Page 8 of Glitched Play

Not that I was counting.

Since then, there’s been no hidden messages inside game chats. No late-night invites to destroy our favorite villain—nothing.

The silence shouldn’t bother me this much. Except she’s been part of my life for almost a decade. Every major moment somehow traces back to her. I depended on her over the past few years to help me relax though product launches, coding spirals, business plans and the night I almost lost my first baby—my company.

She was there for all of it, even if she didn’t know it.

And then suddenly poof, gone.

She was the only person alive who could beat me at my own game and make me laugh while doing it.

A loud pounding rattles the glass office doors.

Dara winces. “Looks like they’re looking for you.”

The doors fly open before I have a chance to tell her to initiate lockdown procedures. Inwardly I chuckle to myself because my brother presses me to be more outgoing.

Parker strides inside wearing gray sweats and a backward Armadillos cap while Annika follows behind him carrying two coffees and significantly more patience.

“You were supposed to be at Dad’s an hour ago,” Parker says. “And you won’t answer your phone.”

“I’m busy.”

Parker looks around the silent office. “Doing what? Plotting world domination?”

“Already did that,” Annika, his fiancé, says mumbling.

I like Annika. Mostly because she doesn’t fill silence just to escape it.

Parker points at the headphones hanging around my neck. “You’ve had those on all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You know normal people would text and say they can’t make it instead of pretending they can’t hear the phone ringing.”

“The headphones are noise canceling.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

Annika walks over and sets one of the coffees on my desk. “Birdie threatened to send J.D. after you if you skipped dinner again.”

“That’s emotional terrorism.”

“That’s family,” Parker corrects.

I unfold the letter again without meaning to.

Parker notices instantly. Unfortunately, all O’Ryan’s operate like mentally unstable FBI profilers.

His eyes narrow. “Oh my God.”

“No,” I counter, knowing what he’s going to say.

“You’re reading one of her letters.”

Annika’s gaze softens slightly. “Still nothing?”

The fact that Annika asks gently instead of curiously makes something in my chest pull tight.