Page 33

Dylan

C alm returned as I glimpsed the Sugar Shack at Mark’s parents’ house. None of the drama related to how we’d been separated seemed real in this quiet New Hampshire backyard. I parked, and we just sat, both pretending we knew what to do next.

He looked at me. “Let’s not bring it up until after lunch.”

I nodded. “Or at all.”

Inside, Gene greeted us with a bear hug that squeezed the breath from my lungs, followed by Leslie’s gentle smile and Lanie’s easy laughter.

The kitchen was thick with the scent of bread and garlic butter, and something sweet baking—Gene always overdid it when we visited.

He said he loved having two sons. Mark joked that if I claimed that role, I would also need to share his chores.

I assured him, I could afford to hire someone to help with my share.

Jennifer was chatting with Leslie while Mark helped her set the table, a carved wooden bowl in the center—his latest project, initials still faint in the maple grain. Lanie flitted between the kitchen and dining room. The scent of maple syrup sweetened the air.

We lingered in the kitchen too long—no one in a hurry to break the spell of normalcy.

Gene told stories from Mark’s high school days.

Lanie piped in with a new pun every few minutes.

Leslie asked Jennifer about her latest video project.

I watched, grateful, and tried not to let the worry show on my face.

We finally sat, passing warm bread and potatoes.

Mark kept an eye on Leslie, serving her first, checking if she was tired.

Gene offered more butter, and I joked that he was trying to fatten us up.

Lanie made a crack about needing to balance out the sugar with dairy.

Jennifer laid her hand on my thigh beneath the table—a little spark just for me.

It was very different than the family meals I’d grown up with, but it also felt right.

Halfway through the meal, as Gene and Lanie were trading jabs about syrup, my phone vibrated—one quick buzz, then silence. I checked under the table, careful not to draw attention, while Leslie told a story about Mark’s woodworking and a near-miss with a power drill.

No FBI. I don’t want to hurt anyone. STOP.

I pocketed the phone, shielding Jennifer with a quick smile. My “Forever” vow burned in my chest. I’d keep her safe, no matter what.

Somehow, we’d keep them all safe.

Lanie, a little wine-warmed, leaned in and grinned. “It was so weird seeing you two together last month. I still can’t believe I didn’t realize it was Dylan in Portsmouth.” She turned to Jennifer, her voice teasing. “How long did it take you to figure out it was Mark and not Dylan in Haverwick?”

The air went still. Mark’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.

My heart stuttered. What did they know that we didn’t?

Jennifer’s smile faltered, her fingers twisting her ring, gaze slipping from mine.

The question hung between us, raw and uninvited.

Mark shot a look at Lanie, then at me—a silent apology.

Jennifer’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Took a bit,” she said, eyes fixed on her plate.

The conversation stumbled, then Gene recovered by bringing up another embarrassing story about Mark from when he was a toddler and tough to toilet train.

Laughter bubbled up, but the warmth had a crack in it.

I glanced at Jennifer. She was distant, biting her lip, and I knew we’d have to talk about this later.

I hated realizing my mind was still hiding things from me.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of comfort food and forced cheer. Gene told one last story about Mark’s first time tapping trees for syrup. Leslie made everyone promise to visit more often. Lanie teased Mark about his woodworking calluses.

But the shadows lingered.

Later that day, I slipped onto the porch with Mark, the cool air brisk in my lungs. The Sugar Shack stood quiet in the yard, with the glow from inside spilling onto the grass. I handed Mark my phone, showed him the anonymous text. His eyes widened.

“Who do you think—?” he started, but I shook my head.

“I don’t know. But it’s not going away. The FBI agent, Simmons, the Gravestones—none of it. We have to be careful.”

Mark nodded, silent for a long moment. “We should tell everyone.”

I stared into the darkness, feeling Jennifer’s absence at my side. Family was everything. I wanted to tell her everything, but I also didn’t want to scare her before we had a plan.