Chapter 4

The Adams' backyard was alive with the sound of laughter and the smell of charcoal. Their annual neighborhood barbecue always drew a crowd, but today it felt suffocating. I stood near the drink table, watching Nathan across the yard as he chatted with Tom from two doors down.

To anyone else, he looked normal—smiling, occasionally laughing, a beer bottle dangling casually from his fingers.

But I saw what others didn't: the way his eyes kept scanning the crowd, the slight tension in his shoulders, the practiced ease that didn't quite reach his eyes.

I took a sip of my lemonade…