Frost continues to remain silent as well, much to my surprise. I was certain he was going to drill and interrogate me to no end from the looks he’d given me back at the mansion when I ran into him.

 

I should really be happy he isn’t saying anything, but for some reason, his silence—or perhaps refusal to talk about the very obvious pink elephant in the room—is somehow more disturbing than any yelling or blackmail he might have had in store for me.

 

The silence continues to stretch on between us, and I can’t stop shifting in my seat at the discomfort I feel. I’m letting a stranger drive me home. I don’t understand how I can feel both so uncomfortable and safe with him at the same time.

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