Peeking out from his fingers, he let Cass have his hand to control the car. That made sense to him. Plus, he could put the other hand over his eyes. Seeing less meant less chance of the car suddenly exploding. "It's lees me worried about you, Cass, it's more me worrying about one of the tires popping and us suddenly careening out of control and flipping and you in a wheelchair and hating yourself more and more because you can't do anything you love so that one day in about five years you ask me to kill you because you can't walk anymore." Soren's voice was breathy, just this side of controlled panic. "I know. It's crazy. Don't have to tell me."