Cassie nodded back without slowing, the tune slipping under her breath as she went.
The road bent and widened, the trees pulling back just enough to make a clearing where trash and brush had gathered in heaps.
A pack of kids had claimed it.Barefoot and dirty, one little boy wore a Spider-Man suit with the mask shoved up on his forehead while another swung a stick like a sword.They shouted and laughed as they squared off, while two girls nearby sat on sheets of plywood balanced over tractor tires, chanting and clapping through the familiar Down-Down-Baby rhythm.
Cassie’s mouth tugged into a smile that faded just as quickly.It was scavenged joy she knew firsthand—pieced together from cast-offs and trash.
The sun finally broke through the clouds just as the road dipped past the old water tower—rust streaking down its legs, bullet holes pocking the tank.On one of the lower beams, faint scratches caught her eye: initials and crude hearts carved into the metal where generations of Clifton Ridge kids had left their marks.
The sharp sound of Nash dragging his blade across that beam echoed in her ears.She could almost see the sparks of silver scoring the rust.Hear their laughter among the cicadas.Feel the kisses that followed—soft at first, then rougher, as they tangled in the grass.
She tore her eyes away and quickened her pace, practically jogging down the switchback path, past the drainage pipe that used to flood every spring, past a half-collapsed deer blind sinking into the brush.Then the trees broke open, and there it was—
Circling around the back of her childhood home, she gazed up at her old bedroom window, already angling toward the gutter pipe.
It groaned under her grip—rusted, quivering, but still holding.Foot braced on the porch rail, fingers hooked in the damaged siding, she climbed, less sure than she once had been.Teetering at the window, she pressed the weak spot in the frame and blew out a breath of relief when the lock gave.Shoving it open, she slid inside and landed on the hardwood with a soft thump.
The floor creaked beneath her weight.Torn curtains fluttered against the window frame, stirring dust across faded green walls where moisture had bubbled the paint and split the plaster beneath.The room felt smaller than she remembered.
She dragged a fingertip along one shelf, leaving a streak in the dust.Her bow case had lived there once.Her books, too—everything lined up neat and just so, as if order might somehow hold the rest of her broken world together.
With a sigh, her gaze shifted to the wall beneath the window.Dropping to her knees, she worked her fingers along the rough edge of the baseboard until it gave.The wood creaked as she pried it loose, revealing the hidey-hole she’d carved behind it years ago.
Her hand closed around a small box, an old, half-empty pack of cigarettes.Her mouth twitched.Connor had smoked like a chimney but refused to let her—so she’d swipe his packs and hide them here.
Setting it aside, she reached back in and her fingers brushed a cassette.She drew it out slowly, old memories stirring.Dust coated the plastic, the paper label curled and discolored, but Connor’s crooked scrawl remained clear:WHEN YOU MISS HER.
He’d given it to her after their mama died.She didn’t know what was on it—she’d never listened.Couldn’t.She’d been too hurt, too broken.Even now, just looking at it made her chest tighten painfully.
Reaching in again, she patted around the small dusty space, her fingertips snagging a folded sheet of paper.Drawing it out, she was startled to see a familiar blocky handwriting across the front:Strawberry.
Blinking, she slowly unfolded it, the creases yellowed and soft with age.
Cas,
Tried calling you again today, but your number's disconnected.
Guess you changed it.
Don't figure I got the guts to ask Con for the new one.
Don't think he'd give it anyway.
Shit here ain't the same without you.
Keep thinking about the last time I saw you.
Didn't know it'd be the last,
and I said all that stupid shit instead of just holding you like you wanted.
Probably do a lot of shit different if I could—
A crash split the house.
Cassie jerked upright, head whipping toward the door.Her pulse spiking, she shoved the note into her pocket and eased into the narrow hall.Another sound carried up—low and uneven, like something pounding against the floor.Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Maybe an animal.A raccoon trapped and scrabbling.
On the stairs, the thumping continued.
