The weight of the silence after practice was really heavy for me. I sat in my car in the Northwood parking lot, watching the snow begin to fall in swirling patterns against the windshield. I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and my fingers hovered over the screen. I texted him a set of coordinates for a gas station ten miles off campus two hours away.
“No Northwood. Just us. Please.”
I waited for twenty minutes. I was about to give up, my heart sinking into my stomach, when the screen lit up.
Jax: Give me ten minutes to grab a jacket.
We drove in my car, leaving the Northwood bubble behind. We didn't speak for the first hour. The only sound was the low hum of the heater.
I kept stealing glances at him. Jax was staring out the passenger window, his reflection ghostly against the
