Chapter 4

I woke up to the sound of hammering downstairs and the smell of coffee brewing. For a moment, I forgot where I was—the pink walls and boy band posters bringing reality crashing back. Declan's side of the bed was empty, the covers pulled neat despite the cramped quarters we'd shared.

Downstairs, I found him in the kitchen with Dad, both of them nursing steaming mugs. Dad was gesturing toward the back door, his weathered hands sketching out some kind of plan.

"Morning, sweetheart," Dad said, barely glancing up. "I was just telling Declan here about the firewood situation. Storm last…