Lucas drove like the road belonged to him. The city lights blurred past, streaks of gold and red flashing through the windshield. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers lightly touching the cut on her neck. She wanted to tell him to slow down, but the grip he had on the wheel made her keep quiet.
At the rate they'd die before they get home.
When he finally pulled into the driveway, he killed the engine and stepped out. Before she could even reach for the door handle, he was already there, opening it for her.
She hesitated.
“I can walk,” she almost said, but something about his face made her decide against it.
Maybe it was the anger still simmering beneath the surface, she might say that and he'll take it as a go to release whatever anger was left on her. She definitely did
