Isla's POV
For the fifth time, I blew into the napkin, my nose burning. And for the fifth time, Liam muttered another “sorry,” like it was somehow his fault I had gotten this way.
I glanced sideways at him, slouched awkwardly in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel like the apology might’ve been a prayer he owed.
“Stop apologizing,” I said, my voice half stuffed. “You didn’t summon winter down on me.”
He shifted, clearing his throat, but didn’t answer.
My head throbbed with the dull ache of everything, of the stupid cold, of the way my chest still heaved from that argument, of Killian standing at the door hearing my conversation with Daphne.
I turned my face toward the window, napkin crumpled tight in my fist.
I hated how weak I must’ve looked. Sick, sniffling, eyes stil
