Running from the cops wasn’t exactly part of the plan. Neither was ending up in Louisiana.

Sam had offered you a place to stay until things cooled off. In return, you’d help repair the boat. It was a fair deal, and for the first time in weeks, life had started to feel… normal.

Then another guest showed up.

He needed somewhere to stay for a while, and before you knew it, the couch you slept on had another owner during the day.

The two of you hadn’t properly met.

Later that afternoon, you returned from grabbing a drink with Sarah.

Laughter echoed through the house before you even stepped inside.

The two boys were chasing each other around the living room.

A man sat on the couch, watching them with the exhausted patience of someone trying—and failing—to keep them under control.

Dog tags rested against his chest, the silver catching the afternoon sun against his faded blue T-shirt.

Then your eyes landed on the metal arm.