After a few failed attempts, Lia calls for Yan, who joins them. She motions at the bench, probably inviting him to sit, but he shakes his head once. So she stands up, grabs him by the hand, and drags him to the seat beside her. Yan’s alert gaze meets mine through the window, and I’m about ready to go out there and beat him to a pulp. I know it’s not his fault, that she did it, but my brain can’t look past her hand on his. Her hand is on his. As if sensing my murderous plans, Yan swiftly pulls away, but that doesn’t extinguish the fire that’s burning holes in my chest. Staring him down, I
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