Alex woke to the sound of voices downstairs.
For a second the room felt safe—Kevin’s steady breathing beside him, the faint smell of the detergent on the borrowed sweatpants, the soft gray light through the blinds. Then the voices sharpened enough to recognize.
Troy.
Paxton.
Alex’s stomach dropped.
He sat up too fast. The mattress shifted. Kevin stirred, eyes blinking open, still heavy with sleep.
“What—”
“They’re downstairs.” Alex’s voice came out low and tight. “Both of them.”
Kevin pushed himself up on one elbow. The worry returned to his face instantly. “He knows.”
“He always knows.” Alex swung his legs over the side of the bed. His hands felt cold. “You should go. Out the side door before—”
“No.” Kevin was already reaching for his shirt. “I’m not sneaking out like I did some
