KELLAN'S P.O.V

Dallas's quiet was different from Austin's quiet.

At least there, it buzzed with work and people and meetings, the noise could make the murmurs in my head less loud, but tonight, sitting on the porch with my old man, under the full light with the sound of crickets and the tinkle of our glasses, the silence was deafening.

I cut a glance at the man next to me who was on his third bottle of beer. His dark hair was streaked with grey and his eyes were always ...