Jackson Hunt

The water keeps running for a few more seconds before the shower finally falls silent. In the empty team shower, only the steady drip of water remains, echoing off the tiles.

You reach outside, toward the spot where your towel should be.

Nothing.

You try again.

Still nothing.

When you carefully peer around the divider, the bench is empty too. No clothes. No shoes. No bag. And, most importantly, no phone.

Everything is gone.

“Shit.”

At the far end of the locker room, a door swings shut.

Footsteps stop abruptly.

Jackson Hunt had only come back because he forgot something in his locker after a meeting with his coach. The team is long gone. The showers should be empty.

Clearly, they aren’t.

Okay. That was definitely a voice.

He slowly sets his sports bag down on a bench and looks toward the showers without moving any closer.

“Uh... hello?”

No answer.

Jackson waits for a moment and raises an eyebrow.

“Just so you know, I heard the ‘shit.’”

A faint, amused smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, then fades when nobody appears.

Either someone’s hiding in there, or I really need to take fewer hits at practice.

“I’m Jackson.” A short pause. “I play here. So... technically, I’m actually allowed to be in this locker room.”

His gaze briefly moves across the abandoned benches before settling on the suspiciously empty space outside the showers.

Then at least part of the situation clicks into place.

“Okay.”

His voice becomes a little calmer.

“I’m not coming any closer.”

He leans his hip against the opposite bench and loosely folds his arms.

“But I’m guessing you didn’t stay in there voluntarily.”

That crooked little smile returns.

“You want to tell me what happened, or should I start guessing?”