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her.”
    “Because Seth was right. You love her.” Lucien’s voice is low, and he’s not looking at me.
    “Yes. Because I love her.”
    It still doesn’t feel natural to say.
    Lucien nods and turns slightly away. I feel the pain before I know what’s going on. I stagger back and put my hand to my bleeding jaw. My blood is on Lucien’s knuckles, and he’s breathing so heavy I think he wants to punch me again.
    “I may not be on Seth’s side, but I sure as hell am not on yours.”
    With that he walks out, leaving me alone and bloody on a kitchen table that isn’t even mine, in a house in the middle of nowhere.
    I should’ve probably said I was sorry.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Hart
    L UCIEN IS SITTING OUTSIDE ON THE porch, watching the rain or thinking or something. I don’t know what he’s doing. I know what I’m doing, and that’s going up these stairs and getting out of these clothes. I never liked the gray before, and I don’t like it now. I honestly can’t believe I’m in my uniform again. It seems weird, heavy and muddy and awful, and… weird.
    My father hated that Lucien joined the north. He hated that I joined the south. He hated that we joined period.
    I was jealous of my brother.
    I tried to be a good son.
    Mainly because I screwed up Lucien’s life so much. I tried to make it right.
    That worked out well for me, didn’t it?
    I go up the creaky old stairs to the second story. There’s literally no one home, and I have to wonder why. Did Seth do something to them? Because I can see that happening. I know I saw light coming from this house when Lucien and I were outside in the storm. I know it. And then for Seth to come in and everyone be gone…
    At first, I thought it might’ve been my house, the house we lived in growing up. I see it in my dreams. I see it in Gracen’s dreams.
    We had a little farm outside town. It had a pond and one old, dead tree. I remember when it got struck by lightning. It wasn’t my finest hour, and that’s saying a lot.
    Lucien and I used to play outside by the pond, and when our mother needed us, she’d come outside on the porch and yell.
    She yelled a lot.
    Mainly for Lucien.
    Because she always wanted his help with something. Or maybe it was to get him away from me. I don’t know why, and I guess it doesn’t matter.
    What matters is that the first thing I thought of when I saw this house was my childhood home. It’s built about the same—same porch, same floor plan if I want to be honest—but there’s no way it’s the same house. Lucien and I didn’t die that close to home. Certainly not within a few minutes walk. So not the same house—it can’t be the same house.
    Unless it is the same house.
    That would be my luck.
    In any event, it has been remodeled. Very recently by the looks of it and based on my affinity for HGTV. I go into one of the rooms upstairs—if it had been my old house, it would’ve been my parent’s room—and find the closet open and clothes strewed around the room. Obviously, this is where Seth and Lucien got their clean clothes.
    I set the lamp I’ve been carrying down and head for the closet. Part of me wants to search the room to find out where the heck everyone is, who lived there and, maybe, where they went. They couldn’t have just disappeared, and it would be really ironic if they just disappeared without a trace. Unless Seth had something to do with it. I can so see Seth having something to do with it.
    But because my brother is downstairs moping, and Seth has gone to do something I’m afraid of, I stop trying to figure out the mystery of the house and instead look for some clean, dry clothes that might fit me.
    All the jeans are too short for me. They remind me of what people used to call high waters.
    That’s what I need when the world ends. To be wearing high waters. Hell, then I might even be okay with it. If I must wear high waters, I might as well die.
    Yeah…
    Anyway, I finally find some old jogging pants on the