Chapter 69

Logan stopped the car beside the curb of a nondescript little house about six blocks from his family. “Got a surprise for you inside. Merry Christmas, bro.”

When he got out of the car and grabbed the duffel in the back, Hunter followed reluctantly. “If you’re trying to set me up with one of your pain groupies, please don’t. Just let me see Dad and everyone else—”

“Sorry.” Logan darted for the door and fished the keys from his pocket. He slung the duffel in Hunter’s direction, then tossed him the keys. Hunter caught them reflexively. “I’ll be back for you by dinner. If you’d rather stay in, just text me.”

What the hell . . . ? Hunter turned on his brother and stormed down the concrete walkway, toward the Jeep. “Damn it, I don’t want this.”

“Yes, you do.” Logan got in the car and locked the door, rolling down the passenger window. “Trust me.”

With that, he drove off.

Hunter sighed. He’d be furious if it didn’t take too much energy—something he hadn’t been