***BLAKE***

I walked back into the house like someone carrying a secret that kept burning through his palms. Quiet and careful. My mother turned first, eyes sharp the way all mothers’ eyes were when something didn’t sit right.

“Blake,” she said, “where’s Logan?”

My throat tightened. I opened my mouth, but nothing honest could come out. Nothing safe either. So I did the only thing that made sense—I lied.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I… couldn’t find him.”

My father ...