Page 4

No one follows, nothing is out of the ordinary, but I can’t shake the nerves.

The glow of the city bleeds into the horizon long before the buildings take shape. It feels surreal to have been so close to home, and yet so far away. So much has happened since I was here, and nothing is the same, making everything feel heavier.

Like the three years of silence are going to catch up to me as I pass the next exit.

I take the familiar turn toward the old neighborhood, muscle memory guiding me more than conscious thought. The streets get quieter, lined with houses that all look the same in the dark.

Except one.

Dad’s place. The porch light is off, the driveway empty, and the house looks like it’s been empty since I left. Vines have become overgrown, covering the red bricks, making the house look abandoned.

The guilt hits me harder than I thought, even if it’s well deserved.

A couple houses down, there’s a truck parked along the curb.

Emotion clogs my throat—Lennox.

Relief floods my system. I slow the bike, turning into the driveway and killing the engine. The sudden silence rings in my ears as I pull off my helmet with shaking hands. Before I can even swing my leg off the bike, the front door swings open. Lennox steps out.

For a second, neither of us moves. Three years since I’ve seen him, and somehow, he looks exactly the same—and also so very different. He’s older now, wearing that same hard look Dad did when he was in that position.

“Tatum,” he says, like he’s not quite sure I’m real, as I walk up the sidewalk to the front door.

“Hi.”

As if the word suddenly makes me real, he comes flying down the steps, closing the distance between us in seconds. He pulls me into a bone crushing hug, making it hard for me to pull in air.

Everything freezes before I break completely. My hands fist into the back of his shirt as I press my face into his shoulder, a sob ripping out of me before I can stop it.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. “You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay.”

“I was smart, but it’s so fucking much,” I choke. “Len, I messed up⁠—”

“Not out here,” he says quickly, pulling away from me just enough that I can see the seriousness in his eyes. He scans me over, assessing me as if I am about to disappear out of his arms again. “Inside. Now.”

I nod, wiping my face with the back of my hand as he grabs my backpack off my shoulders and slings it over his own.

“Is your bike good out here?” he asks.

“Yeah. No one followed me, probably couldn’t have if they wanted to.”

“You sure?”

“I checked the whole way, and like I said, most couldn’t if they wanted to.”

He studies me for a second longer, then nods once. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The house smells the same. Old wood. Dust. Faint traces of something that used to be home. Lennox locks the door behind us, checking it twice before turning back to me.

“All right,” he prompts. “Start talking.”

I stand there in the middle of the living room, suddenly unsure where to begin. “I left to be with someone I thought was suppose to be my forever,” I say finally.

His jaw tightens immediately. “Yeah, I figured that.”

“It wasn’t just…someone,” I continue. “He’s—” I swallow. “He runs a club, just like you.”

Lennox goes very still. “What the fuck, Tatum? Which club? Do we know them?”