Beckett Sometimes the quiet moments were the most dangerous. Not because they were dramatic. Because they gave me time to think. Practice had ended an hour ago, and for once I wasn’t rushing anywhere. Sean had gone home with Tyler, Mason had soccer practice with Mom, and the house felt strangely empty. I should’ve been studying. Coach had already reminded us twice this week that grades still mattered, and midterms weren’t exactly optional. Instead, I found myself wandering. Again. My feet seemed to have developed a habit of making decisions without asking permission first. Before I knew it, I was standing on the sidewalk between our houses, hands shoved into the pockets of my hoodie, staring across the small stretch of grass that separated my front porch from Ella’s. The lights were on inside her living room. I could see movement through the curtains. For the first time in weeks, that sight didn’t come with panic. It came with something softer. Comfort. The realization
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