Jesse

Waiting was worse than fighting.

I leaned back against the railing, arms crossed, eyes on the horizon where nothing had happened—yet.

“How long do we just… stand here?” Rain asked, flopping onto the porch swing like a bored kid.

“As long as it takes,” I muttered.

“That’s not a real answer,” he whined.

Matt sat on the steps, sharpening a knife that didn’t need sharpening. “It’s the only answer we’ve got.”

Rain groaned. “I’m going insane. Is that what ...