Chapter 7

Ollie's POV

“Anywhere,” the quieter girl, Kylah says softly.

There’s something resigned in the way she says it that makes my stomach sink slightly.

“She’s lived here her whole life. Even if we wanted to find her, it’d be nearly impossible.”

Beside her, Anya is aggressively pacing under the awning outside the bar, repeatedly calling Meghan with absolutely no success.

“Pick UP,” she snaps at the phone before pulling it away and immediately redialing. “I swear to God if she’s crying somewhere alone—”

“Eliana,” I say quietly, glancing toward Shane before looking back at the girls, “why don’t we walk home with you?”

Anya’s head whips around so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash.

Absolutely not, her glare says before her mouth even opens.

But before she can unleash whatever verbal assault she clearly has prepared, Eliana cuts in smoothly.

“That’d actually be nice,” she says.

“Seriously?” Anya groans.

“Anya,” she says firmly, giving her a look. “You know Meghan. She’ll come back when she’s ready. She’s smart.”

Anya mutters something under her breath but doesn’t argue further, still clutching her phone like she’s prepared to personally fight Meghan when she reappears.

So we start walking.

Rain drizzles steadily around us, the city quieter now compared to the chaos of the bar. Streetlights reflect gold across wet sidewalks while the girls walk slightly ahead of us, shoulders brushing together naturally.

And slowly, I realize we’re heading toward our neighborhood.

I glance at Shane. He notices too.

Small world.

Or maybe not.

Shane spends most of the walk beside Kylah, who starts out quiet but eventually relaxes enough to answer his questions. I catch bits and pieces, classes, Boston weather, complaints about their building elevator sounding haunted.

Anya keeps shooting me suspicious looks every few minutes like she’s waiting for me to reveal secret serial killer tendencies.

Eliana mostly watches all of us with amused exhaustion.

But me?

I barely hear any of it.

Because every street we pass, every alley, every dark corner, my senses keep searching for her automatically.

Looking.

Waiting.

It’s distracting enough that I don’t even realize we’ve reached our block until Shane nudges my shoulder lightly.

I blink, looking up.

Our apartment building sits half a block behind us.

Yet the girls keep walking another two streets before turning toward a massive apartment complex with warm lights glowing behind tall windows.

We stop outside near the entrance.

I shove my hands into my pockets, already preparing to tell them goodbye despite every instinct screaming against leaving before knowing Meghan’s okay.

“Thanks for letting us walk with you,” I say.

And to my complete surprise, Anya speaks first.

“Come up.”

I blink once.

She points at me accusingly before adding, “Not because I’m suddenly your biggest fan or anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Shane mutters.

She ignores him completely.

“But,” she continues reluctantly, “you’re obviously worried about her. So… we can wait upstairs together.”

For a second, I just stare at her.

Then at the building entrance behind her.

Then back at her.

And weirdly enough—

For the first time since Meghan disappeared into the rain, the tightness in my chest eases just slightly.