“I did tell you it was gonna be hard,” Alejo said. He brushed a strand of Logan’s hair from her face.
“Why are we here?” Logan asked.
Alejo and Brandon looked at each other with identical half-frowns. It was a kind of telepathic communication that Logan had never been privy to, even back in LA. Even crammed in this tiny motel together, she was stuck on the outside. They didn’t mean to shut her out, yet here she was.
“We’re here to help people,” Alejo said.
“I thought we were here for the show.”
“We are,” Alejo said. “And the show is gonna help people.”
“How?”
Brandon adjusted his glasses. “I know you might not believe in what we do, but there are things wrong with this town. You can feel it, right? Even when your dad and I were kids, things were wrong. Now we’re here to figure it out.”
“Is it the missing kid?”
“I don’t know.”
“No offense,” Logan said, “but you guys never solve anything.”
Brandon grimaced. “This is different. It’s personal.”
“That sounds so creepy.”
“Not creepy.” Alejo laughed. “More like you grow up in a place and think it’s normal because it’s all you’ve ever known. We never really planned to come back, but with everything we’ve learned since leaving, we thought we might be able to do some good here. It’ll be like saying a real goodbye, anyway.”
“Okay,” Logan said.
Alejo squeezed her hand. “I promise, that’s all it is.”
Behind Alejo, Brandon looked at his hands.
“I wish you left me in LA,” Logan said.
Alejo pulled Logan into a hug. “I know it sucks. We can’t leave, but your dad and I will do whatever we can to make it better.”
Logan burrowed deeper in her comforter. The patterned floral wallpaper, the ’70s wooden tables, the chipped crosshatch ceiling, the buzzing fluorescents—it was going to drive her crazy. She cast her arm over her forehead dramatically. “I need art or something. String lights. New pillows.”
Alejo eyed Brandon and nodded. “Decorations. We can do that.”
He lay back against the pillows alongside Logan. On the end of the bed, Brandon sat up straight. He eyed them wistfully and Logan thought he looked so lonely it hurt. He leaned in for a moment like he meant to lie down next to them but couldn’t. This was how it always went. He was always simultaneously here and a thousand miles away. She’d seen him make this face more times than she could count, and it felt like this every time.
“Hey,” Alejo whispered. He reached for Brandon’s hand.
Brandon stood and offered a pained smile. “It’s getting late. I’m gonna turn in for the night. You’re better night owls than me.”
Alejo said nothing. The door between rooms shut behind Brandon, and the two of them were left in an uneasy quiet. Logan cleared her throat. It wasn’t too late to make an appeal. “I feel like we don’t have to stay here.”
“No. We don’t.”
Alejo’s sweater rustled as he sank deeper into the mattress. Getting him to admit even that was a small victory. Alejo’s palm was pressed over his eyes, lips pressed in a taut frown.
Logan sat up. “Then what are we doing here? Like, really?”
“What do you mean?” Alejo asked.
“It’s been six months. What are you still trying to figure out?”