: M
t of the driveway befor
ld leather of the steering wheel felt like ice against my palms. I leaned my forehead aga
ye
therapist, his cheerleader, and his safety net. And in less than seventy-two hours, less time than it ta
salt to dry on my cheeks fro
ame the next one. And the next. I couldn't catch my breath. The air in the car felt like it was being sucked o
Exhale. There'
Tap
look up. I couldn't. I was drowning in
flared, blindingly bright, and the scent o
Look a
ice was a low,
x-year-old delusion finally shattering into a million pieces. I didn't want him
commanded, his voic
hin and forcing my head up. He was crouching in the dirt of the par
nd sympathetic; he sounded like a commander o
anding. I tried to follow, my bre
three, four. Now out
nd he didn't loosen his grip on my jaw. He was grounding me, tethe
oxygen returned, though it tasted bitt
away a tear with a roughness that felt more ho
g like I'd swallowed glass. "I'm sorry
er girl," Cade said.
e shame fre
s darkening. "You looked at those photos,
resh sob threatenin
heer height of him blocking out the porch li
m fine. I'm
conds away from a relapse." He reached in, unbuckling my seatbelt with a decisiv
ile. He led me away from my car and toward the blacked-out beast of a truck park
e," he said, slamming the
a predatory growl. He pulled out of the driveway, the Blackwood es
I asked, my voic
s profile sharp against the passing streetlights. "A
don't scream
" He reached over, his hand briefly covering mine on the center console. His touch was steady, warm, and utterly cert
fe, I wasn't worried about what Ethan would think. I
I was on a fault line. But as the truck sped toward the dar
son in the world who made me feel
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