22FeliciaHe just stole that man’s truck, I think, gazing across at Lance. It’s not just that, either. He grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn bone-white. He mutters under his breath fiercely, and I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. “Bear . . . kill the bastards . . . they’ll pay for this . . . keep her safe . . .”
It’s the first time since I met him I’ve seen him like this, as though he’s on the verge of losing control.
“Lance,” I say, as we trundle up the hill. “Lance, you need to calm down.”
He’s driving too fast and the suspension on the truck is shoddy. There are no seatbelts and we bump up and down as though just waiting for the chance to go flying through the window.
“Lance,” I say, and he glances across at me.
“Oh,” he breathes, relaxing his hands, and take
