“Something isn’t right,” I voiced, the first of us to say something about Logan’s strange absence.
“He normally texts if he is late by some chance. But we haven’t gotten anything. Have you?” Tate’s casual smile and humor were gone. Concern was clear in his tight jaw and narrowing eyes at the door.
“No, I’ve been checking but nothing. I hope he’s okay. This doesn’t really seem like him.” Especially not after all the time we’d been spending together lately.
A ding echoed inside the bar, and we three all checked our phones to see if Logan had texted us. But it wasn’t our phones that notified of a text.
A gasp, followed by a glass shattering against the concrete floor, had our gazes shifting to Tink behind the bar. Her hand was covering her mouth while her focus was completely on the phone in her other hand.
“Tink, what’s wrong?” Callum was up and moving to her.
Tate and I joined him. Ready to assist if we needed to.
She tried to speak, her mouth opening and then shutting, like she was struggling to say the words. Her hand gently set the phone on the bar and slid it in our direction. We all peered at the screen at the same time. A shiver of unease slid over my skin for what I was about to see. But never would I have thought I’d see the words before me.
Logan: Mom killed herself. I’ve left for Utah. Tell them, please.
Oh God.
