He adjusts the rearview mirror and scowls at the road ahead. We drive in silence, and then I feel Lorenzo’s hand creep into my lap and take hold of mine. “No one’s ever said that to me before. I didn’t grow up in a house where people just said that shit to each other.” “Well, I mean it. I love you, Lorenzo.” He squeezes my hand tighter but his throat seems locked up tight. I don’t need him to say anything back. I just need him to believe me.
