20
I stay konked out and comfortable until sunlight blazes onto my closed eyes. I flip my arm over my face, block out the brightness, and try to get comfy again. It isn’t easy. I’m sprawled across the front seat of the Fiat with my legs jammed onto the dashboard and my head smooshed against the passenger-side door. Huh. My sleepy brain tries to process all this. How is Knox is driving, exactly? My left leg uses the steering wheel as a footrest.
My eyes flutter open. We definitely aren’t driving anymore. Knox isn’t even in the car. I scrub my hands over my face. Where am I again? The last thing I remember, Knox and I were driving away from the Boucle-Roux farm and into the night. I must have slept longer than I thought.
Craning my totally cramped-up neck, I see that Knox has parked us be
