I swivel directions and head toward her bedroom. Then I smell it. That… It’s Drake’s cologne. I’d be able to pick it out in a crowd because I’m the one who got him his first set. He loves it and douses it on liberally wherever he goes. My fingers tighten on the bag of strawberries and grapes. The rustling sound is soft, like the wind rushing through the trees, but the groaning that comes from Sasha’s room is loud. And breathy. And way too low to be a sign of pain. It finally dawns on me. What I heard outside—the sound that made me barge into my sister’s place uninvited—was not an ‘I’ve fallen
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