Page 22 of Burden of Proof

He answered with a lingering laugh on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you up?” I asked.

“No. We were up,” he said. “Are you okay?”

I pinched my lips together between my teeth and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. And even though he couldn’t see me, Silas knew.

“Do you want to come over? You can stay here tonight. We can talk in the morning? Have some bacon?”

I screwed my eyes closed and nodded.

There was a silence, and then Silas’ worried voice, “Are you okay to drive?”

“No.” I cleared my throat. “No, I’m not okay. Yes, I want to come over. Yes, I can drive.”

“Are you sure? Marshall and I can come get you.”

“I can drive,” I said.”

“I’ll unlock the door,” Silas promised. “Get here safely, Lincoln. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll figure it out and fix it in the morning. Okay? Just like we always have. Right?”

I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, Silas. Just like always.”

CHAPTER 8

HUNTER

Saturday morning, I felt like shit.

Finn wasn’t answering his phone, and it was too early for Smith to be awake, so I did the only thing that made sense. I drove myself to Marshall’s house.

“You look like you got hit by a train,” he said instead of hello, stepping out of the doorway to let me in.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, my unshaven jawline abrading my palm.

“I know it’s early on a weekend. I don’t mean to interrupt anything, it’s just Finn wasn?—”

My oldest brother cut me off with the press of his fingers against my lips. I snapped my mouth closed and narrowed my eyes at him.

“You don’t have to make it sound like I’m the last resort,” he said, inclining his head toward the kitchen. “You’re always welcome here.”

I toed off my shoes in his entryway and padded after him. The house was mostly dark, save for a light on in the kitchen and the sunlight streaming in through the window. I climbed onto one of the barstools at the counter and propped my chin in both of my hands.

“Where’s your better half?” I asked.

Marshall pressed some buttons on the coffee pot and the smell of liquid heaven quickly filled the room. I inhaled deeply, groaning when my stomach growled.

“He was up late with his best friend,” Marshall explained, placing a mug of coffee in front of me. “Are you hungry?”

“You heard that, then?”

He huffed out a breathy laugh. “Do you want me to make you some breakfast?”

“I can cook.” I slid back off the stool, coffee in hand, and eased around the island until I was in the kitchen beside him. “The least I can do for pulling you out of bed this early.”

“I was already up.”