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“I don’t know… a hair?”

“Needs to have the root to matter. So unless you were yanking at your hair while driving his car, you should be okay.”

“You won’t say—”

“Don’t insult me, dude. Whatever this past year was doesn’t matter. You’re still my best friend.”

“Thanks. I… I’m starting to freak out.”

“So unlike you. What’s really going on? Who’s the girl?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Isn’t it always with you? Can’t have a simple, low-key life, Reeves. When do you leave for California?”

“In two weeks.”

“Maybe you should move that up to this weekend.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead. Oh wait, that’s not funny, is it?”

I stare at the texts I sent Emma after I got off the phone with Collin yesterday. And the ones from this morning after I got back from the police station. None of them were answered.

This isn’t me pining like an idiot, worried I’ll never hear from her again. I’m legitimately worried. The police found me. I want to warn Emma before they show up to ask her more questions… wherever she is. Because she’s already on record reporting an assault.

I’m not making another spontaneous appearance at Evan’s. Learned that lesson. And surprisingly, Sara’s address isn’t easy to find. I don’t even know her last name, and there isn’t enough time to figure it out.

I blow out a breath and call Emma again.

“Hello?”

“Emma?” Holy shit. Finally! “Where are you?”

“I’m at Decatur Street unfortunately, but it’s the only place I—”

That’s the last place she should be. Dammit. She might as well be hanging out in Mick’s parking lot.

“Emma, there’s something” —an alarm suddenly starts screeching in the background— “I need to tell you.”

“Shit! Hold— here you.”

I have no idea what she just said. When the alarm finally quiets, I tell her, “You need to leave the house. It’s not safe for you to be there.”

She doesn’t respond.

I check my screen—the call’s disconnected. I try her again, but it goes straight to voicemail. Her phone must’ve died.

I grab my keys and start down the stairs. Screw it. I’ll explain when I get there.

Emma’s car’s in the driveway when I pull in. The house looks different in the springtime—sunnier if that’s possible. Maybe with Rachel gone, it’s finally at peace. The door’s open, allowing the warm air to filter through the screen door.

“Emma?” I call out as I enter.

The sound of water running draws me to the kitchen. Emma spins around, her cheeks flushed with color. I’m speechless for a full minute. This is definitely not what I was expecting.

“Wow. You look beautiful.”