Behind him, Bit hurries to catch up, falling into step a few paces back.
I glance at her, but she won’t meet my eyes—just presses her lips together like she’s holding something in.
Yeah.
This is definitely not good.
We start walking.
The house gets bigger with every step, details sharpening the closer we get.
The porch.
The railing.
The front door is hanging open.
I can see Angie now, standing near the top of the steps, dish towel still in her hands like she forgot what she was doing.
And there’s someone else.
A figure just off to the side.
Backlit by the porch light.
Still too far to make out clearly.
But something about the shape of her—because yeah, it’s a her—hits wrong.
Familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten before my brain can catch up.
I slow without meaning to.
Sawyer doesn’t.
He keeps moving, forcing me forward with him.
“Who is that?” I ask, my voice lower now.
He doesn’t answer.
Of course he doesn’t.
We hit the bottom of the steps.
Angie’s eyes flick to mine, something like sympathy flashing there before she looks away.
Bit hangs back.
And the woman—she shifts.
Steps forward into the light.
And the second I see her face?
Everything in me just stops.
Like someone reached inside my chest and crushed my lungs in one fist.
