Jane
I sat frozen on the edge of Austin’s bed, staring at my knees like they held the answers to everything. The room was big enough to feel expensive, but it didn’t look like a catalog or a hotel. It was messy in a personal way—hockey sticks propped against one wall, cracked tape dangling from the blade like a dead snake, a pile of clothes half-folded on a chair. Posters of old games tacked crookedly above his desk. Normal. Comfortable.
But the air felt like it weighed a ton. The second he’d opened the door and seen who it was, I’d felt every muscle in his body lock tight next to me.
Austin and his father.
I didn’t even have to see the man to know what kind of presence he had. His voice leaked through the wall in hard, controlled syllables like he was trying to grind Austin down into
