Callie
The drive home felt longer than usual.
Grayson’s car still smelled like him—clean, smoky, a hint of pine. He’d given me the keys a week ago, saying I needed to drive again.
“You are not fragile, Callie. Stop acting like you are.”
I told him I wasn’t ready.
He said, “Then you drive with me until you are.”
Somehow, I’d done more than that.
Now the engine hummed softly, matching the beat of my heart. I wasn’t sure if I was proud of myself… or terrified of how easily I was starting to trust him.
Every turn reminded me of his hand guiding mine days ago. He’d told me to breathe, to trust the car, to trust myself. Maybe that is what he’d been teaching me all along.
The mall lights faded in the mirror. Trees blurred past. The closer I got to the Carter house, the harder my heart po
