“That makes no sense,” she says, her voice light, almost thoughtful. “Because that would mean she got pregnant at seventeen, had a shotgun wedding, then after her husband mysteriously died, she hid the pregnancy from the entire town, including her family, and gave the baby up for adoption without telling anyone.”
A beat of stunned silence follows.
She blinks at all of us. “Right?”
No one breathes.
Because when she says it like that—laid out, blunt, and matter-of-fact—the weight of what she’s just put into words is staggering.
Bennett’s face is unreadable.
I look at Mo. Mo looks at Orion. Orion exhales through his nose, his expression grim.
Celeste, still frowning, takes a slow sip of her tea. “That’s insane,” she adds like she’s just now realizing it herself. “Right?”
No one answers.
Because, at this point, we all know better than to think anything about this is impossible.
Bennett’s eyes flick to me like I might refute it. But I don’t. Ican’t.
Because deep down, I already know it’s true.
“We need answers.” Orion is the first to break the silence, his voice steady, and decisive. He looks between us, his gaze landing on Mo. “I’m going to take this to the lab to get some tests run. If we can prove Aubrey was involved, we can start putting the pieces together. Think about her background and knowledge. Let’s try to narrow it down so the lab can run more specific tests.”
Mo nods, but her face is drawn, uneasy. “I’ve been trying, but I’m running into walls. Too many dead ends, too many people too afraid to talk. Gabriel was onto something before he was killed, but I don’t know what.”
Selene clears her throat. “Then maybe it’s time we talk to someonewho does.”
***
The drive out to Cassie’s place is tense, stretching the silence thin between us. The further we go, the more the town fades behind us, swallowed by winding roads that cut through thick forests. Shadows stretch long across the pavement, branches tangling overhead like skeletal fingers.
Orion’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles pale, his jaw clenched as he focuses on the road, his usual sense of urgency gone.
Mo, for her part, is silent, staring out the window with her arms crossed, her foot bouncing anxiously against the floorboard. She hasn’t said much since we left. Probably lost in her thoughts. I don’t blame her.
In the back, Selene, Celeste, Bennett, and I are packed in tighter than I’d like. The weight of what we just learned presses down on us, thick as the scent of pine outside.
Aubrey is Bennett’s mother.
I still can’t wrap my head around it.
The woman who raised me—the woman I trusted, who was so composed and put together, who never once let on that she had a kid—was hidingthis?
My stomach twists. If she keptthisa secret, what the hell else was she hiding?
I glance at Bennett, but his expression is unreadable, his gaze locked on the passing trees. If he’s feeling even a fraction of what I am, he’s burying it deep. I wonder if he’s thinking about what this means for him. For us.
We grew up an hour away from each other. Is it possible that we’ve passed each other before? Brushed shoulders at a store, sat in the same diner? How many near-misses have we had in the last twenty-eight years?
The thought makes my skin itch.
I shift my focus to Selene and Celeste instead. Selene has one earbud in, but she’s not listening to anything—just an old habit, a method of grounding herself. Celeste, on the other hand, is staring at her nails, chewing her lip like she’s debating whether or not to speak. She loses the battle.
“This is some soap opera-level drama,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Long-lost sons, secret identities, probably some murder—”
Bennett’s head snaps toward her. “Probably?”