Did Cal show me what life is supposed to feel like?
Raw, messy, stunning, and incredible . . .
Absolutely.
And I just...left him behind. There wasn’t one grieving person on that floating rock, as he calls it. There were two.
I gained the most from our arranged forced proximity. Guilt and sadness sink heavy in my belly. I never should have left him. I should have fought for what we had instead of making that ridiculous promise to leave.
“Evie?”
“Yes,” I breathe, “he?—”
Tears stream down my face, and Livvy is folding me into a hug a second later.
“I just want you to be okay. To look forward to the life that’s yours if you want it,” she says softly.
“Even if I’m not writing fantasy?” I choke out.
She huffs a laugh. “Even then.”
Good people.
Livvy, Em, Iris, and Cal. Good people.
Somewhere, my bag vibrates. Livvy releases me and I move to the chair, tugging the bag from the floor where it sits. I fumble for my phone and pull it out.
The screen is lit up with a text from Iris.
Odd. Even though I’ve had her cell from day one, she’s only ever texted me once—on the night of the festival, when I was lured into the library for the late-night signing.
He went out on a call out and didn’t come back. I need you here.
He?
Cal?
What on earth?
I have been watching the weather on Google Earth since last night—I guess new habits die hard—and nothing significant has rolled in near Fire Island.
I tap the phone and call her.
It rings out. I try again.
No answer.
Something’s not right.
Thirty-Three
CALLUM
“Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.”
The radio squawks, echoing up the stairs and through my open bedroom door. I crack one eye open. It’s still pitch-black outside.
Dammit.
