Mason told me to grab my things and meet him in the car because I was done working for the day.
I opened my mouth to tell him it was fine and I could finish my shift, but the look on his face killed the words before they could even leave my mouth.
So I quickly changed out of my uniform, packed my things, and met him outside. I had barely settled into the passenger seat before Mason drove off.
His grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles had gone pale. He wasn’t speeding recklessly exactly, but he was driving fast enough to make me nervous. I glanced at him a few times, but his expression stopped me from complaining.
At one point, when it felt like the speed increased again, I finally swallowed hard and decided speaking up was better than dying in a car accident. “Mason, ple
