He’d dropped his sister at the airport a few hours ago and grabbed some takeout from a nearby Mexican restaurant, hoping to eat himself into a coma. Maybe just the act of sending Kari home would break up whatever dynamic his mind had established over the past several days. Same with taking a short hiatus from his dad. Devin had told Mason that he’d swing by over the weekend, lying to him about needing to put in some face time at work. He’d never brought up the fourteen-day forced vacation triggered by the hotel job. As far as his dad knew, he was on bereavement leave.

He just needed a few days away from Falls Church. A little space from ground zero to recalibrate. The dark circles under his eyes told him a big part of his recalibration would involve sleep—or trying. A burrito the size of his forearm and the cheese quesadilla sitting in his stomach wagered he’d be out as soon as he went horizontal. Devin wasn’t so sure.

He turned the light off and shuffled out of the bathroom to his unmade bed. Hadn’t some famous Navy SEAL said something about making your bed if you wanted to change the world? Looked like the world would have to wait a few days. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and let his house sandals fall to the carpet before grabbing his phone off the nightstand. More out of habit than anything else, he activated the home screen to see if he had any messages.

He’d been texting back and forth with Marnie Young over the past few days, throwing around the idea of grabbing a drink or coffee when everything with his mom settled down. She’d just recently left the Marine Corps after fifteen years and was temporarily living at home in Falls Church with her parents—until she landed a job in DC.

She was looking for something on Capitol Hill, which could springboard her into politics or a policy position. Her backup plan was to join the fairly large pool of the recently departed or retired officers working senior positions in the civilian side of the Department of Defense—in or as close to the Beltway as possible. She didn’t want to shut the door on Capitol Hill.

The screen showed one text message, from a number he didn’t recognize. Actually, it was three numbers and a dash, followed by two numbers. Spam or some kind of automatic message update from something he’d mistakenly opted into previously. Nothing from Marnie. He was about to activate the Do Not Disturb feature and put the phone back on the nightstand when he caught a line of the text.

Respond with first movie you saw in the theaters and the first and last name of your first prom date. No spaces. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.