Ethan’s POV The quiet in this place isn’t peaceful. It’s loud in its own way. It presses in on me, follows me, sticks to my back like sweat. Every room feels wrong without her in it, like the house knows she left and hasn’t forgiven me for it. I don’t remember when I last slept through the night. I lie there staring at the ceiling most nights, phone on my chest, waiting for it to buzz. Waiting for a name that never shows up. When I do fall asleep, it’s shallow and stupid, the kind where you wake up feeling worse than before. My head hurts. My jaw hurts from grinding my teeth. My thoughts won’t shut the hell up. No leads. No calls. Nothing. Just silence. I’m standing in the kitchen, coffee going cold on the counter because I forgot it was there, when my phone finally rings. I grab it too fast, hope punching me right in the gut before I even check the screen. “Carter,” I say. “It’s Reynolds,” the detective says. That hope drops fast. “Tell me you found something,” I say anywa
Last Updated : 2026-01-20 Read more