BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (42)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. START READING
  5. PLAYLIST
  6. PROLOGUE
  7. PART 1
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. PART 2
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. EPILOGUE
  39. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  40. PREVIEW: PLAYING WITH FIRE
  41. PROLOGUE
  42. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“Too painful. Have a good life, Ever.” Joe slams his door shut behind him, in the car.

He drives away, taking whatever was left of my happiness with him.

PART 2

PART 2

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-ONE

It’s been three weeks since Dom’s funeral, and I’m still in my bed.

Three weeks since I drove Dad and Renn to the airport. Before they boarded their plane, Dad hugged me and told me, “My door’s always open, kiddo. I think you need some time off from Massachusetts.”

Three weeks since my heart soared, because I knew he meant it.

Three weeks since Nora started living in our apartment full-time because she is worried for me.

Three weeks since Colt had a fit about it, then apologized to both of us.

Three weeks since I changed my sheets and went grocery shopping and took a shower.

I’m not always in my bed. Sometimes I get up to answer the DoorDash delivery person, as indicated from the mountains of takeout dishes littered around me. I sometimes go to the bathroom. I feed and water Loki religiously. But mostly, I’m in my bed.

The day after the funeral, I quit both my jobs without notice. Jenine, my boss, seemed understanding. Then again, the option not to be understanding was taken away from her. I lost my fiancé. I deserve a free pass.

Nothing really anchors me to Salem anymore. I don’t have a job, or friends, or an affiliation with this place. Salem is soaked with Dom’s presence. The city, in itself, is an open wound for me. Case in point—I don’t leave the house anymore.

But then San Francisco is a reminder that my mom died. I can’t stand either of these places right now. But I have to exist somewhere. Currently, though, the easiest thing to do is . . . well, to not-do anything.

Since I’m too distracted to watch TV and read books, I mainly spend my time going over Dom’s social media accounts, holding on to the remainders of him. There’s not much there. Dom wasn’t big on social media. I keep staring at his three Instagram pictures over and over again. I get into the comments section. Check the profiles of all the people who liked them. That’s how I find Sarah’s Instagram profile. It’s public but scanty. There’s one photo there of her and Dom smiling at each other in a nightclub. I notice that Dom liked and commented on her photos until his very last day alive.

Two days before he died, he liked a picture of her and commented with a string of hearts. Presumably, he already knew he was going to propose to me.