The silence between Liam and me was biting—sharp like cold air against raw skin. Maybe he felt it too. Or maybe it was just me, swallowing the lump in my throat, pretending the ache in my chest wasn't there.
I didn’t glance at him. Not once. I kept my head leaned against the window, eyes locked on the passing streets blurring by. My fingers gripped the edge of my seat, nails digging into the leather. Anything to stop myself from looking at him.
But I could feel it—his eyes on me. Every now and then, he’d steal a glance. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel. Tense. Like he was gripping the wheel just to stop himself from reaching for me.
Still, I said nothing.
Still, he didn’t speak either.
The car was too quiet for two people so loud in each other's lives.
We got home,
