ELENA
“What the hell, Drake?” I yell as I grab the door and exit the car, clutching my knees to try and regain a regular breathing rhythm. Why did he almost run us over? Could it be because of what I said?
The second chance mates? There’s no way he would have reacted like that—he should already know the process is underway. The divorce papers stacked on his desk? Unless he truly didn’t see them.
“Get in the car, we are going to be late,” Rosa snaps.
I glance at her, unfazed by her words. Didn’t she see her life flash before her eyes? Didn’t she feel the fear that ransacked our entire frames when we almost collided with the truck?
Drake remains poised, his hands firmly gripping the leather like he didn’t just almost kill us.
“You almost killed us,” I say, still finding it difficult to
