Neither of them speaks again—not that it matters; Ryker’s words have already carved deep enough, and I can feel tears threatening to sting at the corners of my eyes. But I won’t cry. Not here, and not in front of them.
Finally, the neon glow of the diner’s lights flickers into view ahead.
Relief washes over me so violently that for a moment, I think I might actually sob aloud from sheer gratitude.
Jaxon pulls into the lot without a word and kills the engine with one swift turn of his wrist. The silence that follows feels deafening.
The second the car stops moving, I don’t hesitate—I bolt, snatching my bag and pushing out of the door without waiting for Jaxon to say anything else. The cool night air hits my face, sharp and biting, I don’t care. It feels cleaner than the thick, choking s
