Page 67 of The Pact
“No,” she whispers.
I can feel it more than I heard it.
Then she makes a small broken sound, and that cuts through the static.
Presley moves instantly, wrapping her arms around me the best she can from where she kneels.
I fold.
Not because I want to. But because my body can’t hold itself up anymore.
My forehead drops to her shoulder, and she holds me there, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other wrapped around my shoulders like she can keep me from falling apart by sheer force.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, voice cracking.
She’s crying. For my sister. For Chris. For me.
I sit there motionless in her arms.
No tears. No motion.
Shock.
Heavy, cold, and absolute.
I don’t remember leaving the office. Pieces, maybe, but not clearly.
I know Mr. Grant said he would handle everything with the team.
I remember Presley’s mother touching my face and kissing my cheek.
I remember Coach standing in the hallway, wrapping me in a hug.
Liam and Alie waiting in the hallway, offering to help in any way, hugging me.
But what I know for sure is that Presley was beside me the whole time. Her touch. Her soothing voice. Calm and steady.
“I’ve got him,” she told her parents.
Still, I can’t find words.
I blink and realize I’m in the passenger seat of my car. The world buzzing by beyond the glass. The sky is gray today. The trees are bare.
I notice the traffic lights and people carrying on with their day.
All normal, yet offensive to me at the same time.
I’m not sure anything will feel normal for me after today.
Presley drives with one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine across the console.
She doesn’t try to fill the silence, and I’m grateful for it.
I stare out the window, hearing Mr. Grant’s words on repeat in my mind.
“… flash flood … mudslide …”
“… blunt force trauma … died instantly.”
