“I didn’t. I hoped.” He stepped closer. “When you tilted your head in the paddock, I recognized the rhythm of your sentences. You use semicolons like weapons.”
“I stopped driving alone,” he said. After the flashbulbs faded, Maya found him behind the podium, peeling off his fireproofs. “I didn’t
He looked her up and down—not with disdain, but with a flicker of recognition that made her stomach drop. “You’re the one who called drivers ‘overpaid toddlers with death wishes.’” Maya found him behind the podium