Jack’s POV
I didn’t know why I kept coming back.
The cottage sat at the edge of the woods like something misplaced—too small, too fragile, too warm. My truck was parked on the dirt road that ran along the trees, tucked in the dark, engine cold so it wouldn’t draw attention. Headlights off, windows rolled down just enough for the night air to slip in.
It was quiet here. Quiet enough that I could hear the faint scrape of her chair on the wooden floor inside, the clink of a plate being set down, the light footsteps that only belonged to her.
I told myself I stayed because of the bats. Because they weren’t gone. Because the shadows that had once stolen everything from me could just as easily come for her.
That was the reason I clung to, the excuse I used when my chest tightened and my han
