24
Red, yellow, and green streetlights flicked past Agathe’s rain-splattered window, the multi-colored flashes adding to the aggravated shouts stuck on loop in her head. Damn Luke. Damn him and his big mouth.
She stared ahead, refusing to look at him, refusing to fall apart in his presence. At least, not again. He’d wielded his desires like some kind of weapon, as if he had a natural right to stoke any kind of fire in her. Well, screw him. He doesn’t. And so what if he wanted marriage and kids? She’d had both and wanted neither.
Why am I so angry?
The question startled her into looking at him, into forgetting she shouldn’t be looking at all. His attention stayed ahead, fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel, lips squeezed so tight they blanched.
He’d crossed a line, and he k
