The road stretches endlessly ahead of us, a ribbon of black asphalt slicing through the night. Cole drives like the darkness is chasing us, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh as if anchoring me to the present. The dashboard lights cast his face in sharp angles—jaw clenched, eyes alert, body coiled with the kind of tension that never really leaves him. I stare out the window, watching trees blur into shadows, my reflection ghosted in the glass. Every mile we put between us and that cove should make me feel safer. It doesn’t. My phone still feels heavy in my pocket, like it’s burning through fabric and skin. You’re still mine. The words replay again and again, a cruel echo that won’t shut up. “He planned it,” I say suddenly, my voice cracking through the silence. “Every part of it.” Cole’s thumb presses gently into my thigh. “I know.” “I trusted him,” I continue, anger bubbling hot and uncontrollable. “I defended him. I made excuses for him my entire li
آخر تحديث : 2026-01-10 اقرأ المزيد