The key turns in the lock with a soft click, and for a moment I just stand there, hand on the knob, listening to the silence inside. The house is dark except for the glow of the streetlamp filtering through the living room curtains.
I push the door open and step inside.
“Winter?”
Eleanor’s voice comes from the top of the stairs, small but clear. She’s standing there in the shadows, still in the same clothes from yesterday—her dress rumpled, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks like a little ghost.
“Hey,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended. I clear my throat. “You should be in bed.”
“You said you’d be back earlier.”
I did. I was supposed to stop at Abel’s for ten minutes, then come straight home. That was hours ago.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I drop my bag by the door and st
