Pierce packed quietly.
The house had settled into its night sounds. The soft hum of the refrigerator. The distant tick of the hallway clock. His parents’ bedroom door closed, their voices long gone. He moved through his room with practiced care, folding clothes instead of shoving them, as if neatness might keep the walls from listening.
He chose only what mattered. A few shirts. His phone charger. The hoodie Cade used to steal despite being two sizes too small. He hesitated with it in his hands, pressed his face into the fabric, then folded it and put it on top.
He didn’t pack much. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, or if he’d ever come back.
Earlier that night, he’d been lying still in bed while his parents whispered in the kitchen, thinking the house swallowed sound. He’d learned
