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“Ethan saw her car pull into your driveway yesterday, asswipe.”
Lyric was seen at my house, and now she was dead—overdosed, according to the article I clicked on. What if Ethan decided to tell other people what he saw? Not that he actuallysawanything, but I still didn’t want to think about the damage those rumors could do. My plate was piled full of shit already with Tatum and her brother.
Shit.Tatum.Lyric was her best friend. There was no way she hadn’t heard about this.
I imagined her body shaking with sobs until the sound disappeared and there was nothing left but the pain. This was the one thing I couldn’t protect her from, the one thing I couldn’t prevent.
I tossed my phone onto the comforter, no longer caring about Europe’s weather, and fell back onto my bed. She was alone, probably afraid, and I was leaving. How fucked up was that? I’d spent most of my life shielding her from the ugly. Well, death was about as ugly as it got, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. This was Fate’s twisted way of testing how far I would go to protect her. I had no doubt Malcolm meant what he said about sending her away, so I got up and pulled my suitcase out of my closet.
“Across an ocean,” I said out loud, as if Fate were waiting for an answer to her challenge.How far would you go to protect her?“I’d cross the ocean to keep her safe.”
Even if it meant hurting her in the process.
Tatum was strong. She would get through this.
She had to.
