After a moment, my brother sighs deeply before placing his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go fix it then.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. We walk back into the house together, following the wet tracks Gemma left behind. Just as expected, she went straight to her room. We walk upstairs and stop in front of her door.
I can already hear her crying. The sound is like another stab to the chest. I briefly think about knocking but dismiss it, knowing she will just send us away. I grab the knob and try to turn it, but all it does is rattle in my hold.
“It’s locked,” I point out the obvious, “Gemma, open the door.”
“Go away.”
“Gemma,” Denver tries. “Open up. We just want to talk.”
Silence.
“Great. What now?” I look over at Denver, who is rolling his eyes at me.
“You’re such an amateur.” He shakes his head and reaches for something on top of the doorframe. When I see the small silver key in his hand, things fall into place.
Of course. How could I forget the key?