Jenna & Brandon — Betrayal at the Port
Her words weren’t a solution.
They were something sturdier: permission to stop solving everything that night.
At nine, my phone began lighting up.
Brandon had sent eleven texts.
The first asked where I’d gone.
The last demanded that I stop making him look bad in front of his parents.
None asked if Piper and Quinn had eaten.
None mentioned meeting them.
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