I sat in the trucks bench seat beside Branson, my mind too cluttered to make effective small talk. He rode with me in that silence, both of us trying to digest the past week of our lives.
"Are you mad I came and got ya?" He finally asked after some time.
"No," I shot back, a ready smile for him right under the radar. "No, I wasn't mad. I'm just disappointed in a lot of things right now." I tried to shrug it off, hoping my emotions wouldn't give me away.
He reached his hand across the seat, his palm open. I looked at it, wondering if touching him would send the wrong message. Branson was too pure a soul, I had decided, and I didn't want to do or say anything out of turn that may end up hurting him. Carefully, cautiously, I placed my hand over the top of his, surprised when his fingers cl
