That greeting would never change.
Jenna’s phone was probably destroyed in the fire, but somewhere, on some server, that greeting still existed. Would keep existing. Would play for anyone who called that number until Jenna’s parents—oh God, Jenna’s parents—until someone canceled the account.
Leave me something fun.
The last thing Alyssa had left her was a warning that had failed to save her life.
The sound that came out of her throat wasn’t something she’d ever made before. It wasn’t crying, it wasn’t a scream, it was something in between that hurt. Her knees buckled, giving up. She was trying to hold on to the table, but her hands wouldn’t grip right and?—
Arms.
Mack’s arms caught her before she hit the floor, guiding her down, his body sure and solid. She was on her knees on the kitchen floor, and he was kneeling next to her. His hand landed gently between her shoulder blades.
“Breathe.” His voice, close to her ear, was firm and commanding. “Lyssa. Breathe in. Now.”
She couldn’t.
He stroked her upper back. “Count with me. In for four. One…two…”
She dragged air in. It hurt. Everything hurt.
“Good. Hold it. Now out, nice and slow.”
She was crying. When had she started crying? The tears were hot and too many. She couldn’t see through them, couldn’t stop them, couldn’t do anything except make these horrible sounds that wouldn’t stop coming.
Jenna was dead.
Jenna was dead.
Her best friend. Her roommate. The person who’d moved here with her on an adventure, who’d made everything brighter just by being in the room, who’d texted her last night.
The text.
Oh God, the text.
Have fun at the fancy party! Draw me something pretty. She’d added three heart emojis.
Alyssa had read it while getting ready. Had sent back a quick will do and hadn’t thought about it again because she’d been running late, worried about the weather, and distracted by her own life.
That was the last text Jenna Lopez would ever send.
Draw me something pretty.
Alyssa was sobbing now, the kind of crying that was loud and ugly and came from somewhere she couldn’t control. It raked her ribs and her throat and made her sound like an animal. She’d never cried like this. Not when her grandparents died. Not when she’d called off the wedding. Not ever.
She was vaguely aware of Mack drawing her to him. Of him not saying anything and not trying to stop her or calm her down now. He didn’t tell her it would be okay. He was just—there. Solid. Present. Holding her.
She didn’t deserve this.
She’d walked away from him. Had broken his heart and her own. Now she was falling apart on his kitchen floor.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out broken, fractured by sobs. She pulled away, hating the lack of his embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry?—”
“Don’t apologize.” He grabbed a box of tissues from the counter and handed them to her, resuming his place on the floor.
“I can’t…” She plucked tissues from the box, wiped at the tears. Her voice hiccuped. “I can’t stop.”
“You don’t have to stop.” His voice was steady, soothing. “Just let it all out.”