Tobias comes to a stop beside me at the foot of my bed. The longer I’m silent, the closer his eyebrows creep toward his hairline. “It would appear you have some idea who did this.”

“I…” I’m embarrassed to tell him. To recount my flub yesterday to anyone. At some point, I will have to acknowledge what is happening here out loud. But I need to deal with the immediate problems first. Need to wrap my head around what I’ve caused. “I need to call Shayna and tell her what happened. Then the police—”

I pretend not to notice Tobias scrutinizing me.

But I can’t ignore him when he approaches—and attempts to sweep me up in his arms like a child. I wrestle my way free, batting at his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Comforting you,” he explains, attempting to cradle me again. “It’s just the thing.”

“No, it’s not!”

Finally, he gives up, but he’s extremely put out about it, the absolute nut ball. “Fine. I’m calling the lads.” When I look at him in surprise, he adds, “Balance, right? If you were in danger and no one called me, I would go fucking mental.”

Danger? “I’m not in danger.”

“Try saying it with a little more conviction.” He taps the screen and holds up the phone, the familiar chirp of a call connecting filling the vandalized room. It’s not a regular old call, though, he’s FaceTiming. As if a group text with four people isn’t bad enough. Shoot me right now. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me, Elise,” he says solemnly, right before the FaceTime connects.

Keeping a problem this big from them doesn’t seem right. Not at all. And I find myself murmuring, “I’ll explain when we’re all together, so I only have to do it once.”

Two faces pop up on the screen. Banks is on top. There is a parking lot behind him, as if we’ve caught him walking to his car. Gabe is shirtless and holding a bottle of beer, construction grime still shadowing his jaw and forehead.

Banks is brisk. “Hello.”

“Yo,” Gabe says, peering into the phone, so only his eye is visible on the screen. “What’s good?”

Tobias gives me a withering look. “I hereby call an emergency Tram Fam meeting. Elise’s apartment has been trashed and she won’t even let me hold her like a baby.”

“What?” Banks has stopped in his tracks. “Trashed by who? Let me see her.”

Tobias shifts the phone, but I can’t look Banks in the eye. He’s going to know I’ve been withholding something from him, even after he asked me about the story. I assured him I was clear of the situation, so he’s going to feel that betrayal deeper than the other two. “I’m fine,” I say, suddenly feeling a very urgent, almost shocking need to be surrounded by all three of them. The need is so crucial, a shudder winds through me.

Still connected to the FaceTime, Tobias stomps over and draws me up against his chest. “We’re going to call the police and then—”