Chapter Three: Echoes Between Walls
The house was dark when Eddie pulled into the driveway.
Evette's car was there--same spot as always--but no lights on inside. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe still soaking in the tub, winding down from one of those extra-long shifts Brittany had scheduled.
His hand lingered on the truck key before cutting the engine. The silence that followed was deafening.
Eddie opened the front door quietly, stepped out of his shoes at the threshold, and moved through the hallway like a man walking through someone else's house.
Their house smelled like vanilla and fresh laundry. Safe smells. Familiar. The walls were decorated with snapshots of their life: wedding photos, beach trips, family. He stopped in front of one--the two of them in Destin, wind whipping through Evette's auburn curls, her arms wrapped around his waist, laughing like she didn't have a care in the world.
His gut twisted.
From down the hall, he heard the sound of water dripping. The bathroom door was cracked open. Steam clung to the air.
She was awake.
"Hey," he called gently.
Evette's voice came back soft. "Hey, babe. I was just about to get out."
Eddie moved to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Took out a beer and shut the door.
He leaned against the counter, bottle in hand, the cool glass a weak anchor against everything burning beneath his skin.
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