Gone.
I turned toward the door just as my parents walked in.
“I brought dinner—” my mom started.
“He wrote,” I said.
Everything stopped.
My dad leaned in. “Who?”
“Andrew.”
They read the messages in silence.
Then my dad swore under his breath.
“If I had known…” he muttered. “I would’ve gone to that house myself.”
And just like that, it hit me.
Not just what I lost.
What was taken.
We drove out that evening.
Two counties over. No plan. Just a name and an address.
Gwen opened the door before we knocked.
She had his face.
That nearly broke me.
“Heather?” she asked.
