“Fine,” I mutter. “Just pick a burger place.” Gentry turns to Karson with a smug grin. “There, problem solved. We’ll grab Wendy’s.” “I don’t like their fries,” I say, and I regret even asking for food at this point because Karson looks as if his head might explode. The exit is quickly approaching, and Karson makes no indication that he plans to turn off. Golden arches gleam in the distance. “McDonald’s!” I shout before it’s too late. He flicks on the turn signal and whips the SUV off the interstate. “Was that so fucking hard?”
