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If I hadn’t drunk the party, then maybe none of it would’ve happened.

Maybe we both wouldn’t be so broken, and she wouldn’t be with that piece of shit husband of hers.

“Thanks for walking me back to my door and listening to me rambling.” I jerk open the door and step inside the building before he can say anything else or stop me.

But I’m not even certain he would consider when I peer over my shoulder, he’s already gone. And I’m relieved.

Mostly anyway.

“Just stop, Harper. You barely even know the guy,” I mumble to myself as I start up the stairs.

I pass by a couple of girls as I do and they eye me like I’m crazy, which is pretty justified, since I’m talking to myself.

I manage to keep my thoughts inside my head as I make my way down the narrow hallway and step into my dorm, the door clicking shut behind me. When I enter, Zayla is grabbing her purse from off the table in preparation to leave, I’m guessing.

“Hey, where’d you go…” She trails off as her gaze lands on me. Her eyes widen as she drops her bag onto the table and dashes over to me. “Oh my god, what happened to you?”

Her reaction confuses me at first, but then I remember that I’m dripping wet and I'm still wearing Wylder’s jacket, which dwarfs me.

“I was going to go visit my sister, but then she canceled on me.” Not a total lie. “When I was headed back inside, it started storming and someone I know saw me and gave me their jacket.”

She studies me with her eyes that are framed with purple eyeliner. “Who’s jacket is it?”

I scratch at my arm. “Um, I’m guessing by the look on your face that you already know the answer.”

A smile spreads across her face. “It’s Wylder’s, isn’t it?” She lightly smacks my arm.

“Hey, what’s the smacking?” I ask, unnecessarily rubbing my arm.

“Nothing. I’m just excited for you,” she tells me as she turns back toward the table. “I have to meet Trystan out front in like two minutes, but I so want to hear more about this when I get back later. Unless you end up going to Wylder’s get together. Then I guess we’ll talk about it in the morning.” She flashes me a grin as she slips the handle of her bag over her shoulder. Then she spins around to face me. “So what do you think?” She gestures at herself.

“You look hot,” I tell her. “But dude, it’s raining outside.”

“Yeah, so? Like I said, Trystan will have to give me his jacket like his friend did for you.” She waves at me as she starts for the door.

“Zay, please be careful…” I start but she’s already exiting.

Again, this gnawing sensation twists in the pit of my stomach. It’s stupid, though. I don’t even know Trystan. Wylder vouched for him, though. But I barely know Wylder. Why am I just taking his word?

Why am I so paranoid all the time? As if answering my own question, when I go online to do a search on drug rehabilitation centers in the area, an article about Ivy’s disappearance pops up in the local news section at the top.

I shouldn’t click on it. It’ll only worsen my anxious jitteriness that’s been plaguing me for days.

But not knowing might be worse, so I tap the headline.

New details on a local girl that went missing. Originally, law enforcement believed Ivy was last seen at a party located just off of the Fairfield University’s campus, but due to an anonymous tip, they now believe she was last spotted near Fairland Park a little after midnight. No further details have been released and officials are giving updates to the public.

If you have info about Ivy, please contact the Fairland Police Department.

She was last seen at the park?

A chill slithers down my spine as I picture Ivy, her dark hair blowing in the wind, her arms wrapped around her as she walks down the sidewalk in the dark, goosebumps sprouting her flesh. The trees loom in the distance, and the dirt is damp.

My fingers claw at it, a scream wanting to rip from my throat⁠—

“Stop,” I hiss to myself. “Stop thinking about it.”

But it’s all I can think about. Ivy walking alone, danger looking in the shadows. Only the longer I think about it the more her face morphs into Zoe’s.