Rhett’s hand was still on my wrist when we left the bookstore, his grip steady, grounding me against the panic clawing at my throat. The night air hit like cold water, shocking and sharp, but it didn’t wash away the heat still humming under my skin from the kiss. Sweat slicked my palms, my heart was still sprinting, and my head felt like it might split from the force of thinking — thinking fast, thinking worst-case scenarios, thinking everything Angela could do now that she had gotten the ...