Sienna

Later that afternoon, the house fell into that slow, sleepy quiet that comes after a long morning. Mom and Dad were still out, and Jaxon had disappeared somewhere—probably in the garage again, pretending to fix something just so he wouldn’t have to think.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, the soft hum of music playing from my speaker, and pulled out my journal from the nightstand. The leather cover was worn at the edges now, pages filled with scribbles of thoughts I could never say out ...