By Colleen Foley
I looked from Jim to Seth and back again, angry and trying to process.
I could still see that thing on Seth’s now-covered hip. It would become one of those things you can never un-see. Like a train wreck.
Deciding felt like a balloon of resigned determination bursting in my gut.
I still wanted to shoot them both. But I knew now that I couldn’t. Shit.
I downed the shot, slammed the glass onto the table, and looked hard at my brother.
Jim looked up, a startled owl, alert to danger.
“Where’s the key? And what’s hunting us?”