MACEY
Damien looked at me in a way that made my stomach twist. There was something unreadable in his eyes, heavy and cautious, and it made me tense.
“I had to deal with something,” he said finally, his voice low.
“Of course,” I replied automatically, not wanting to argue. My voice was flat, too flat, like I was trying to convince myself as much as him.
I didn’t say anything else, even though every nerve in my body wanted to scream at him to tell me what was going on. I turned and walked outside, expecting him to follow me to the car.
He did, silently opening the driver’s side door. I slid in and buckled my seatbelt, trying not to think about the knot twisting in my chest. He went around to the other side and got in behind the wheel.
The air between us was heavy. Thick. Awkward
