Chapter 6
Prescott stares at the dark screen of his phone and then tucks it back into his pocket. He looks at me straight on, as if he’s afraid I’ll miss a single word.
“I need to apologize for what happened.”
“You did already.”
“Actually, I said I should apologize—I’m fairly certain I never did.”
I search my memory, but everything’s hazy. The words we spoke. Smoke from Darien’s campfire. The scent of Kona blend. I raise a hand and let it drop. “Actions speaking louder than words?”
“Perhaps, but the world would be a better place if more people apologized.”
He’s right about that.
“So, I’m sorry. I’m especially sorry for what happened in the warehouse, with Malcolm.”
Without warning, my whole body recoils. Despite the warm night, shivers wash over my skin. A wave of nausea hits me,
