The ride to the hospital is exactly as awkward as I expected it to be.
I try to fill the silence with small talk—asking about traffic, commenting on the weather, making stupid jokes that fall flat. But June just stares out the passenger window, her body language screaming leave me alone.
"So I was thinking," I say, because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, "maybe after this we could grab some breakfast. That place you like with the—"
She reaches over and turns up the radio. Loud.
A Taylor Swift song fills the car, drowning out whatever brilliant conversation I was about to attempt.
Message received. Shut the f**k up, Caleb.
I pull into the hospital parking lot and kill the engine. June's already unbuckling her seatbelt before I've even put the car in park.
"You don't have to
