There’s that part of me I hate, when my next thoughts wander to what I can find out from him while his guard is down. How many secrets can I pry out of those loose lips? His hand reaches across the space separating us, his fingers tangling with mine. “Lucca,” he says, and that single word punctures my lungs, making it hard to drag in a breath. My hand on the steering wheel grips tight, and it’s the only thing that stops this car from flying off the road and landing in the ditch.
