THIRTY-THREE | MYSTERY

“I can’t believe she’s dead.” I wrung my hands together, cracking my knuckles one by one. We’d failed her, and the guilt choked me. First Old Tim, and now Bethan.

I couldn’t help but feel as though this was some sort of twisted punishment for my indiscretions with Cyrus. We’d not kissed, not quite, but the intention was there, and it was clear. By the time I’d got home I’d received a text message from Harper, too, and I’d shut my phone off without so much as looking at it. 

I’d parked hurriedly, desperate to get inside, to speak to my Dads and find out what, exactly, had happened to Bethan. But once I’d turned off the engine I’d found myself unable to move, my legs turned to lead and my muscles stuck. 

I’d dropped my head against the cold steering wheel, bumping my forehead and narrowly avoiding the angry pink line down the side