“You said you hadn’t realized you’d lost it until I texted.”

“I hadn’t. But that doesn’t change anything. I have no idea how it got there, and I have nothing to do with that baby.” He shoves my phone at me. “Is my bag really in police custody?”

“Yes. They don’t know it’s yours yet, but—”

“You didn’t tell your mom?”

“I wanted to ask you about it first.” Because I had to know. And because I felt like I owed him that, after everything he did for me after my dad died. Night after night of holding me while I cried myself to sleep. Calming me down after nightmares. Riding out emotional outbursts I couldn’t even explain. He was so there in those moments. So present. Which is why I can’t understand how things changed. Why he’s lying now. Hiding things. Unless … “You’re sure that’s not your baby?”

His gaze hardens. “Of course I’m sure.”

“Is there any way that could be your baby without you knowing it?”

“No!” He stands and runs one hand through his hair again. “What are you now, a cop?”

“You look scared.”

“Of course I’m scared. If you don’t believe me, why would the police?”

“When they figure out that’s your bag, they’ll take your DNA and run a paternity test. If the baby isn’t yours, you’ll be cleared. But if it is … Well, lying about it now is pointless.”

“I’m not lying!” He takes a deep breath, and I can see him trying to calm down. “Since when am I just a suspect for you to interrogate?”

“Since you started getting texts you don’t want me to see!” I don’t expect to read his messages, but the fact that he’s actively hiding something—practically lying right to my face—is a humiliation I can’t just ignore.

If he’s cheating, I can’t be the last to know.

“Beckett, I—” He opens my bedroom door, then he turns back to me, still holding the knob. “You need to get help.”

I follow him into the hall just as he stomps past Penn and bumps his shoulder.

Startled and sweaty in spite of the cold, my brother pulls his earbuds from his ears. He glances from me to Jake. “What’s wrong?”

“Your sister’s lost her mind.” Jake disappears into the living room. The front door slams shut, then I hear his car start. His tires squeal as he backs onto the street way too fast.

“What the hell?” Penn says. “I thought you two broke up.”

“We did.” And I’m sure that’s awkward for my brother, because he and Jake have been friends since long before Jake and I got together.

“What was he doing here?”

Instead of answering, I go back into my room and close the door.

Penn follows me in without knocking. “Beckett. What happened?”

“The bag is his.” I flop down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. “The duffel.”

“Whoa, seriously? Are you sure?”