The drive back to the Clara farmhouse took forty minutes.

Ethan kept his hands clamped on the steering wheel the whole way.

He never switched on the radio.

My wet clothes stuck to my skin and soaked into the leather of his passenger seat.

My teeth chattered softly in the silence.

Ethan had the heat cranked all the way up, blowing hot, dry air across the windshield.

We went inside without a word.

Ethan brought me three thick towels from the hall closet and shut the guest room door behind him.