Denver.
The mornings with Zee always ended too fast. God, I never want her out of my sight for a minute.
She sat beside me in the car, pulling at the strap of her bag, teeth sinking into her lip like she was trying to chew through her thoughts.
She hadn’t said much since breakfast, and that silence had weight. She’d been like that since I told her I was going to let her in on everything that’s been happening.
“You good?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Yeah. Just… school,” she murmured.
A lie.
Her voice was tight, her shoulders wound up. She didn’t know I could read her like a book with pages worn thin. I reached over, brushed her strap back into place, let my fingers linger against her neck.
“Don’t lie to me, Zee. If something’s wrong, I’ll handle it.”
Her head turned just
