The first thing I should've done was tell August. That would've been the smart, responsible thing. The loyal thing. But I didn't.
Instead, I grabbed my phone and called Reece. Because deep down, something told me he'd know what to do—maybe even more than August would. Maybe he already does.
The phone rings once. Twice. My fingers start tapping against my leg. My heart is hammering in my chest like it's about to knock itself out of rhythm.
When Reece finally answers, I don't even breathe before I speak.
"Logan is in the United States," I blurt out.
There's a pause. "What?"
"He's in the States," I repeat, slower this time. "I—I talked to him. Just now. It was really him."
Silence stretches on the line for a second too long. I can hear the gears turning in Reece's head. Then finally, h
