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than the one I know is coming. I might be able to digest them better that way.
    Her muted green eyes circle the ceiling, in search of answers.
    “Oh, that’s right. He cal ed when I got to work and asked where the spare was.”
    Shit.
    “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. So where was it?”
    She pul s away from the laptop dramatical y.
    “Are you kidding me? I…” She stutters in frustration. “Oh heck, I don’t know.” Her fingers reconnect with the keyboard. “Probably in the kitchen somewhere. Lord knows we had a mil ion junk drawers.”
    “Yeah.” I slide off the seat and head upstairs.
    Junk drawers.

    ***

    I convince my mother to let me go with Bree and Drake over to the bowling al ey, only we’re not going to the bowling al ey we’re going to Logan’s house to see Gage—an irony only my life could provide.
    The guard at the entry to the Paragon Estates raises the long arm of restriction and lets us in. A dense mist brooms across the landscape pul ing the tree-lined streets in and out of focus.
    Gage and Logan’s house comes up on us. I can practical y feel Gage staring at us from some undisclosed window. His black truck is parked in the driveway cockeyed, and Logan’s white one is gone. Gage mentioned his parents were away on the mainland today, so I can only assume sexual awkwardness wil ensue once he starts chasing me around the couch—although, I am growing tired of Logan’s silent yet rude routine. I just might let Gage catch me.
    After a solid minute of knocking and ringing the bel , the door swings open, exposing a very wet from the shower or pool or whatever, handsome as hel , Logan.
    “Come in.” He holds back his yel ow lab, Charlie from darting out the door.
    Briel e and Drake head straight into the family room chatting to themselves as though it were natural as breathing that Logan should be here at al . Sans the fact that he actual y lives here, I’m stil shocked by the prospect.
    “Hey.” I scan the entry behind him. The faint scent of cologne lingers in the air. The wind chime hanging up next to the garage gives a three-toned homage to a slight breeze passing through.
    “Don’t you want to come in?” It sounds cold the way he says it, makes me shudder.
    I cross the threshold. The hol ow of the door connecting as it closes fil s the strange silence around us.
    “Gage said you were coming over.” There’s a sheepishness about him I don’t expect. “He volunteered to take my shift. I had him take my truck as a precaution.”
    It startles me what this might mean. Logan wanted me here? Was kissing Gage al it took to shake him back to his senses?
    “Come on.” He ticks his head over, and I fol ow.
    We pass Briel e and Drake already watching something on TV and head upstairs.
    It’s a grand wrought iron staircase, wider at the bottom then it tappers off near the top. Tan Berber carpet is held back with a black iron bar on each step, which leads to an expansive landing and a series of hal s once we reach the top. In al honesty, Logan’s house didn’t strike me as al that huge judging from the downstairs. In fact if you chop off the top half, it would almost qualify as your average suburban home, but upstairs is a labyrinth. I’d need directions and a compass to even hope to navigate this place on my own, and forget about finding my way back down.
    The hal way Logan leads us through is painted a dark unattractive shade of red. It clings to the wal unnatural y, patchy like dried blood. I’m not sure why his Aunt Emma would pick such a gruesome color. The rest of the house is done in cheery shades of pale blue, spring green, sunshine yel ow. It’s only this hal that suggests there are secrets— reveals the fact it knows certain truths.
    He leads me to a door farthest off the back, pressing his hand flat against the dark glossy wood door before turning the knob.
    Logan glides into an easy smile.
    “I miss you, Skyla.”

    My heart thumps unnatural y.
    Logan’s