Keith
The drive to Grace’s place feels longer than it should. Jace sits beside me in the passenger seat, silent for once, staring out the window. Normally, he’d be cracking jokes, humming some off-key tune, or pestering me about when I last took a break. But not today. Not after everything we talked about last night—about Stevie, and what he suspects.
I glance over at him as we pull up the dirt path leading to the small cabin nestled in the pines. “You good?” I ask, cutting the engine.
He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw ticks once, eyes still on the house. “Yeah,” he says finally, voice low. “Just… thinking.”
Thinking. Right.
That’s what he calls it when his instincts are running circles around him.
Stevie had texted me this morning—short, to the point.
We’re ready to talk. Mom’
