I look at her like she’s insane. “Since fucking when do you give anyone chances?”

“I just don’t think he’s here for the reasons you’ve seemed to come up with.”

I’m shaking my head. “Why else would he come back here out of nowhere? What the hell happened after I left?”

Fuck. He wouldn’t tell them, would he? He wouldn’t be that fucking stupid, right?

“I think he’s sad.”

I blink. “Sad.”

She nods slowly, eyes searching mine.

“Sad,” I repeat. I huff and look away, not really seeing anything as I gaze around the alleyway and the rooftops beyond.

“Just a vibe he throws out. He’s...lost.” She hesitates. I get the feeling she’s not telling me everything. “And he was more than happy to walk away, so you might be right. If I were him, I’d stay as far away as possible.”

Throat tight, I nod. I know she doesn’t mean away from me personally, but she might as well have.

“And for the record,” she says quietly, “he had no idea about Izzy.”

I stiffen. “What?”

“He didn’t know. He asked Mason where she was...” She gives a small shake of her head. “He was completely blindsided.”

Fuck.

“Is Mason okay?” I rush out in a breath, muscles straining as I fight the urge not to run after my best friend to make sure he hasn’t, like, flung himself off a roof or something.

Or go straight for fucking Will and wring his damn neck. What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck is he playin’ at?

“Mason’s fine, Waylon,” Ivy says in a placating voice, leaving no room for argument. “He handled it.”

I slump, forcing myself to relax as I run a hand over my hair. Nodding a couple times, I consider what this means. “And you believe him. Will, I mean.” I ignore the way my voice catches on his name, hoping my cousin doesn’t notice.

“Yes,” she says without a second’s hesitation. “I do.”

More nodding.

But if he didn’t come back here because of that, then why?

We don’t say anything more on the subject as we pass the joint back and forth a couple more times. The Scorpions’ “Rock You Like a Hurricane” plays loudly from the bar below, rattling the fire escape and competing with the growing crowd.

Ivy hops down after a moment to take a seat on the grated steps. She folds her leg in, resting the point of her chin on the fishnet-clad knee. “Spoke to my mom earlier. Looks like your daddy dearest is trying to appeal for an earlier release.”

Tossing the roach over my shoulder, I turn and lean back, arms spread wide along the railing. “Again?”

She makes a small noise of acknowledgment in the back of her throat.