CHAPTER FORTY
No more playing defense
She doesn’t cry. Not a single tear falls.
She just stares out the passenger window like the world outside doesn’t exist. Like she’s somewhere far away or maybe nowhere at all.
I don’t talk. Not yet. I just drive.
We end up at the overlook, the one that gives a clean view of the town, houses, trees, rooftops melting into the horizon. Amber says nothing the entire ride, and when I finally kill the engine, the silence sits between us like fog.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she says softly, without looking at me.
I grip the wheel tighter. “I know.”
“She’s not going to stop,” she adds after a moment. “Valentina. She’s made it her life’s mission to tear me apart, piece by piece.”
I look at her now, really look. And I don’t see the scared, shaken girl f
