Drew turned to me where I sat rigid in the passenger seat, my hands clenched in my lap, my stomach churning so hard I was sure I'd be sick if I breathed wrong.
My head felt light, like it wasn't fully attached to my body, like if I leaned forward too fast it might drift away entirely.
"You ready, baby?" he asked again, gentle but steady, like he'd been asking the same question for miles.
I nodded automatically, even though I wasn't. I didn't know what ready was supposed to feel like.
I swallowed down the sour burn creeping up my throat and stared through the windshield at the little house across the street.
