His stormy gray eyes are full of shadows. “I had to confront something from my past. Something that wouldn’t let go of me.”

“What? That’s not an answer,” I demand. I reach up and touch his bruised eyebrow. “Who hurt you?”

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not proud of my past.”

“You’re my brother. I love you. I don’t care about your past, I only care about you.”

“We all have secrets, Grace,” he says, with a hint of accusation—or maybe that’s me projecting my guilt about the secret I’m hiding. His gaze drops to his hands. “I have to keep mine.”

I want to push him for more, to find out where he went and what he did. To make him tell me who hurt him so I can hurt them right back. But if I’ve learned anything in the last month, it’s that some secrets are worth keeping. How can I fault him for keeping his secrets when I’m steadfastly keeping mine?

Maybe that’s something I can make him talk about in the future, but at this moment, I don’t care. He’s home, he’s mostly unharmed. That’s all that matters.

“I respect that,” I tell him. I lean in for another hug. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

He whispers, “Me too.”

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “I bet you’re starved. Let me see what Mom left in the fridge.”

Before he can answer, I dash into the kitchen. I’ve just found the bowl of leftover vegetarian chili from last night when the doorbell rings.

“Got it,” Thane says.

And just like that, everything is back to ordinary. As I pop the bowl in the microwave, I grin. Mom and Dad are going to be so overjoyed that he’s home—even if they didn’t know he went anywhere other than Milo’s house. Life is going to be back to normal before I know it. Now, if we can just get Gretchen home, then everything will be perfect.

CHAPTER 23

GREER

When I ring the doorbell at Grace’s apartment, I don’t imagine anyone but Grace will greet me. I know I should have considered a scenario in which one of the other members of her household opens the door, but when the handle turns and the door swings open, I’m speechless to see a boy standing there.

His eyes are startling. A dark, stormy gray that sweeps over me like a spring thunderstorm. The look on his face—a face full of sharp lines and chiseled planes—is equally turbulent. Angry even. With his thick brows drawn into a deep scowl, it doesn’t take second sight to know he’s not thrilled to see me.

Oh dear. This is Grace’s brother. What was his name again?

If I could go back in time five minutes, I would pull out my phone and call Grace instead of following another resident into the building and taking the elevator to her floor. I would stay on the sidewalk around the corner.

That’s not an option now, though.

As lame as I know it is, I say, “Hi. I’m Greer.”

He looks me up and down, his scowl deepens, and he turns and walks away. I watch his broad shoulders retreat into the apartment. Since he didn’t slam the door in my face, I’m going to assume I’m welcome to follow.

I follow him to the kitchen door, where I can see Grace punching buttons on the microwave. She turns when he calls her name.

I brace myself for her reaction.

Her face drops, and I can practically feel her panic. Not that I blame her. If she’d been spotted at my school the other day, I’d have felt the same way. She recovers quickly though and gives me a little wave. “Hi, Greer.”

“Grace?” her brother repeats.

She squares her shoulders, and I admire her bravery as she says, “Thane, this is my long-lost sister Greer. Greer, this is Thane.”

He looks over his shoulder, the twisting motion pressing the edge of his arm against mine. Everything about him—the grim set of his mouth, the furrowed brow, the stiff stance—clearly indicates he is not happy with my presence.

I feel awkwardly uncertain. I don’t have siblings—well, I didn’t have, not ones I grew up with. I have no frame of reference for what goes on between brother and sister. I don’t understand the dynamics.

“Greer,” she says, “can you give us a minute?”

I nod and retreat to the living room next to the front door. Even though I try hard not to hear, some of their muffled conversation is unavoidable. Words like blood and family and can’t tell ring clear.

All the words are Grace’s. If her brother is speaking, I can’t hear him.

As I sit there, trying not to eavesdrop, I can’t get the image of his eyes out of my mind. Dark, gray, hard. Lonely. Longing. The image blurs and shifts, zooms out. Becomes something else.

I see him standing in the kitchen with Grace. Either this just happened, or it’s happening right now.

“She’s my blood, Thane,” Grace says. “My biological family.”

“That’s pretty obvious,” he says. “How long have you known?”

“Awhile.”

He scowls.

“A few weeks,” she says.

He shakes his head.

“Thane …”

“I get it. I’m glad you found each other.”

Grace hugs him. “Please. You can’t tell Mom and Dad.”

Thane says, “I know.”

An echo of his voice says, “I already knew.”

“Greer?” Grace shakes me, pulling me out of the vision. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks damp. A door down the hall slams shut.