~Shayla's POV~
The rain hammered the windshield like it had a personal grudge, turning the endless stretch of interstate into a blurry watercolor of taillights and sodium lamps. I shifted in the passenger seat of Tyrell's beat-up rig, my cutoff shorts riding up just enough to catch his eye in the rearview... though he pretended not to notice.
Mom had ditched us two days ago, some bullshit about needing space after their latest blowout. 'Take Shayla across the country to her aunt's,' she'd said over the phone, her voice all fake-sweet like she was handing off a package.
Tyrell... my stepdad for the last three years, just grunted and packed my duffel. Now here we were, two strangers bound by bad blood and a thousand miles of blacktop, the car thick with unspoken crap.
I was nineteen,
