When he stepped out wrapped in a towel, Victor had changed the feel of the van.The lights were dimmer, warmer.Music played softly now, something instrumental and low.The windows were cracked, letting in cool night air that mixed with the smell of coconut milk, chili, and lime.
Laksa simmered on the stove, steam curling lazily upward.
“You good?”Victor asked, glancing over.
