Julian drove like a man possessed.
The rain hammered the windshield so hard the wipers could barely keep up. His phone sat in the cup holder, screen lighting up again and again with the same message:
Call failed.
He tried again.
And again.
“Kya, pick up,” he muttered, gripping the wheel tighter.
Straight to voicemail. His chest tightened. Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
He dialed again.
A horn blared.
Julian jerked the wheel just in time to avoid sideswiping a sedan.
The other driver rolled down his window, shouting, “Watch where you’re going, i***t!”
Julian lowered his window halfway, rain splashing inside.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice strained. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
The man blinked, thrown off by the apology, then drove off with a muttered curse.
Julian closed
