CLAIRE

Marcus drove us deeper into downtown, away from the gallery district. "Blake, where are we going?" I asked for the third time.

"You'll see," Blake replied, still grinning.

Julian was quiet beside me, his hand holding mine tightly. "Julian," I said softly. "You okay?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted.

Blake turned around from the front seat. "That's why we're not going home," he announced. "You need to not think for a while."

"I'm fine," Julian protested.

"You're not fine," Blake corrected. "You just bought your dead mother's painting at auction, you're allowed to not be fine."

"Blake," Julian warned.

"But," Blake continued, ignoring him. "You're also not allowed...