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“What, that I won’t leave you?” Truck asked, the confusion evident in his voice. He couldn’t believe Hemlock was still questioning that.

Hemlock’s lips twitched like he was trying to crack a joke, but it fell flat. “No, that I’m both your sibling and your kid.” The humor in his voice was forced, thin, like a mask he didn’t quite know how to wear anymore.

Truck gave a rough exhale, shaking his head as a half-smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, okay. Itdoes sound a little fucked up when you say it like that,” he muttered. “But you know what I mean. You’re family, kid. You don’t get to change that. No matter what.”

Hemlock shifted; his face still hard to read. But something softened in his gaze, just a little. The wall he’d put up wasn’t completely gone, but at least some of the cracks were showing.

“Are we gonna get down to why you jumped to that conclusion and where the hell have you been?”

Hemlock stared at Truck sheepishly. “I’ve been hiding in the garage apartment.”

Truck’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and the silence between them thickened. He stared at Hemlock like he couldn’t quite make sense of what he was hearing.

“You’ve been hiding in thegarage apartment?” Truck repeated, his voice barely contained. “That’s where you’ve been? All this time?”

Hemlock shifted uncomfortably on the steps, his gaze flicking between the ground and Truck. There was a sheepishness in his eyes that made Truck’s blood start to simmer again, but he held himself back—just barely. Hewantedto yell. Hewantedto shake him, to knock some sense into him. But instead, he breathed out through his nose and managed a low growl. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I have,” Hemlock muttered, his voice defensive.

Truck narrowed his eyes. “Where’s your bike been?”

Hemlock gave a small, guilty smile. “Inside with me,” he muttered, as if that somehow made it better.

Truck’s jaw clenched as he stared at Hemlock, still sitting on the steps, looking like a kid who’d gotten caught sneaking cookies from the jar. The silence between them was thick anduncomfortable, but Truck wasn’t backing down this time. He wasn’t letting this slide.

“No,” Truck said firmly.

“Yes,” Hemlock shot back, his voice laced with a kind of stubbornness that only made Truck’s frustration boil hotter.

“You’ve been eating myUncrustables?” Truck asked, unable to stop the incredulous edge in his voice.

Hemlock’s shoulders tensed, and he avoided Truck’s gaze. “About that,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “you’re out of the strawberry ones.”

Truck stared at him, blinking in disbelief. “What?”

“I love Charlie and when I figured it out…” Hemlock blurted out.

Truck leaned forward, letting out a sharp exhale through his nose. “You got scared shitless.”

“Yeah. Then I tried calling her all afternoon. And you, too. When I rolled up and saw the car…” he trailed off, his voice ending in an uncomfortable silence.

Truck felt the weight of the confession, the raw emotion behind it. Hemlock hadn’t just been hiding fromthem—he’d been hiding from himself, from the truth. And when the fear took over, it had clouded his judgment, made him see things that weren’t even there. “You assumed the worse before you ever stepped foot inside,”

Truck’s voice was low, a little more tired now, like the fight was draining out of him.

“You let your own damn paranoia screw you over, kid.”

Hemlock’s eyes flickered, guilt and shame evident on his face. “I did.”

Truck exhaled, his shoulders slumping just a little. “Let’s not jump to conclusions anymore. Okay.”

“Okay.” Hemlock’s gaze flickered to the steri-strips on Truck’s chin, and a sharp pang of guilt hit him. It was hard to ignore, especially with how raw it felt now, the way his actions had justhurtsomeone who’d never done anythingbuthave his back. Hemlock’s voice dropped a notch, the weight of it settling in his chest, “I’m sorry for punching you.” the words thick with regret.

Truck winced slightly as he ran his thumb over the edge of his chin where the cut was still tender. “About that. My chin’s still killing me,” his voice held an almost dry humor, but it was clear that despite the pain, he wasn’t angry.

Hemlock chuckled. “Getting soft on me, old man?”

Truck snorted, shaking his head. “Nope, and once this is healed, we’re going another round.” He glanced at Hemlock with a little glint of mischief in his eyes.