Jennifer’s POV
The silence between us still hummed sharp and unfinished when the knock came.
It startled me more than it should have — a brisk rap against the wooden door that sliced through the air like sunlight after storm. Jack’s eyes flicked to it, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t move right away.
Another knock followed, quicker, lighter, and then the unmistakable squeal of a child’s voice, muffled through the door:
“Uncle Jack!”
Jack muttered something low under his breath, something I couldn’t catch, and finally crossed the room to open the door.
The cottage filled with noise at once.
Two boys burst in like a storm of their own, identical in build and wildness but different in subtle ways. The first — Caelan, I remembered — with his storm-gray eyes, the spitting image of Jack
