“Oh. Okay.”
Outside, metal clattered against pavement. Ashley peeked through the motel blinds, squinting at the night. A shadow moved on the far side of the parking lot near the massive dumpster. For a moment, Ashley’s chest tightened.
“Who’s—”
“That’s my dad,” Logan interrupted. “Taking out the trash. You can wave.”
Tentatively, Ashley waved.
Alejo turned toward the window and blinked. After a moment, he waved back, expression snagged somewhere between confusion and distaste.
Ashley cleared her throat. “It’s okay I’m here?”
“My dads haven’t cared about who I brought over since I was, like, thirteen.”
“You brought a lot of people over?”
Ashley wasn’t sure why she asked. Maybe it was the strangeness in the air. She thought it was probably the strangeness in her own chest.
“You should’ve seen me in LA.” Logan smirked. “I was a menace.”
“I feel like that version of you would’ve been even worse.”
Logan’s nose crinkled up in protest. “Worse implies I’m bad now. Which … is actually fair.”
“You’re not as bad as you think you are,” Ashley said.
“I think I’m a national treasure.” Logan’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, if a bunch of camera guys pop out at the end of this whole thing and it was a hidden intervention to make me nicer, I’m gonna be pissed.”
“I wouldn’t,” Ashley said. “That would mean no one is actually dead.”
Logan pressed her lips together, squashing whatever she meant to say next. Just like that, Ashley knew she’d killed the easy tone of it all. She hadn’t meant to bring up the disappearances—tonight was supposed to be murder-free—but it was always lingering in the air around her.
“Hey, we’re not talking about dead people,” Logan said.
“Right.” Ashley closed her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about investigating. She just wanted a friend. “When this is over, are you gonna go home?”
Logan hugged a pillow tight to her chest. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t really know if LA is home for me. When I was growing up, my dad said home wasn’t a place we lived. It was when we were together. All three of us.”
Her voice was quieter than usual, dark eyes tracing the crisscross ceiling pattern in silence. It was only in quiet moments like this that the sadness came through. Because that was the thing about Logan—under the sharp one-liners and incredulous glares, there was always a sadness that felt so deep Ashley thought she could fall into it and never reach the bottom. It was a sadness Logan had sewn into her chest. That she’d fashioned into a piece of her personality.
“You don’t think that anymore?”
Logan shook her head. “I don’t know. Once we moved to LA, I was just alone all the time. I thought the show would end eventually and it would be the three of us again. But it was like I was always waiting. Even if we leave here and go back, I just … I don’t know.”
Ashley held her breath for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
Logan looked at her. It felt like the first time she really looked at her. She pursed her lips for a moment like she was considering whether or not the truth was worth it. Then, she sighed. “I talked to my dads. About everything. Or, I tried to. But Brandon just shut down. He literally walked away.”
“Oh.” Ashley cleared her throat. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. But it’s not like it’s the first time. He just … shuts down.” Logan wiped her nose. “They let me on the show once. Alejo wasn’t there, it was just me and Brandon in Tulsa. Everything was fine, and then we were in the tunnels and I kept asking him questions and he just freaked. He wouldn’t even look at me. He told me to go home and leave him alone. And then that was it. They never let me on the show again. And he never … since Tulsa, this is how he’s been.”