The gesture threatens my resolve, almost makes me open the door back up and hug him until that severe line above his brows melts. Instead, I fit my key in the ignition and turn. Nothing happens. The engine tries to start but doesn’t turn over. I meet Cam’s concerned stare through the window, but before I can try again, the door swings open. “It won’t start,” I say and cringe inwardly at my obvious statement. Camden, the sky is blue. Fish live underwater. I have no brain cells left when I’ve been in your presence for this long.
