*Isla*

I’m about to turn around and walk out of the restaurant. This can all be over with. I don’t want to put anyone else I love in danger, and if Ben insists on coming along with us, then I’m not going.

My brother hops up out of the booth and grabs my arm. “Come on, Isla. Don’t be like that. You’re sounding like Mom. I’m not a child.”

“You are a child!” I practically shout at him. “You don’t even have your driver’s license!”

“I could ...