Jessa

The house was too quiet for a Tuesday night.

Usually, by now, Mom was at the hospital pulling a double shift, and Jackson was glued to game film or out running drills with Noah. But tonight, the hum of the refrigerator was the only thing breaking the silence.

I sat at the kitchen table, my textbooks spread out in front of me. The words on the page blurred together — something about cellular respiration — but my mind was miles away.

Noah had barely spoken to me all day.

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