No. Oh god. By the time I get there, it’s too late. The blood drains from my face. He’s read all the messages I sent, yet there’s no reply. Of course, there’s nothing because I’ve been a goddamn burden on his life ever since our worlds first collided. Except, I see something new. Raine has posted a new image on his page—the first one in who knows how long . . . at least a year, maybe more. And it’s us. It’s our photo. His tattooed hand covering mine, with our fingers interlocked and resting on top of the bedsheets. Beneath it sit five words that rob me of every breath and bring my heart
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