Page 41 of Without a Trace
“Great,” Lena chirped, hopping in. “Pancakes and guilt it is.”
I buried my face in the fridge door.
Kanes voice sliced through the quiet.
“Soooo… is someone going to explain why Alden looks like he saw God and Trace looks like he wants to kill him?”
I slammed the fridge shut. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not,” Sloane said calmly. “You’re making pancakes and telling us everything.”
I looked at Hemingway, who sneezed.
It was going to be a long morning.
“I made it strong,” Sloane said, handing me a mug of coffee—a peace offering. “You’re gonna need it.”
I took it without a word, leaning against the counter while Lena hovered next to me, practically vibrating with curiosity. While Hemingway circled my ankles like he hadn’t just slept through an emotional war.
“Did you sleep at all?” Lena asked.
“I don’t remember,” I muttered, taking a sip.
Sloane watched me. She didn’t push, not yet. But she was waiting for me to crack.
Kane sat at the table, bare-chested and smirking like he knew exactly what kind of mess I’d made. He had a plate of toast and aglint in his eye like he’d been waiting for this morning his entire life.
He popped a piece of bacon in his mouth. “Soooo… I ask again… are we gonna talk about what happened last night?
I groaned. “Still not talking about that.”
Rhett walked in, hair damp from a shower, stretching like he’d just conquered a 5am run we all knew damn well didn’t happen. “Morning, chaos crew,” he said, voice a little too cheerful.
He looked to Trace, entering just behind him. “Any word from Zeke?”
The air shifted.
Trace grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it at the sink, his movements calm. “Not lately.”
His tone made me pause.
Sloane noticed too, glancing at me.
Lena’s smile faltered. Her fingers paused mid-stir in her mug, the silence hitting her like a cold breeze. She didn’t speak—but she leaned a little closer to me, instinctively seeking warmth.
Kane didn’t say a word.
Which told me everything.
Sloane picked up on it too, her grip tightening just slightly on her mug as she sipped her coffee.
“Sketchy,” she muttered.
Rhett just shrugged, helping himself to toast like he hadn’t just set the whole room on edge.
Trace acted like nothing happened.
Meanwhile, I hadn’t stopped replaying every second.
