He taps his finger on the glass, glancing somewhere over my shoulder. “Mason’s a bit of a pushover when it comes to her, so Shawn’s more or less taken it upon himself to be the bad cop in her life.” He pauses before adding, “Their mom works a lot, and Phoebe’s not exactly trustworthy enough to be left alone. Girl’s a magnet for trouble.”

I chuckle at that. “Yeah, I got that impression.”

He hesitates before taking a couple steps closer, ensuring his words are only for my ears. “What she said earlier...she wasn’t completely off-base. Mason can be a little...” He searches my face as if deciding how much he wants to tell me. “...oblivious at times.”

“What do you mean?” I risk asking.

This is the most words Waylon has spoken to me since I saw him again, and I’m not about to waste what might be my only chance at getting him to open up. To maybe trust me again, or at least realize I’m not here to fuck his life up.

Hell, maybe he’s just guilty for what he said before, and this is his way of making it up to me. Who knows? I’ll take it, for however long it lasts.

“He was in a really shitty place a couple years ago,” he says slowly, like he’s testing the words. “As I’m sure you can imagine.”

I nod, realizing he’s talking about Izzy. “I had no idea. By the way. I’m...sorry. I can’t even imagine.”

His jaw clenches, and he takes another swig of whiskey. He swallows, then in a rough voice, says, “It is what it is.”

A frown pulls at my lips.

“Anyway, as I was saying...” He flicks his gaze up as if to ensure Mason’s not in hearing range. “He wasn’t in a good place.”

“Drugs, right?” I whisper.

“Yeah, pills mostly.” He blows out a breath. “He ended up overdosing about two years ago. Phoebe found him.”

“Shit,” I breathe.

“Yeah. It was really fucked up. For both of them. She was only twelve, and he was harboring enough guilt over Izzy as it was. This was just the cherry on top of a real shit sundae, you know?” He casts a look around the room, eyes growing far away. “He went to rehab after that. So despite how awful it was...”

“It’s what led to him getting clean,” I finish softly.

He nods. “Yeah.” He huffs bitterly, then as if an afterthought, adds, “You know, some part of me can’t help but wonder if he did it on purpose. Set her up to find him. A cry for help or something. What’s better than your baby sister? It’s gotta be a hell of a motivator.”

Bile rushes up my throat as memories of last year try to pull me under.