Lyra POV
The low hum of Jaxon’s car was underscored by the twang of a rock-country song spilling from the radio, its gritty guitar riffs and steady beat filling the space between us. Jaxon’s fingers tapped the steering wheel in time with the music, a small smile tugging at his lips as he drove, clearly enjoying the tune.
His ease, the way he seemed so at home in this moment, made my heart ache with a mix of warmth and unease. I sat in the passenger seat, the window cracked just enough to let in a cool breeze, the rolling hills and dense forest blurring past as we headed toward his home.
The road stretched endlessly ahead, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the wild, and for a while, we were just two people on a drive, the weight of our mission and our tangled hearts momentarily pushe
