Luke turned to Jet. “It was JJ?” The rage undisguised in his voice, or in his fists, gripping the table too hard. “No, we don’t know,” Jet said. “He’s just skipped town, won’t answer his phone.” “And the text,” Dad said. “The Sorry text.” “I’ll kill him.” Luke slammed one hand on the table, making the cutlery jump and the baby flinch.
