Cruz leans against the refrigerator, phone in hand, thumb scrolling mechanically. Rafe stands at the counter, knuckles white around a coffee mug, while Bishop paces the far end of the kitchen, each footstep landing with military precision.
My shoulder throbs as I cross the room, the brief warmth from Gage’s bedroom evaporating with each step. The tile floor might as well be concrete.
I head straight for Lola and Beck on the other side of the island. “Hey, you guys okay?”
“Here.” Lola shoves an iced coffee into my hand. She rolls her neck, wincing. “Coco needs a new couch. My spine feels like a fucking accordion.”
“Thanks.” The plastic cup sweats against my palm. “Coffee run already? Sun’s barely up.”
The first sip hits—caramel and vanilla cutting through bitter espresso. I close my eyes for half a second.
Lola jerks her thumb to the right. “Not me. Him.”
My brother hunches over his laptop, shoulders curved forward, fingers flying across the keyboard. He mutters numbers under his breath, a string of code I can’t follow.
“Beck?”
“Yeah?” The word floats over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the screen.
I press my palm against his back, feeling the knots of tension beneath his t-shirt. “Hey,” I murmur, leaning close enough that only he can hear me. “You okay? Did you sleep?”
He looks up, and something twists in my chest. Dark half-moons shadow his eyes. His hair stands in jagged tufts where his fingers have raked through it repeatedly— the same nervous habit he’s had since he was seven, sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, struggling through math homework.
“I’m fine. Bishop told me to monitor the chips last night, but it’s nearly impossible to do that because the system we designed made it that way to protect us, so now?—”
“Whoa. Slow down.” I tap the desk beside his laptop, where two empty iced coffee cups form a small graveyard of plastic and condensation. “How many of these have you had?”
He exhales, shoulders dropping an inch. “Did you get yours? I grabbed some for you and Lola because I wasn’t sure what Coco has, and I thought—” His hand drifts up, catching a chunk of hair between his fingers, twisting until his scalp whitens. “Maybe I should’ve gotten some for everyone? I didn’t think?—”
Lola leans close, her breath warm against my ear. “Yeah. He’s been like this all night. I’m honestly surprised I slept at all, considering he was muttering and tapping on his keys two feet away from me all night.”
“Shit.”
“Pretty much.” She nods slowly, taking a long sip from her cup. “Good coffee, though.”
I press my palm against Beck’s shoulder, feeling the wire-tight tension beneath his t-shirt. “After this meeting, you’re going home to crash. You need sleep, yeah?”
He shrugs, eyes locked on his screen. “I feel fine but whatever.”
I scan the kitchen. Gage’s easy bedroom smile has vanished, replaced by tight lines around his mouth and a muscle jumping in his jaw. Cruz leans against the refrigerator at an angle, favoring one side. Rafe stands perfectly still, only his eyes moving, tracking everyone. Bishop’s footsteps click against the tile in that measured cadence.
Coco’s absence feels tangible.
“Garage,” Bishop says, already moving toward the sliding glass door.
I hang back while Beck gathers his laptop, the cords tangling as he shoves them into his bag with trembling fingers. Lola falls into step beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Where’s Ma?” Gage asks, pausing in the doorway. His fingers drum against the frame, tapping out a fast rhythm.
“Out.” Bishop doesn’t turn around.
Lola looks at me, eyebrows arch high, her lips pressing into a thin line.Why the fuck isn’t she here?
I mirror her expression, a silent conversation passing between us.It’s strange, right?
She nods twice, short and sharp.Yes, it absolutely is.
In the garage, Beck drops his bag onto the table with a thud that echoes off the concrete walls. His fingers fly across the keys before the laptop screen even brightens.
