“Yeah.” She nodded. “They came to get her, and I told them to get lost. But Gemma insisted on going with them. She pushed right past me, and then they just left.”

“She willingly went with them?” His eyes widened. “I thought she was afraid of them.”

“I know! So did I!”

“So what happened?” Daniel asked. “Did she come home last night?”

“Yeah, she came back a few hours later.” Her face scrunched in confusion, and she shook her head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. She’d left the house in shorts and a tank top, and she came back in a dress I’d never seen before, and she was soaking wet. I asked what she’d done, but she wouldn’t tell me.”

“At least she came home okay,” he said.

“Yeah.” Harper sighed, thinking. “She didn’t come home right away. She stopped at Alex’s first—that’s the neighbor kid, and he’s her sorta boyfriend, I think. I asked him if he knows what’s going on, and he says he doesn’t. I believe him, but I don’t know if I should.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, and Harper looked up, surprised to see that he meant it. “I know that it’s hard having someone you care about doing reckless things. But it’s not your fault.”

“I know.” She lowered her eyes. “And it doesn’t feel like my fault, but … I have to protect her.”

“You can’t, though.” Daniel leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You can’t protect people from themselves.”

“But I have to try. She’s my sister.”

Daniel licked his lips and lowered his eyes. When he wrung his hands together, a thick silver band on his thumb caught the light. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and Harper could see he was struggling with something.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on my back?” Daniel asked finally.

“Yeah. I can’t really miss it.”

“Do you see what it’s covering up?”

“You mean your back?”

“No. The scars.” He turned away from her, so his tattooed shoulder and back angled toward her.

Whoever had given him his tattoos had done a very good job. The ink was thick and black, and it wasn’t until she looked closely that she saw the branches weren’t shadowed to look gnarled and twisted. They had been drawn that way, along the lines of several lengthy scars.

Not all the branches covered scars, and the long, thick trunk that followed his spine didn’t appear to have scarring underneath. But there were enough to show he’d been through something.

“And right here.” He turned his head to the side and moved his hair. An inch or so into his hair, buried underneath his shaggy haircut, was a thick pink scar.

“Oh, my gosh,” Harper gasped. “What happened?”