Page 180 of Silent Shadows

“Seriously, eat something,” Maya says from the doorway, holding out a granola bar she’s half-unwrapped. Smart move. The smell of cinnamon awakens what’s left of my hunger cues.

I take a bite. Everyone watches me with concerned eyes.

“What?” I ask.

Jax gestures at me like he’s analyzing a piece in an art gallery. “You’re like…. Heartbroken. Really heartbroken.”

“Please never say that again,” I reply.

“Listen, we’re not blind,” Taylor says. “We know you and Daisy were into each other in a soulmate-y way. Also, you’ve been staring off into the distance for, like, a solid ten minutes.” She crosses her arms. “You gonna mope or move on, man?”

“Harsh,” Maya mutters.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I was trying to be motivational!” Taylor puts her hands up in surrender.

I look toward the tree line again. Toward the drainage. Toward everything. Toward nothing.

Then I hear myself say, “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

Silence.

Jax blinks. Taylor’s expression goes flat. Maya lowers her coffee.

Owen, who apparently materialized at some point because older brothers are terrifying like that, pauses halfway through opening a protein bar.

“Shouldn’t what?” he asks.

I shrug once. Fake casual. “Keep going.”

The silence deepens.

Taylor studies me for a long second.

“You fucking serious?” she blurts, half shock, half anger.

I laugh once. No humor in it. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

That lands harder than I mean it to. Because now I hear it. The truth.

I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re close. I don’t know if we’re being manipulated, whether by Daisy or the Ridgefield gang or sociopathic Redditors. I don’t know if I’m just a walking case of confirmation bias. I don’t know anything.

The thought settles ugly in my chest.

Jax scratches the back of his neck.

“So… we’re all just gonna pretend you didn’t just say that, right?” Jax winces.

Taylor exhales slowly.

“Get in the truck,” Owen says. Not optional. Big brother voice.

Great. Exactly what I need. An emotional intervention from a federally unemployed, Bigfoot-adjacent Batman.

After Owen grabs our coffee mugs, because that’s the level of fucks he gives, we hop in the truck as the other three try not to stare at us. Silence settles as we drive. Neither of us talks for a while. Which should feel awkward, but doesn’t. Just familiar.

As we drive past pinyon pines and rain-stained red rocks, I sigh the kind of sigh that’s bone-deep. Like something inside me finally got tired of pretending it wasn’t exhausted or hurt or confused.

Owen says nothing. Just drives. One hand loose on the wheel, coffee mug precariously balanced in the cupholder. Morning light burns through the fog, flickering gold across the dash every time we pass through breaks in the trees.