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Briggs pulls into the empty lot beside the old drive-in instead of our place. Gravel crunches beneath the tires before the engine cuts off completely.

Outside, fog drifts across the edge of the trees while rain taps steadily against the truck roof.

Nobody moves immediately.

Then Briggs leans back against the seat. “Alright. What’s going on?”

“I need advice,” I say.

That gets both their attention, because I don’t ask for advice. I research. Analyze. Anticipate. Quietly develop contingency plans for situations before most people realize they exist.

Briggs actually turns slightly in his seat. “Jeez. It’s serious.”

Torin studies me more carefully now. “This about Laurel?”

Torin goes straight to the point, which isn’t remotely surprising.

I exhale once before answering. “Yes.”

Briggs makes a thoughtful sound in his throat, a man watching a bridge collapse exactly the way engineers predicted.

“Okay,” he says carefully. “How serious?”

I stare at the dark outline of the drive-in screen through the rain-soaked window.

Then answer honestly. “Serious enough that it’s becoming a problem.”

Silence.

Torin stops tapping the lighter.

Briggs’s brows lift slightly.

I keep talking before either of them can interrupt.

“I know who she is,” I say. “I know this is Ben’s sister. I know everything happening with Maggie and Lucy already complicates things enough. But I…” My jaw tightens briefly. “I can’t seem to stop.”

Saying it aloud makes the whole situation feel more real than I’d prefer.

Across from me, Briggs rests one meaty forearm against the steering wheel. “Stop what exactly?”

Wanting her. Thinking about her. Watching for signs she’s overwhelmed before she notices herself. Wondering whether she’s eaten lunch. Whether she slept. Whether she’s currently pacing somewhere upstairs rereading Maggie’s note while Lucy dreams down the hall.

Instead I settle on, “Feeling things I probably shouldn’t.”

Torin looks away first.

Interesting.

Briggs notices it too because his eyes narrow slightly before shifting between us.

Then he says, “Ash.”

He says my name quietly enough that Torin finally turns his gaze away from the windshield and onto him instead.

I straighten slightly. “What?”

Briggs rubs once at his jaw, a sign he’s already irritated by whatever realization just landed on him. “How long have you felt that way?”