Prologue
Chesney, Age Sixteen
Damn, I shouldn’t have been gone that long.
I lost track of time, and now I’m sneaking onto the property, keeping my steps light and quiet as if this place hasn’t been my home forever.
Easing the barn door shut instead of letting it swing, I wince at the soft click, like it might carry across the whole damn ranch and land right in my dad’s ears. That’s all I need right now.
The night air is cool and smells of dust and grass and something I don’t want to think too hard about. I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, like I can wipe the whole evening off my skin. I was stupid. And reckless. If anyone finds out, I’m screwed.
“Lyle?” I call, low at first, out of habit more than anything.
My little brother is always around. And always where he’s not supposed to be—hanging off fences, trailing after me like a shadow I pretend to be annoyed by but never actually am.
I remember being his age and doing the same with my older brother.
He was the coolest guy I knew, and I imagine that’s how Lyle feels about me. How can I be annoyed by that?
When I don’t get an answer, I step farther into the barn, my boots crunching softly over dirt and hay. The horses shift in their stalls, a quiet rustle of movement. But something isn’t right… It’s too still otherwise. Too quiet.
“Lyle?” I try again, a little louder this time.
Nothing.
I frown, glancing toward the tack room, then the open aisle, then back toward the house. Maybe he wandered in there when he couldn’t find me. He does that sometimes when he gets bored—goes looking for something to do, someone to bother.
Something in my chest tightens. I try to ignore it.
Lyle is ten, not five. He doesn’t need me watching him every second.
Despite reminding myself of that, I move faster, walking out of the barn, then across the yard.
My eyes scan the porch, the fence line, the old oak tree by the side of the house that has the tire swing he loves to play on.
“Lyle!” I call out again. The panic rising in my chest is impossible to ignore. The sound carries, then disappears. No answer.
I stop in the middle of the yard, turning in a slow circle, like I might’ve missed him somehow.
Like he’ll suddenly appear if I look hard enough.
He should be here—he would be here—waiting for me, asking questions, talking a mile a minute about something I only half-listen to, wanting to know if he can help with this or that.
Swallowing hard, I drag my hand down my face. “Knock it off. He’s fine. You’re worrying for nothing.”
But even as I say that, my feet are already moving again.
Toward the far pasture—the one I was in earlier before I left.
The one I— No. I refuse to finish that thought.
I have to keep looking for him. Lyle’s here somewhere.
I know he’s here… He has to be. The grass brushes against my jeans as I cut across the dark yard, the only light coming from our house behind me and the faint spill of moon overhead.
The wind picks up just enough to move through the fields, low and restless. But still, it’s too quiet.
“Lyle!” I’m shouting now. My heart races, because now I’m not calling him just to find him. I’m calling because something’s wrong. I hit the fence line and grab the post, my breaths coming too fast now. I scan the pasture automatically, and that’s when I see it. The gate.
No.
No, no, no.
My stomach drops. It feels like I miss a step, even though I’m standing still.
I closed that before I left… Didn’t I? Of course I did.
I always close it. I take a step closer, and then another, my legs shaking so badly I’m surprised I don’t collapse.
The latch hangs loose, swaying slightly in the breeze, tapping softly against the wood like it’s trying to tell me something I don’t want to hear.
“No,” I whisper when it hits me like a freight train. I was rushing. Before I left, I remember rushing, thinking it caught. I didn’t check. I always check. But I didn’t tonight. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out everything else as I push through the gate, my hands shaking like my legs now.
“Lyle?” My voice cracks. I can’t breathe.
“Lyle! Are you there?” The pasture stretches out in front of me.
Shadows and movement and nothing that makes sense pass before my eyes all at once.
It’s too dark. Too wrong. Stumbling forward, I squint against the darkness, scanning, searching, my chest so tight I can’t get a full breath in.
“Answer me!” The words claw up my throat, desperate and terrified. “Lyle!”
Nothing.
No answer. No quiet noise indicating where he might be. No sight of my brother.
Then my foot catches on something uneven, and I go down hard on one knee. Pain shoots up my leg, but I barely feel it. Because something inside me already knows. Something inside me understands in a way my brain doesn’t.
“No…” Vision blurring, I shake my head like I can undo it. Like I can go back ten minutes, twenty, an hour… Like I can do anything except be here right now. “I was just—” Tears cascade hot down my face. “I was only gone for a little while. I just— No.”
The words don’t matter.
None of it matters.
Because I should’ve been here. I should’ve checked. Should’ve kept a better eye on him. My little brother. He needed me, and I wasn’t here.
“Lyle,” I murmur, softer this time, begging for this to be a sick joke.
“Lyle, please…” The night doesn’t answer back, and somewhere in the distance, something shifts.
I can feel it—low, heavy, final. I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands digging into the dirt just so I can hold on to something solid, something real.
But it’s already gone.
Whatever this is, whatever I’ve done… It’s already too late.