Lucas POV
I should’ve never come here.
The second Isabella climbed into my truck, I knew I’d made a mistake. A stupid one. A reckless one. One I’d spend the next week regretting.
But when she sent that message—’I know something about your mother’—my stomach dropped, and every instinct I had tightened like wire. I hated when people brought up my mother. Hated it. It was the one line you didn’t cross with me. The one string you didn’t pull unless you wanted something to snap.
So I came.
Now I was sitting in the driver’s seat, hands locked on the steering wheel, engine off, windows rolled up, and Isabella sitting beside me like a lit match I’d been dumb enough to pick up.
The air felt thick. Still. Too quiet.
I didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Not without feeling my blood pressure spike.
