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I manage to log out.

Then I clear the cache.

Then the history.

Then the autofill.

I close the laptop and press the lid shut until I hear the soft click of the latch. I press my hand flat against the top.

This place, this cabin, this quiet—it's felt removed from that world.

But that world has longer arms than I realized.

And people like me don’t get to escape their life without serious consequences.

I pray they never find me.

Chapter 13

Jonah

Iknow something’s wrong the second she walks into the kitchen. This is not the Ani we’ve come to know over the last few days.

She has fully retreated into her shell. And it’s even worse than that. Because she’s not just moving quietly and slowly. Her feet actually drag. Her shoulders are hunched. There’s no laughter, no attempt to play with Mae.

Before, she was trying at least.

Now she just sits at the table in one of the sweatshirts from the front closet—mine, I think, judging by the stretched-out cuffs—and stares in front of her.

I pour her tea anyway. Same as always. Earl Grey, a splash of almond milk, no sweetener. I set the mug down near her elbow, but she doesn’t lift her head. Doesn’t say thank you.

That’s when I know for sure something’s really wrong.

“Morning,” I offer, testing to see how she’ll respond.

She nods but doesn’t meet my eyes.

She’s pulled so far inward it’s a miracle she made it out of bed, and whatever happened to shove her back inside herself has got to be pretty bad.

Mae finishes her cereal and hops off the chair without a word. She disappears down the hallway with a book tucked under one arm.

Ani’s still staring straight ahead. And I’m too caught up in watching her to scold Mae for not washing out her bowl and putting it on the drainboard.

I lean against the counter and try not to make her feel watched. Her hand lifts to the mug, fingers curling around it, but she doesn’t drink.

I wait.

Nothing.

Finn walks in ten minutes later, humming under his breath. It’s the same song I’ve heard Ani humming a time or two. I shake this jealousy off. This is a good thing, I tell myself. Finn is good for her. I’m not.

His hair’s still wet from the shower. He’s wearing that same old T-shirt with the sleeves pushed up and his usual smile.

Usually he gets a return smile from Ani, but he doesn’t today.

That makes his cheery mood falter. He gives Ani a once-over, something flickering behind his eyes before he moves to her side.

Finn bends, presses a kiss to her temple, and stays there for a second. His hand covers hers on the table, thumb brushing along her knuckles. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t lean into it either.