Honestly, I’m grateful for his hand on my leg, my arm, my hair. It keeps me grounded. Keeps me from losing myself to the memories and the shock and desperation that I feel.
I can’t see Priest’s face where he sits in the front passenger seat, but I can tell he’s pissed off. His body is tense, muscles so tight they must be screaming. Every so often, he clenches and unclenches his hand, and when I look closely as we pass under a street light, I can tell his fingers are shaking.
That’s definitely unusual for him, and he must be really pissed off to be showing it this much.
His agitation only seems to grow as we cross into the guys’ neighborhood, driving down the winding road that leads to their house. As soon as we pull into the driveway and Gage kills the engine, Priest is out of the car.
I half expect him to stalk toward the house and go inside to calm himself down, but instead, he wrenches open Ash’s door and jerks his head at him to get out.
Ash does, and if he thinks Priest is acting weird, he doesn’t say so. He just gets out of the way.
Priest’s eyes burn as he grabs my arm and drags me across the back seat and out of the car, and I’m too stunned to resist.