Jessa

By the time Jackson finally walked through the door, I was halfway through loading the dishwasher, my hair piled in a messy bun on top of my head. It had been one of those evenings where the silence felt too loud, so I’d thrown myself into random chores just to keep busy.

The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of dishes. Mom was still at work, probably wouldn’t be home until after midnight, so it was just me, Jackson, and the steady ...