We walked back into David’s house, the door clicking shut behind us with a heavy finality. Mike was carrying his own luggage this time, no longer letting anger or distance keep him separate from the rest of us. Matt’s hand was on my back—firm and a little too possessive, like he was anchoring me to him, like he wasn’t entirely sure I would follow him through the front door if he let go.
The house smelled faintly of coffee and something citrusy, like someone had recently tried to clean, but not too thoroughly. I let out a long, low sigh as I kicked off my sneakers by the door, grateful to be rid of them. The soles had started pinching, and my feet ached with more than just exhaustion.
Without saying anything, I drifted back into the kitchen, the one part of the house that always felt aliv
