But apparently, the stranger didn’t pick up on social cues. He slid off his stool and ambled over, drink in hand, to perch on the seat next to Rylan. But as he opened his mouth to say somethingmore, his phone rang. He glanced at it, set his drink down, and threw a hundred on the bar.

“Sorry, gotta take this.” He motioned to the bartender and pointed to the hundred-dollar bill. “Hey, his first two rounds are on me. The rest is for you.”

The man offered Rylan a smile and a slap on the back, then strode out, already raising the phone to his ear.

The bartender picked up the money and set a tumbler of amber liquid in front of Rylan. “You know him?”

“Nope. Never seen him before.”

“Me either. Hm. Good tipper, though. He only had this one drink.” He picked up the half-finished drink and moved away to dump it. “Let me know when you’re ready for your second.”

Finally alone, Rylan stared at the glass of bourbon for a long time, the rational part of his brain screaming at him to push it away, to get up and walk out that door. He could almost hear his sponsor’s voice in his head, stern with disappointment.You’re stronger than this, Ry. Walk away.

But tonight, he didn’t feel strong. He felt hollowed out, like all the best parts of him had been scooped away, leaving nothing but an aching void.

He picked up the glass, its smooth surface cool against his palm. The scent of bourbon curled into his nostrils, simultaneously enticing and repulsive. He imagined the burn of it sliding down his throat, the warmth blooming in his chest—the promise of oblivion, however temporary.

For years, he’d resisted this. He’d fought to stay on the right path, to hold onto the fragile threads of sobriety that had kept him grounded.

But now… now he couldn’t remember why.

And it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

The bourbon burned on the way down, a slow fire that spread through his veins, numbing everything in its wake. For a briefmoment, the tightness in his chest loosened, and the whispering demons in his mind quieted.

He set the empty glass down and signaled for another.

Because tonight, he couldn’t be anyone’s rock.

Tonight, he wasn’t the strong one.

Tonight, he was just a man silently falling apart.

chapter

two

The roadahead was a long stretch of nothingness, shrouded in fog so thick that Grace Holt could barely see more than a few feet in front of her car. She squinted, leaning forward over the steering wheel as if that would somehow improve her vision. The headlights cut twin beams through the mist but did little to help.

A shiver ran down her spine. Something about this stretch of road felt wrong, almost otherworldly. The shadows seemed to move in unnatural ways, and more than once, she thought she glimpsed something dart across the road beyond the reach of her headlights.

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was just paranoid. Mom had been acting weird for weeks now, and until yesterday, Grace would have sworn she was imagining things. But then Mom had insisted that Grace take Noah on this impromptu “vacation,” practically shoving them out the door with hastily packed bags. The urgency in her mother’s eyes had been unsettling.

Grace drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with the soft music on the radio, then glanced at her brother in the passenger seat.

Noah was glued to his phone, scrolling through something, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. He hadn’t spoken much since they’d left home—no surprise there.

“Can you at least try to enjoy the scenery?”

Noah snorted, not looking up. “You mean trees? Super exciting.”

Grace sighed. Typical Noah. “Bigtrees. The biggest.”

“I’m here because Mom made me come. I could be at home gaming right now.”

“Well, I’m excited,” she said, injecting as much cheer into her voice as she could muster. “A whole week away from everything. No work, no school, no stress, just some quality time in nature.”

“I’m not sure I’d call this ‘quality time,’” Noah muttered, but he finally lowered his phone and gazed out the window, a frown tugging at his lips. “It’s all foggy. Where even are we?”