HARRISON
I didn’t think it would feel like this. I didn’t think saying it out loud would make the air go this still, this sharp. Like a storm passed through and forgot to take the lightning with it.
But I said it. And the silence that follows is so deep, it hums.
Gavin stares at me like he didn’t hear it right. Like if he doesn’t speak, maybe it won’t be true. His jaw’s tight, his hands fisted at his sides, his posture frozen—too still to be neutral.
Jack’s already halfway to the next thought, pacing near the floral wreckage of the bar, lips parted like he’s got a list of theories he’s been waiting to unload.
Parker?
She’s still. Seated at the edge of the riser, eyes down, like she’s trying not to absorb the explosion about to go off in front of her.
Gavin’s voice breaks the silence
