Chapter 1

Ryan's POV

"Where are you?" I asked.

"On the way to my place. Mel said it wasn't safe for me to go home alone," came the reply. "Oh, and she said she texted you half an hour ago telling you to grab a cab home on your own. Ryan, you're probably home by now, right?"

The wind howled outside the window. My chest went cold, inch by inch.

For three years, Melanie had poured every ounce of care she had into this coworker of hers. And now, the last scrap of feeling I had left for her had burned out completely.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm home."

A home that would never have her in it again.

The man on the phone sounded relieved. "Good, you're home. We'll be there soon too.

"The hurricane's about to make landfall, though. Mel wanted me to let you know she'll probably be staying over at my place tonight."

I gave a flat, noncommittal "hm."

A woman's voice came through from somewhere in the background, distant but unmistakably tender. "Are you cold? Should I turn up the heat?"

Ted Rooney laughed. "It's summer!"

Right. It was summer.

But I felt cold clear through, a chill that reached into my bones.

The call ended. I stared at our chat log. There was no message telling me to grab a cab home. Maybe she really had sent one and it just hadn't gone through. Either way, it meant that after typing it, she hadn't so much as glanced back at our conversation.

She used to be different. When we first started dating, she was glued to her phone every waking minute she wasn't in class or asleep. She'd text me about the smallest things, even a stray dog barking at her on the sidewalk.

And she always replied to me within seconds. She used to say she couldn't stand missing a single message from me, that she was afraid she wouldn't know right away if I ran into trouble.

Now, someone else was the one she worried about.

Something bitter crept up from the deepest part of my chest. The wind howling outside felt like a hand closing around my heart, squeezing it again and again.

At six, the hurricane made landfall. And I was stuck alone at the office.

I went into the break room and shut the door tight, then texted my parents, who were in another city, to let them know I was fine.

They asked: [You're with Mel, right?]

I thought about it for a second, then just answered: [Yeah.]

The phone screen went dark, and the room fell back into blackness. It was quiet enough to hear nothing but the wind and rain outside.

Then the screen lit up again, and my heart jumped. I grabbed it almost without thinking.

But a second later, my hope fell flat. It was just an emergency alert from the city. The last line read: [Please stay indoors with your family and stay safe. The storm may be severe, but we'll get through it together.]

On social media, everyone was going on about how strong the storm was while posting photos of their dinner.

My stomach growled. I realized I hadn't eaten a thing all evening. I dug up a bag of crackers in the break room and ate them while scrolling through the food photos on my feed.

Then my thumb stopped on a familiar profile picture with a caption that said: [My coworker's cooking is so good, it's ruining my appetite for anything else.]

The photo showed a spread I recognized well: roast chicken, glazed carrots, and a pot of tomato soup—Melanie Hayman's specialty. In the shot, only her hand showed, two fingers thrown up in a peace sign.

She used to tell me that in her whole life, the only people she'd ever cook for were her parents and me. Turns out her "whole life" had an expiration date after all.

I liked the post, then left a comment underneath.

[Maybe you should just make her your girlfriend.]

A minute later, a message from Melanie came through.

[Ryan, do you think that's funny?]

Funny? Was what they were doing not a whole lot funnier than that?

She'd opened our chat, but she hadn't noticed the message that never sent. She hadn't asked where I was either.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I was just about to tell her I'd never left, that I was alone at the office right now, when a violent crashing sound tore through the air outside.