Twisting in my seat, I face Jake. “Did you really just ask me that?”
“You don’t have to answer, but I thought maybe it’d help you to talk about it.” He taps his thumbs against the steering wheel in tune with the music.
“Just like you want to tell me about your parents, right?” I push.
His thumbs begin to tap faster, and he increases our speed. His jaw is clenched, I can see his teeth grinding, by the small flex pulsing in his right cheek.
“I’ll share if you do,” he counters.
“I’ll play. But you go first.”
“After you get that head of yours checked.” He grimaces, pulling into Urgent Care.