“I said, I am not hungry. I don’t think I could eat a bite of anything.” I roll onto my other side, away from him, but that doesn’t spare me the sound of his heavy sigh. I can’t bring myself to care very much right now that I’m making life difficult for him. My mother is dead, and I’m too busy trying to make sense of everything to care either way about food. It seems so trivial when I know she’s out there somewhere in that wreck of what used to be a house, buried under all that tile and marble, granite and hardwood. All the luxuries she ever wanted. They’re now her tomb. I squeeze my eyes shut and tuck my chin against my chest, fighting back another wave of emotion that levels me flat no matter how I try.

She died knowing she let me down. We never even got the chance to work things out.

“It isn’t like I don’t know how you feel.” He sits on the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight. “I still can’t get ahold of Nix, either.”

I roll over, now sorry for glossing over what I know he’s going through. His back is to me, and I place a hand against it. “It could be a coincidence. I’m sure that’s what it is.”

I’m lying. It’s been twenty-four hours since the explosion—more than that, actually. Nix hasn’t so much as picked up his phone to send a quick text and let his brother know he’s okay. I can’t imagine why he would have been at the house, but anything is possible.

We both jump a little when the doorbell rings. Immediately, Colt hurries from the room, and I follow him with my heart in my throat. Who is it going to be? What will they have to tell us?

It’s the detectives from last night, people whose names I don’t quite remember. There are still a lot of things that are a blur. “Mr. Alistair, we wanted to come and speak with you personally about developments in the case.”

The woman—I think her name is Jones, maybe—looks over his shoulder to find me standing in the doorway leading from the bedroom. “Miss Peters, I’m glad you’re here as well. Why don’t we all sit down?”

And now I know it’s bad news. Not that I expected anything else. I’m not a little girl anymore. I know certain things aren’t possible, like surviving an explosion and the destruction that followed it. I sit on the sofa, my hands clasped between my knees, and Colt sits beside me. To these two, we are a stepbrother and stepsister family. I have to remember we’re not supposed to be more than that.