Adam sits back slightly, adjusting his grip on the wire. He puts his feet up against the back of her seat, preparing for when she does something stupid. At some point, they always do something stupid.

He watches out the front window. His cold blue eyes shift between the road ahead and the silhouette of her neck, where he can see her pulse beat rapidly. He catches her gaze in the rearview mirror. He smiles. She looks away.

“I’m disappointed in you, Cassie,” he says flatly.

She says nothing.

“Not the whole strippin’ thing. You do what you gotta do.”

He waits. Nothing.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I’m disappointed, Cassie?”

Why won’t she say anything?

“Turn here,” he says, indicating a dark country road. He wonders if she remembers the old lighthouse at the end.

Once she’s rounded the corner, he drops his feet and leans forward. Face close to her ear, he can smell the pot, her hair, her sweat. He says softly, “You miss me, Cassie? Say you’ve missed me.”