By the time we’re both inside the cab, the rain lashes around us like a monsoon, striking the truck’s hood so hard that it kicks up a fine mist. The steady pounding matches the thudding of my heart. Riley sits behind the wheel, an arm’s length from me and so far away, his hands on his thighs as he stares out into the storm. I want to say something, apologize again, but I’ve already said too much. My hands twist in the hem of my T-shirt, the damp fabric clammy against my skin. I want to go home.
“Todd.” I close my eyes at Riley’s voice, so damn familiar. I wish I had never met him, had never known someone like him could exist. I don’t answer when he says my name again because I don’t trust myself to speak. Finally he turns to me—I see him from the corner of my eye, I still can’t look his w
