Sam
I leave my dad's office with my chest tight and my hands shaking.
I told him Knox would be okay. I said it with confidence, like I believed it.
But I don't know if I do.
The shop feels too small suddenly. Too crowded with the weight of everything I just heard. I need space. I need air. I need to get away from the walls that are closing in.
I find Knox in the main bay, wiping grease off his hands with a rag. He looks up when he hears my footsteps, and something in my expression must give me away because he drops the rag immediately.
"You okay?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I need to get out of here."
He doesn't ask questions. Just nods and reaches for his jacket hanging on a nearby hook.
"Come on," he says.
The rumble of Knox's bike beneath me is the first thing that makes me fe
