The way he saysplacementmakes it sound like a cage with softer walls.
Scoffing under my breath, I stare out the window.
“The courts are a joke,” I mutter. “They don’t care about people. They care about paperwork and appearances.”
Silence settles again, heavier this time.
“Well,” he says after a beat, his voice cooler now, “you’re lucky.”
The word sinks before I can stop it.
“Not everyone gets the luxury of their parent ending it themselves.”
The car suddenly feels smaller.
“How did you know about that?” I ask, my voice lower, my head turning slowly toward him.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“Steph and Jacob talked on the drive to Spokehaven,” he says at last. “They filled in the blanks.”
That doesn’t make sense.
My parents don’t talk about my bio mom like that. Not openly. Not casually. Not with someone they just brought into the family.
A cold unease creeps into my chest.
“Why would they-”
Silas leans forward slightly, peering down the road ahead.
“Jesus,” he mutters, the word cutting off whatever I was about to say.
My attention shifts forward as we turn the corner.
The street is in chaos.
Cars are crammed along both sides of the road, headlights and taillights glowing in messy clusters. Music bleeds into the night before we even reach the house, bass thudding hard enough to vibrate faintly through the windshield. The place at the end of the block isn’t just lit up, it’s blazing. Colored lights flash from the backyard, silhouettes moving across the lawn and porch in uneven waves.
So much for a quiet study session.
“Some small study session.” Silas sighs.
As we roll through the entrance of the gated community, it only gets worse. Kadin’s house is surrounded. Cars packed into every available stretch of curb. A handful of people stumble across the lawn with red solo cups in their hands, laughing too loudly. Someone sprints past the driveway, soaked from head to toe.
There’s a pool.
Of course there’s a pool.
Scanning the driveway until I spot Cheyenne’s car, it’s parked crookedly near the side of the house, utterly empty. No Maria either. Which means they’re already inside, probably halfway into whatever this turned into.
The music pulses through my chest as Silas slows the car.
“Park away from the house,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to get boxed in. Or hit.”
He glances at me then, one hand still steady on the wheel. His tongue drags slowly over one of his canines in a way that’s entirely unnecessary.
“You don’t want to be seen with me,” he says evenly. “You can just say that.”
