Chapter 9

I lie there for hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that I'm overreacting. It was just a name. Just a coincidence. Dixon doesn't know where I am.

Around ten, I hear his bike roar to life and fade into the distance like always. Tristan's nightly ritual of riding through the countryside to do what I have no clue of. I often wonder what he thinks about during those rides, whether he worries about me the way I worry about him.

Exhausted from the day's ...