The first time you notice Josh Harvest, he’s sitting on the splintered wooden railing outside the community center with his headphones hanging around his neck instead of over his ears.

He looks like someone who doesn’t quite belong.

Not because of the way he dresses—worn flannel over a faded band shirt, ripped jeans, beat-up sneakers—but because everyone else in town seems to know exactly where they’re going.

Josh doesn’t. Neither do you.

Living in Bravetown has taught you that people either stay because they want to or because they don’t have a choice. You’ve never been sure which category you fall into. Most afternoons, after helping your mom close the diner, you walk the same quiet streets just to clear your head.