She threw back the covers.
This was probably ridiculous. This was almost definitely an overreaction. Raven was fine. Of course she was fine.
But… but what if she wasn't?
Annabelle couldn't just lie here wondering. She couldn't just assume everything was okay when her gut was screaming at her that something was wrong.
She grabbed her dressing gown, shoving her arms through the sleeves as she hurried down the stairs. Her heart was hammering now, her breath coming quick and shallow. She told herself she was being silly, told herself she was overreacting, told herself that Raven was going to answer the door looking annoyed and ask what the hell she wanted.
But she couldn't shake the fear.
She burst out of her front door into the cool night air, not bothering with shoes, just running across the grass in her slippers. Raven's cottage was dark except for one light in what Annabelle thought might be the living room.
She reached the door and pounded on it. Hard.
"Raven?" Her voice came out higher than she'd intended. "Raven, are you there?"
Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time, panic rising in her chest.
"Raven, please! If you're in there…"
Still nothing. No sound. No movement. Just silence.
She banged on the door again, properly scared now.
"Raven!"
No answer.
Chapter Eighteen
Raven had been staring at Alissa's Instagram for three hours straight.
It was pathetic, really. Utterly pathetic. But she couldn't seem to stop scrolling through the carefully curated grid of photos: Alissa and her new husband at some trendy restaurant, Alissa in the studio with producers Raven didn't recognize, Alissa looking impossibly happy in every single frame.
The latest post was from yesterday. A selfie of Alissa with the caption:Found my person. Found my peace.
Three million likes.
Raven had stared at it until the words blurred, until her eyes burned, until her laptop battery warning flashed at fifteen percent. Then she'd kept staring anyway, because apparently self-destruction was her new hobby.
The comments were even worse. Thousands of people congratulating Alissa, telling her she deserved happiness, sayinghow beautiful she looked. A few mentioned Raven, mostly variations of "good riddance" and "upgrade."
She'd finally passed out on the couch around eleven, laptop still balanced on her chest, Alissa's smile burned into her retinas.
Then pounding on her door jolted her awake.
For one disoriented moment, she thought she was back in London, that it was paparazzi or a crazed fan or maybe just Claire showing up unannounced. Then she registered the familiar ceiling of her Bankton sitting room, the empty beer bottles on the floor, and her laptop sliding off her chest as she sat up.
The pounding intensified.
"Christ," Raven muttered, stumbling to her feet. Her neck ached, her mouth tasted like ash, and she was still wearing yesterday's clothes. "I'm coming!"
What the hell was this about? Probably escaped sheep or an impromptu maypole dance or something equally ridiculous.
She yanked open the door, ready to tell whoever it was to piss off.
