It was the place where Eleanor kept the framed photos of Derek’s football team while my academy appointment letter stayed folded in a kitchen drawer.

There would be no more polite holiday dinners, no more quiet checks written in secret, and no more waiting for a phone call that was never going to come.

I walked back to the bed and stood beside the wooden nightstand.

I laid the brass lake house key flat on the dark wood of the nightstand, right next to my silver class ring.

The academy green room smelled of floor wax and six-dollar coffee from the hotel lobby.