Sienna

The creak of the door made my heart stop.

Dad stepped out of their room, rubbing his eyes. He was in a T-shirt and sweatpants, laptop tucked under one arm. “Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered to himself, heading downstairs. I crouched low against the hallway wall, barely breathing, watching his shadow stretch long under the dim light.

My palms were slick. One wrong move and everything would crash.

From behind Jaxon’s door, I imagined him standing there, tense, waiting. I could almost feel his eyes through the wood.

Dad’s footsteps padded down to the kitchen. A soft clink followed; the sound of water pouring into a glass. The fridge door...