Chapter 32

• Leila
• Darren raised an eyebrow, but he took the helmet. Stepped closer.
• The sun was high, beating down on his back, so his face was in shadow, but I could see the way his lashes fell as he tilted my head up, gentle. His fingers brushed the hair off my forehead, and I fought the urge to lean into the touch. The helmet settled over my head, snug, and he fumbled with the strap under my chin. "Don't move around," he said, and there was that edge—cool. The kind of tone that would've made the old me snarl, that would've made me yank the helmet off and storm away.