Logan's POV
Quinn stands rigidly, his entire body language screaming denial. But I can smell the fear on him—the anxiety poorly masked by forced confusion.
'He's good at this. Too good. He's been lying about this for years.'
Before I can push further, the kitchen door swings open. Lynn emerges carrying a plate of cookies, their edges slightly too dark.
"These might be edible," she announces, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe."
The tension in the room breaks. Quinn's shoulders drop, his expression smoothing into something more natural. I force a smile.
"They look perfect," I lie, taking one.
Lynn settles back onto the couch, and we all take cookies. The slightly burned chocolate chips crunch between my teeth, but Lynn's anxious expression makes me chew with exaggerated appreciation.
"Not b
