The condensation cools my grip just as something blonde flashes in my peripheral. Blake leans in, presses a quick kiss to my brother’s cheek, and says, “I’m gonna go check on Vivienne.”
We watch her disappear down the hall and toward their guest room. Which, at this point, is basically Vivienne’s. I think Elain is already in bed. If not, I’m sure she’ll be joining them soon.
I didn’t plan on staying after dropping them off. Wesley’s the one that insisted I come in. I said no at first because I’m still pissed at my wife’s sister–reallyfucking pissed. Because whether she meant to or not, she put Whitney in a situation she never should’ve been in. And while I know Vivienne’s hurting too, she’s old enough to know better and old enough to respect boundaries. Especially Whitney’s.
But I don’t have it in me to fight tonight—not with her, not on Whitney’s behalf. It’s not even my fight, really. It’s theirs. And after everything that’s happened, the thought of going homefeels heavier than usual. I know Whitney’s anger wasn’t meant for me. Whitney needs time to sit with things before she can talk them through. It’s just how she is.Iknow that. But that doesn’t mean her words don’t sting.
I wasn’t pretending to give a damn. Idogive a damn.That’s the problem.
Wesley takes a sip of his beer and raps his knuckles against the counter. “You think they’ll ever work through their shit?” He’s not just talking about Whitney and her mom. His eyes flick toward the hall where Blake disappeared, and Vivienne hides away.
I shrug. “Eventually.”
God, I hope so. I know it’s different for them, but I can’t imagine my brother and I never speaking again. Regardless of what happens or what words we exchange, I know I’ll have his back until we’re both six feet under. And I have zero doubt the feeling is mutual. We fall into a comfortable silence. A few moments pass. Quiet enough that I hear the hum of the fridge. The tick of a clock. The clang of a beer bottle. Then Wes tilts his head. “What the hell is that?”
My brows furrow in confusion when he sets his drink down and pushes off the counter to step toward the window. I follow him, curiosity getting the better of me.
And then I see it?—
Bright orange flames, high and angry, cutting through the darkening sky above the trees. Flickering. Roaring. A heavy sense of fear fills my chest. Because it’s close.Tooclose. “Shit,” my brother gasps.
They’re coming from the direction of home.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
WHITNEY
“Everything okay?”Ana asks me. Brinley is propped on one hip, her Winnie the Pooh bear tucked into her chest. I nod, giving my mother-in-law something between a smile or a grimace. I hope it looks more like a smile. Or that maybe she’ll bunch my off-kilter demeanor in with our recent talk. Can she see the sweat growing on my skin and the nausea churning in my stomach? “I just need to make a call.”
It must be convincing enough because Ana just gives me a gentle smile in return. “I’ll go ahead and get her bath started,” she pinches the tip of Brinley’s nose. My daughter giggles, the sound lightening my mood for a fraction of a second. I squeeze her shoulder as they brush past me, “Thanks, Ana.”
I don’t bother grabbing my winter coat as they waltz off to get cleaned up. I’m surprised I even manage to slip on my boots and step onto the porch. My body feels mechanical—like it’s moving on instinct and memory rather than on willingness. Once I finally dial Wyatt’s number with a shaky hand, the heart thundering against my ribcage becomes unbearable. What will he say? Will he rush home? Tell me to hang up and call the cops? I know Ishouldbe calling the sheriff but… I needhimfirst.
The phone rings. And rings, and rings, and rings. “Come on, Wyatt,” I mutter to no one but myself.
Eventually it falls into his familiar voicemail. I try one more time, but it’s useless. I can’t say I blame him. I wouldn't want to talk to me either. I sigh, shoving my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. My eyes instinctively trail my hot breath as it clouds the cold air. I blink when they snag on a set of footprints.
Just one set. It starts right where the snow does—at the top of the steps. Then it wraps around to the left. All the way to the back of the house. Wyatt and the rest of them had to have left over an hour ago. There shouldn’t be any footprints left. And with the way this snow has been coming down…
I shake my head. My mind must be playing tricks on me. Just to ease my tight chest and uneasy stomach, I yank my phone out again and open up the camera app Wyatt made me download. My lips turn down when all I see is a black screen with bright red letters.
Error.
No connection.
Dread settles heavy in my chest. Fast. Sharp. My instincts roar to life and singwrong, wrong, wrong. Something iswrong.
I bust back through the front door, not bothering to close it in my pursuit to find Ana and Brinley. Benji lets out an excited bark, nails skidding across the floor as he follows me. I rip Brinley’s winter coat off the front rack and scoop down to grab shoes from the walk-in mat without looking.
I quickly find them in the bathroom. The water is running, but thankfully Brinley is still fully dressed as Ana lays out her pajamas.
Ana startles when I burst in. “We need to go,” I snap. “Now.” My words are breathless and urgent as I reach around her and slam down the faucet on the tub. Ana begins shaking her head. “What are you-”
“Ana.” I cut her off, shoving the shoes into her hand and crouching to yank Brinley’s coat on. “Please. We need to go.”
Ana continues mumbling, her face red with confusion and nerves. I don't pay her anymore mind as she slips on her shoes. “I’m calling Wyatt again,” I mutter to myself, pressing the phone to my ear. My hands shake around the device, panic making it nearly impossible to focus.
My stomach plummets when ring after ring fills my ear. “Pick up your fucking phone, Wyatt!”
