Vanessa saying oh. Her asking if I was relieved. My answer. Declan’s voice last night. Roman telling me not to apologize and then keep doing the same thing. Olivia, whose face I barely knew and whose life I had still helped damage. Aspen. The receipt in my hand. Did I sign the receipt? I had. Did I leave my card? No. Wallet? Phone? Keys?
I patted my pockets anyway.
Wallet. Phone. Keys.
My chest wouldn’t expand right.
I started the car.
Then turned it off because I had no idea where to go.
Home.
No.
Home was too quiet and too loud at the same time. Laundry in the washer that probably smelled because I’d forgotten it twice. Dishes in the sink. Too many pillows Vanessa had bought because mine looked, in her words, like “college boy sadness.” My charger across the room because I’d tossed it yesterday and then spent twenty minutes looking for it this morning. The ceiling waiting for me to stare at it while my brain built new ways to hate myself.
Roman.
I should call Roman. I’d promised him alive or not alive.
My thumb hovered over his name.
I couldn’t.
Not because I didn’t trust him. I did. More than almost anyone.
But I could already feel it. Me talking too fast, giving him pieces in the wrong order. Roman going quiet in that goalie way, making room. Room was dangerous right now. Room let thoughts multiply.
I didn’t want room.
I wanted weight.
A hand at the back of my neck. A voice with edges. Something steady enough to tell my body where it stopped.
The parking lot lights were too bright. A couple walked past laughing, and the sound scraped across my nerves. My phone screen lit up with notifications I couldn’t process. Maybe Vanessa had already posted something. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe people knew. Maybe nobody knew. Maybe Tessa wouldhave a crisis plan in her drafts by morning with her calm face and spreadsheet voice. Maybe Declan would look at me at practice tomorrow and I’d crack open in front of the whole team.
Too many tabs.
Too much sound.
Too much me.
I opened Declan’s contact.
My hand shook hard enough that I hit the wrong letter twice.
Then I typed one word.
Amber.
I sent it and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat like it had burned me.
The call came before I managed one full breath.
Declan.
Not a text.
