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When people finally begin to disperse, I know that’s our cue.

“We should go before someone sees us.”

“Not yet,” she says, her eyes scanning the perimeter again, searching every face for Mr. Collins. “Come on. Where are you?”

“Sienna, we need to leave.”

“Just give me a minute.”

“He’s not here.”

“Max—”

“Sienna.”

Before I convince her that we’ve overstayed our welcome, a familiar voice calls out from somewhere among the mourners.

“Well, look who decided to show up.”

Goddamn it!

“You!” Delaney points straight at us, an ugly snarl twisting her lips. “What the fuck are you doing here? Haven’t you done enough?”

“Let’s go, Sienna,” I say, grabbing her by the arm before Delaney has time to reach us.

“Fuck. Fine,” Sienna grumbles.

Too late. She’s already on us.

“You have some fucking nerve showing your face here.”

Wait. Why is she only looking at me?

“We were just leaving,” I retort, tightening my grip on Sienna’s arm to steer us away from an irate Delaney.

Unfortunately, she hasn’t had her full say yet. And apparently, neither have the others.

Misty and Peyton break away from the remaining mourners and head straight for us.

Great. Just what this funeral needs. More drama.

“You’re a fucking curse on this town,” Delaney shouts after me.

That stops me in my tracks.

“I’m the curse?” A disbelieving laugh escapes me. “Me?”

“Yeah. You.” Her face twists with rage. “Ever since you came back, I’ve lost four friends. Four. You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”

This again?

First Amber. Now Delaney.

Apparently, grief has made everyone in this town lose their fucking minds.

I take a steadying breath and remind myself that the woman standing in front of me just watched one of her best friends get lowered into the ground.

I should give her some grace.