Chapter 21 Chapter 20
Saturday mornings were supposed to be soft. Quiet. Fresh light through curtains and the kind of silence that rested the heart.
The Woods house never had that kind of silence.
Jace was snapped awake by the thud of something hitting the wall. Then another. Then Marvin’s voice echoing down the hallway as he tore through drawers like a wild animal searching for prey.
Jace’s jaw twitched.
He hated being woken up. Everyone in the house knew that. Even Marvin, who still chose to test the limits of his own life expectancy.
Another slam. Another curse.
Jace threw the blankets off and swung his legs over the bed, tension rolling through him like steel pulled tight. He marched to the door, gripped the handle, and yanked it open.
Marvin froze in the hallway with a hairbrush in his hand and a mirror propped on the wall. He looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing, irritation etched across his face. He looked ready to snap something smart or smug.
But one glance at Jace’s expression shut his mouth instantly.
Jace didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
He simply stepped into the hallway with that dangerous calm he had inherited from their mother the calm that meant someone was about to regret their life choices.
Marvin grabbed his jacket, swallowed, and muttered something that wasn’t quite an apology before rushing down the stairs.
Miss Carway peered over the railing from below, one hand pressed to her chest.
“Lord have mercy,” she whispered. “I’m getting too old for this.”
The quiet that followed felt like a fragile victory. Jace ran a hand through his hair, then headed to the kitchen. He pulled the carton of milk from the fridge and drank straight from it. Cold, simple, grounding.
He showered next, steam filling the bathroom, washing the tension off his skin. Then he went to the small home gym and pushed through a full workout, letting the anger burn itself into something cleaner.
By the time he finished, sweat sliding down his back, his breathing steadier… his phone buzzed.
He rarely cared to check messages he barely had contacts. But today he walked over, towel draped across his shoulders, and picked the phone up.
He hesitated just a moment.
Then he typed.
Hope your morning is better than mine.
He stared at it. Something about pressing send made his chest tight.
Then he pushed the button.
Somewhere across town, Cass Winfield’s morning was unraveling too.
Cass’ morning unraveling….
Cass was brushing her hair in the bathroom mirror when her mother started on her again.
“Are you planning to take the whole day in there? Honestly, Cass, you waste time like you have nothing useful to do.”
Cass closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, counting to three. Her mom had been riding that same sharp edge for months. Divorce did that. Loneliness did that. But knowing didn’t make it easier to swallow.
“I’m almost done,” Cass said softly, setting the brush down.
“Almost done,” her mother mimicked under her breath. “You’re going out again, I assume.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “You always say that, then disappear for hours. You need to be more responsible. This house is a mess.”
“It’s a mess,” Cass echoed quietly, “because you were up all night pacing.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Her mom glared at her for a moment, then sighed dramatically and walked off.
Cass pressed both hands to the counter and let her shoulders sag. She hadn’t slept much. Too many thoughts, too many worries, too many memories of her dad walking out with a suitcase and not looking back.
Her phone buzzed.
She grabbed it instantly, her heart needing the distraction.
Hope your morning is better than mine.
Jace.
Her breath caught. She leaned back against the sink and stared at the message.
Jace never started conversations. He wasn’t like Marvin. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t everywhere. He didn’t crowd people. He kept to himself, quietly existing in a world that demanded noise.
Cass smiled without meaning to.
She typed.
Barely surviving. You?