When I didn’t answer, Cross rested his forehead to mine. “I need to talk to your brother. Trust me?”

He asked me to trust him.

“Okay.”

I was trusting him.

He reached up, cupping the side of my face for a moment, before he pulled himself away. The bag of clothes went with him. A few minutes later, now dressed, I headed out for the kitchen. The upstairs light was on, so I was guessing Zellman was up there. Jordan was staring through the back window, looking out over the yard with a bottle of water in hand.

He took a sip, asking a question as I passed him by for my own water, “Why’s Cross burning clothes?”

I grabbed a bottle and went to stand next to him.

The silhouette of Cross was clearly visible. He was feeding one piece of clothing into the bonfire after another. He looked calm and patient. There was also an air rippling off of him. An air that I felt inside of me, spreading through every inch of my body, setting my hairs upright, but not in fear. In awareness. That was our leader, the same guy who had stepped forward when we were about to face off against Alex Ryerson in the Roussou school’s parking lot and who needed an entire group of guys to wrestle him down at the police station when I was arrested. Seeing him incinerating those clothes was a sober enough moment that Jordan was picking up on it.

I didn’t answer.

Jordan slid his eyes sideways to me, tipping his bottle back for another drag. “That have something to do with where you and he went after you dropped us off? Why Cross had a ski mask in the seat next to him?”

Again. There was no answer.

But Jordan was my crew. I patted his shoulder and said what I could, “Let’s wait until he comes in. He has to make a call.”

Jordan watched me, and I was picking up the same vibes that Cross was giving out. Patience and calm. He nodded, going back to taking a drink from his water. “Okay, then.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

CROSS

Channing picked up after the first ring. “Is Bren okay?”

All the clothes were burned. Maybe Bren was right and I was overreacting. I’d rather be safe than sorry, but I still needed to get this call over with. And I was tired. I was so tired. I turned for the house, going to the patio table and sat down. “Yes.”

He sighed on his end. I heard rustling sounds, something creaking. Channing yawned as he said, “I’m assuming I don’t want to hear what’s going to be said over this call. It’s almost four in the morning.”

“Probably not.”

“Fuck.”

I wasn’t one to waste time. “You haven’t called Bren this week. Why is that?”

“Say what?”