Page 151 of What We Bury

“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s a rough patch. Couples have those.” She slings the bag over her shoulder. “But—I think . . . I’m going to start staying in my own bed again. Here. I’ll tell him that. Soon. I need my own space for a bit.” A wobbly smile. “I miss my own pillows. And my unhinged roommate.”

It’s not nothing. It’s a crack of daylight under a closed door. I’ll take it.

“Good,” I say. “I’ll fight Tyler for custody if I have to. I’m scrappy and I have nothing to lose.”

She laughs, wet and grateful, and pulls me into a hug that’s too tight and goes a beat too long, her chin hooked over my shoulder. She smells like Beanwerks and the perfume she always wears.

“Love you, bestie,” she says into my hair.

“Love you too. Call me. Text me. I’ll be here.”

“I will.”

She won’t, probably. But she’s gone before I can say anything more—the door clicking shut, her footsteps quick down the hall—and the apartment closes around me, quiet, with two lattes going cold on the table and the throb of my own bitten lip.

I stand there a while.

Then I pick up my phone, open the group chat Milo named over every one of my objections—Kitten’s Hangmen—and type before I can talk myself out of it.

Me:

random question. should I be worried about Tyler?

The reply comes fast enough that I know at least one of them has been sitting on his phone.

Milo:

we’re already looking into him, kitten. why? everything okay?

I look at the door Amy just walked out of. At the latte she left behind.

Me:

I’m okay. just worried about Amy.

Three dots. Stop. Start again. Then a new name slides into the thread.

Micah:

then we’ll keep an eye out for her too. promise.

And God help me, that promise helps. It shouldn’t. I know exactly what these men do when they decide somebody’s a problem.

I picture Tyler grinning behind his sunglasses, and something ugly uncoils in my gut.

Then I picture him at the end of a rope.

That probably says something terrible about me. But I don’t have time to analyze it before a fresh message drops in.

Holden:

Tell me exactly what happened.

Another.

Knox:

Start at the beginning.