Mason
We went back to Samuel's things that night, spreading everything across the workbench again under the harsh overhead lights of the shop, long after the rest of the clubhouse had gone quiet. Zoe insisted on it, restless and wired after everything that had happened at Marisol's house, and I didn't have it in me to tell her no, not when I understood the particular kind of exhaustion that only came from needing to do something useful with your hands while your mind refused to settle.
"He would have hidden it somewhere I'd think to look," she said, more to herself than to me, sorting through a box of old receipts for what had to be the third time. "That's how he did everything. Nothing was ever obvious, but nothing was ever truly out of reach either. Like he wanted me to find it eventua
