Half truth

“God, that must be so hard,” I whispered.

I instantly thought of Lincoln and felt my eyes fill with tears. What if he woke up and was like that? We’d help him, of course. We’d love him, no doubt. How would he cope though? After having such a huge personality. How could he cope like that? My eyes followed Deacon as he got something out of the glass case that held the croissants and loaves.

“You’re thinking about your brother.”

“How could I not? Who knows how his brain is right now and whether or not he’ll react like this when he wakes up?” I wiped my face quickly.

“Maybe.” She stood and walked behind the bar and started fiddling with the coffee machine. “So, what’s new with you? How are classes? How’s the newspaper stuff going?”

I was still stuck on the maybe and the nonchalant way in which she’d said it. She didn’t know Lincoln, not really anyway, but she’d had a crush on him, possibly even slept with him if he was the hockey player she’d told me about.

“Classes are fine. Newspaper is fine,” I said, responding to her question in hopes that it would distract me from reading into things too much.

I looked over at Deacon and Becca. He was scarfing down a croissant, while she was texting someone on her phone. The front door opened and people walked in—two police officers and one blonde pregnant lady behind them. Hailey walked back over to me and sat down in the same seat. She picked up the remote and unmuted the television, where once again, there was a picture of Lana.

“The anonymous caller claims to have seen Lana Ly, a student at Ellis University, who disappeared earlier this year. When questioned, the caller said she’d been in the woods drinking illegally with friends and didn’t think anything of it until the following day,” the news reporter said. They displayed a different picture of Lana, wearing a floral spring dress and smiling at the camera. “If you have any information, please reach out to the police.”

“Pretty doll,” Deacon said from behind the counter, pointing at the screen. “Pretty doll.”

“She’s not a doll, Deacon. She’s a girl who’s gone missing,” Becca said, clearly irritated. She gave me an apologetic look, shaking her head.

“Hey, Becca. Hailey.” One of the police officers took his hat off and greeted them. “How are the cows, Deacon?”

“They’re good,” he said slowly. “A lot of milk.”

“That’s great. So you’re still using them for dairy?” the other officer asked.

“Yes, until I can’t no more. They’re my babies.” He shrugged.

He didn’t look mean or creepy when he spoke to them. I realized it was the first clear sentence he’d spoken since he’d arrived. The officers continued speaking with him and I sat down in my usual spot, clicking on one of the articles, even though I’d already seen what the anonymous caller said.

“I am so tired.” Hailey yawned loudly. “Deacon called me at the crack of dawn saying his stupid sheep ran away and I had to help him go find her.”

“That sucks.” I cringed. “Did you find her?”

“Yes. I swear I never hit anything but I wanted to kill that thing.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Are you going to the toga party tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

Celia had been the one to tell me about it. She’d texted saying her house was one of the ones participating. Apparently, it was a party that went on for an entire block. You paid at one house, got a wrist band, and were able to go to all of the houses participating. If I went, I’d only go to Celia’s though. It wasn’t like I had a ton of friends. Unless you counted Max and Logan and Nolan, and possibly Marcus. I sat back in my seat. When the hell had I become the girl who had predominantly male friends? I’d always had them growing up because of Lincoln, but it wasn’t like I went out of my way to be friends with guys.

“Come on. You should go.” She set down her coffee. “Between your schedule and mine, I feel like we’re never on the same page.”

“Maybe I will.” I shrugged, smiling, but got serious. What if the person sending the texts was watching me? What if they were waiting for me to slip up and go to a party like this? I couldn’t imagine the secret society being behind the texts, not after getting them this morning. That would be stupid. It had to be someone else. Someone co

“You look worried. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been getting weird texts.” My gaze snapped to Hailey’s. I pulled out my phone to show her.

“Creepy.” Her eyes widened on mine as she held my phone. “Have you tried calling?”

“Of course. It’s always disco

“It must be a burner phone.”

“A burner phone? Why would they use a burner phone? They obviously don’t want a response from me if that’s the case.”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, handing it back to me. “Be careful with that though.” She picked up her mug again. “I mean, why would they say that about your brother when they know you know what happened was drug abuse?”

“It wasn’t drug abuse.”

“Didn’t he overdose on heroin? That’s drug abuse, Mae.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Lincoln didn’t try to kill himself. He doesn’t even . . . he hates drugs.”

“I know it sucks to hear this, but it’s what happened.”

“No. It’s not.” I shook my head as I gathered my things. I could feel myself getting angry the longer I sat there, and worse, feeling watched. Every time I looked up, I saw Deacon standing there. “I should go. I have to get my things ready for later.”

“See you later,” Hailey said, smiling at me as if she hadn’t just completely insulted my brother’s situation. “Text me when you’re on your way there.”

I waved at her, waved at Becca and sort of waved at Deacon. He was talking to the police officers again but his eyes were on me. I walked back to my apartment, thinking about everything that had happened these last few days: the pictures of my brother with Lana, the short entries Lana had written in her computer describing the man she’d been with and how my first thought had been my father, which was absolutely insane. Still. The clues were there. Why would she be arguing with my brother? I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that he could be the son of the man she was having the affair with. I couldn’t deny it, especially after knowing Ella was somehow involved with him. I’d seen the way Ella talked about my father. I hadn’t had further contact with her, aside from the thank you responses via email when I sent her pictures, but that didn’t mean much.

I was still lost in my own thoughts when I reached my apartment and bumped into someone, a hard someone. I glanced up, apologizing, and found myself looking at a carbon copy of Logan. Patrick Fitzgerald. He gri

“Let me hold the door for you,” he said smoothly.

“Thanks.” I walked through. He followed. I shot him a look. “Weren’t you leaving?”

“I was, but maybe I changed my mind.” He kept gri

There was no warmth in his eyes as he smiled. Even this reminded me of Logan, the way he had the ability to turn his warmth on and off. I heard a conversation and turned my head in that direction. Logan was sitting there with a man that had to be his father, because even though his skin tone was a few shades lighter than theirs, he looked just like them—dark hair, chiseled jaw, green eyes.