A black pickup was parked beneath the carport, so he rolled up and parked beside it. He got the house key out of his pocket, but as he headed toward the back door, the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but this house didn’t feel like it wanted him there. That was fair.

He didn’t want to be here, either, but a promise was a promise.

He unlocked the door and walked into the utility room just off the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. All of the furnishings were here. If it hadn’t been for the faint layer of dust all over everything, he could imagine his mom had just stepped out to run an errand and would be back soon.

There was a low spot in the middle of the kitchen floor—probably floor joist issues. The old hardwood flooring was scarred and worn, and the furniture was threadbare. The sight of this neglect made Hunt angry. How could his brothers and sisters let this happen? They were all right here in the same town together.

The year Hunt began high school, they’d remodeled the attic enough to call it a bedroom, and for the first time in his life, he’d had a room of his own. Curious to see what it looked like now, he went straight up the narrow stairwell at the end of the hall and opened the attic door. The single window was bare of curtains or shades, and the dust motes in the air stirred as he moved through the space now filled with boxes of old memories that should have been laid to rest years ago.

The bed he’d slept in was gone. The closet door was missing, the closet empty. Even the rod where his clothes used to hang was gone. It was as if they’d wiped away all memories of him. If only he’d been able to do the same.

He went back downstairs, glancing in his mother’s room and accepting it was the only one decent enough to sleep in, then began eyeing all of the things that needed repair.

He went back to the kitchen to check out the appliances. The burners on the gas stove lit, the oven came on. The dishwasher was clean, and the single glass in the top rack told him it had recently been in use and was likely in working condition—something he’d find out later.

The water pressure was good, and the washer and dryer appeared to be in working condition. The refrigerator was the newest appliance in the house, but nearly everything inside it needed to be thrown away. He didn’t know for sure how long his mother had been in the hospital, but the carton of milk was over a month out of date, and the single container of peach yogurt had long since expired.