Hawk's question sat in the room long after he'd gone, and Riot didn't chase it. He just stood there a moment, jaw tight, and reached for his jacket like the conversation had ended. Across the room, Wyatt had gone quiet at the pool table, watching us without pretending not to, and Otis hadn't moved from his corner, coffee cooling untouched in front of him.
"We're leaving," he said.
"Riot."
"Not here." His eyes flicked toward the bar, toward Finn's voice drifting from the back room. "I'll tell you in the truck."
We drove the first ten minutes in a silence so complete I could hear the tires on wet asphalt, the heater ticking, Finn's breathing gone slow in the back seat where he'd fallen asleep against his booster. I watched the clubhouse shrink in the side mirror until the trees swallowed
