Chapter 2

Nate brought takeout home after midnight.

He put it on the counter while smiling at something on his phone.

“Why aren't you answering anybody? They're worried.”

I'd left the chat two hours earlier. Nobody had noticed.

“We're done,” I said.

He looked up.

“Seriously? Over this?”

“Yes.”

“You chose to go in.”

Dean had said he was unconscious. Bleeding. I had run toward the thing that frightened me most because someone I loved might need me.

Now the person I'd done it for was explaining why it was my fault.

“Was it funny?” I asked.

Nate sighed. “You were making everyone feel bad before we even started.”

Four years ago, he'd packed away his horror collection because the covers gave me nightmares. He had walked me to my door after every date, no matter how late it was.

He bought me a little bedside lamp with a timer. When we moved in together, he turned it on every evening and brought me tea.

He still did those things. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten why.

“Are you leaving, or am I?”

“I'll give you a couple of nights to cool off.”

He packed a bag, relieved to have found a version of the argument in which nothing had really changed.

Usually, Dean would call the next day. Kelsey and Wyatt would follow. If I was wrong, they explained why. If Nate was wrong, they explained why it wasn't worth being upset about.

This time, I didn't want the hearing.

An old coworker sent screenshots after Nate left.

Kelsey had posted him on her Close Friends story, with me excluded.

Poor guy got kicked out. Guess I'm running a shelter now.

There were older posts, too. Four best friends. A separate group chat. Gifts I'd thought Nate was buying for me.

I sat on the couch while a familiar tightness spread through my chest.

After last Halloween, the doctors had diagnosed cardiomyopathy with dangerous rhythm problems. I had taken the medication. Kept my appointments. Tried to believe everyone had learned.

When the symptoms didn't settle, I called for a ride to the ER.