MELISSA’S POV

The ride home was quiet, painfully quiet.

Not the comfortable kind, where you could sink into the silence and let it cradle you like a soft blanket.

No.

This was the kind that felt like you were both sitting on opposite ends of a seesaw, waiting for one of you to make the first move—only no one did.

I sat with my arms crossed, staring out the window at the gray sky, pretending to be fascinated by the raindrops starting to collect on the glass. The steady thrum of the ...