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I stare at the message long enough that Clint shifts beside me.

“What?” he asks.

I don’t answer right away. My thumb hovers over the screen while the words bounce around in my head.

Her issue.

Autumn hasn’t said a damn thing about an issue.

Not to me… not to any of us.

I type back before I can think too hard.

Me- What issue?

The dots pop up.

Disappear.

Comes back.

Hunter- Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it handled. You’ve done enough.

My fingers tighten around the phone.

You’ve done enough.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I type again, slower this time, jaw working hard enough it almost aches.

Me- Hunter. She hasn’t told us anything. What issue?

This time the reply takes longer, and the longer it takes, the more every piece I didn’t want to look at starts sliding into place. The scent, the exhaustion, the way her skin looked too flushed this morning, and her snapping over nothing, then looking like she regretted it.

My phone buzzes again.

Hunter- Don’t push her. Just tell her I’m okay. Don’t tell my sister about the old lady. I’ll be in touch when I can.

I read it twice.

Tripp comes closer. “Everything okay?”

“No.”

Clint’s gaze sharpens and I pass him the phone since explaining it feels like too much. While he reads, I look toward the house again. The back door swings open before I can stop myself from watching for it, and Autumn steps outside with a basket balanced against her hip, blonde hair shoved up messily, muttering something under her breath as she heads toward the porch.

She’s walking like she’s fine.

Halfway across the yard, she pauses with one hand pressing briefly to her stomach. It’s quick. The kind of thing I might’ve missed before if I hadn’t been paying attention. Then she keeps moving like nothing happened.

Something tightens low in my chest.

Clint hands the phone back without saying anything for a second.

Tripp reads over his shoulder and frowns. “What issue?”

“Exactly,” I mutter.