I nod, though the truth is I don’t know if I’m clever enough to beat him. Every time I try, I stumble—and he’s there, waiting, smiling like a wolf.
The room quiets again. Adelaide fills the silence with stories about classmates—who’s pregnant, who moved to the city, who got arrested for stealing from the hardware store. I let her chatter wash over me, the sound of normal life smoothing the edges of my thoughts. For a little while, I even manage to smile.
But the clock on the wall ticks too loud. Each second chips awayat the illusion. Eventually, I push up from the chair, tugging my hoodie tighter. “I should go. If he comes home and I’m not there….”
I don’t finish. I don’t need to.
Adelaide squeezes my hand once more. “Then go, carefully. And remember—Blackwood. Six months.”
Constance doesn’t move, just fixes me with that jagged, prophetic stare. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Be careful, Summer.
I nod and turn toward the door, pulling the hood up, trying to disguise the girl I’ve become. I’m halfway across the porch when Adelaide calls after me, her tone light on purpose.
“Oh, and by the way—we’re going to Dogwood later. Thought we might catch a glimpse of this Benny fella.”
A startled laugh slips from me, soft and unwilling but real. “You two are impossible,” I say, shaking my head. The sound trembles, thinner than it should. Because even as it leaves my lips, I know Jacob will smell it on me—the trace of them, of freedom.
The door clicks shut behind me. My breath fogs in the cold, vanishing before I can catch it. I tug the hood lower—not for warmth but for the illusion of cover.
The walk back feels longer than it did coming here. Each step heavier. Each shadow darker. I keep glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting headlights to sweep the road or, worse, Jacob’s truck crawling slow. The houses thin. Branches claw across the sky, black against the light. My sneakers crunch over gravel, loud in the silence—like the world is announcing me.
My pulse pounds so hard I’m sure anyone watching could hear it.
I tell myself to breathe. To stay calm. To remember the way it felt with my girls—laughter spilling over coffee, Constance rolling her eyes, Adelaide’s hand on mine. But the memory is already fragile, splintering.
At the orchard trail, I hesitate. The shortcut is faster but hidden. Both are dangerous in their own way. I take the road. At least there, if something happens, someone might see.
My chest tightens with every step that takes me closer to his house. The air thickens, heavy as wet cloth. The trees lean inward, branches whispering like they know where I’m headed.
Constance’s warning echoes in my head:He always knows.
By the time the porch comes into view, my stomach is twisted in knots. The house sits dark and silent—but silence doesn’t mean empty. Silence is Jacob’s favorite weapon.
I stop at the edge of the drive, frozen. I could turn back. Keep walking—past the treeline, past Rosefield, past every road that’s ever led me here.
But I don’t. I can’t.
So I walk. Slow, careful steps up the gravel, each one loud as a gunshot in my chest. The porch looms closer. The wood looks darker tonight, the boards like teeth waiting to snap. The handle glints dull silver in the dying light. My hand shakes as I reach for it. Inside, the air will be thicker—his air, his space, his rules.
I swallow hard, force myself forward, and press my palm to the door. The wood feels warm, as if the house itself has a pulse.
I turn the handle.
The door creaks open into silence—the kind that listens, the kind that waits.
I step inside.
The door clicks shut behind me.
And I already know: there’s a war waiting for me.
Chapter 11
Where She Belongs
Jacob
The sun glares down like an interrogation lamp when I pull into the drive.
