One week. Beach town in South Carolina. I’d been planning it for months.
I left Daisy with Caleb. Locked up the house. Told nobody where I was going except Caleb and my sister.
Seven days of ocean, sunburn, and not thinking about work or neighbors or anything.
When I pulled into my driveway on Sunday afternoon, the first thing I noticed was the view.
Too much view.
I could see straight across my backyard into Ethan’s patio. Into his yard. Into spaces I’d never seen before because my fence had always blocked them.
I got out of the truck slowly. Walked to the backyard.
The fence was gone.
Not fallen. Not damaged. Gone.
Every post pulled. Every panel removed. The property line was bare except for the holes in the ground where the concrete footings had been.
My fence—the one I’d built with my own hands, the one I’d spent weekends on, the one that had stood for eight years—was completely gone.
I stood there for a long time. Too long. Just staring at the empty space.
Then I walked to Ethan’s house. Knocked on the door.
