Tyler's POV
I showed up at Eric's place like a ghost dragging my own guilt behind me. I didn't call. Didn't text. I just needed to see Anne look her in the eyes and say the words I should've said weeks ago.
The house was quiet, eerily so. It felt strange being back here, like revisiting a dream that had long turned sour.
Eric opened the door, shirt slightly wrinkled, hair tousled like he hadn't really slept. He looked at me for a second, then stepped aside.
"Come in."
We sat in the living room. The silence between us stretched like it had teeth.
It had been months since either of us had really called this place home.
Eventually, he brought out a bottlewhiskey, of course and poured us both a glass.
We drank. The burn settled in my chest, but it didn't help.
"I came to see Anne," I finally said, my voice low. "She around?"
Eric didn't answer right away. He just swirled his drink, staring at it like it might solve all our problems.
"She's gone."
I blinked. "Gone?"
