Stillwanted.
I remember reading the letter a second time. A third. I remember my eyes burning, my throat tight.
And then I wrote her back.
I wrote like I was bleeding through the page. Told her everything I couldn’t say out loud. How dark it got some days. How I kept a list in my head of all the reasons I needed to make it home—and her name was at the top.
I remember walking across the base, letter in hand, heart pounding like I’d just run five miles.
I dropped it in the mail slot.
And for the first time that week, I breathed.
Because of her.
It was always her.
Even when she was just a voice on paper. A stranger with ink-stained fingers and dreams too big for her tiny life.
Even then—I lived for her.
Chapter Eleven
Holly
He’s gone.
For a full day now.
No note. No message. No gruff voice telling me to lock the back door or not touch his damn drill press. Just silence.
Jack Rivers vanished, and I don’t know if it’s because I broke him—or because he realized he was never supposed to stay.
The town’s too small for secrets. Especially ones that look like Jack.
Fox shows up at lunchtime, knocking on the front door with two brown paper bags and his usual thousand-yard stare. "He told me to make sure you didn’t starve."
I try to thank him.
He just grunts, sets the bags on the counter, and disappears without a word.
That evening while I’m making dinner, the kitchen faucet explodes.
Finn shows up fifteen minutes later, toolkit in hand and a sheepish grin. "Jack told me last month the pipe was ready to go. Figured you might need a hand if he?—"
"If he what?"
Finn hesitates. Scratches the back of his neck. "If he was too stubborn to fix it before he blew off steam."
"Is that what this is?" I ask, voice flat. "Steam?"
Finn’s eyes flick up to mine. Something heavy sits behind them. "He’s not running fromyou,Holly. He’s running from the weight of time. The shit he missed. The fact that he’s not sure how to carry it now that it’s in his hands."
I nod. Not because I understand—but because I’m too tired to argue.
After dinner, Grady shows up. No tools. No groceries. Just him and his easy charm, leaning against the porch railing while Josie stacks pebbles beside the steps.
"You holding up?"
