Jean's own hands rested in her lap, fingers twisted together as if she could keep herself from trembling. Every bump on the road made her chest tighten. The accusation he'd thrown at her at the police station still echoed in her ears.
Pregnant… with Tyler's child.
It wasn't a question. It was a knife.
Jared and Martha dared not glance at the rearview mirror. The air inside the car was brittle, one wrong word away from shattering.
Jean swallowed, her throat dry. "Logan… How did you…"
"Don't," he said, his voice low, sharp, and final. Not loud, but it silenced her more than any shout could.
She turned her gaze out the opposite window, blinking rapidly to keep her eyes from stinging. Every mile towards home felt like an eternity, yet too short because once they arrived, there would be no escape from this conversation.
Outside, the city lights blurred past. Inside, they were drowning in the dark.
____________________________
The house felt too still.
