Deven wondered if knowing how things turned out, whether she would have done some things differently. Maybe one shift in the matrix could have adjusted that perfectly synchronized chain of events that ultimately led to Kennedy’s demise. Or maybe, just maybe the dominoes were already falling into place long before she opened her eyes that morning or accepted Justin’s dinner proposal. Even more nauseating, she had been so selfish as to be so preoccupied with sexing Justin while her poor sister lay dying. Deven bit her tongue to keep from sobbing out loud. She wouldn’t believe shit until she saw Kennedy for herself. Until then, she would cling to hope. That was all she could do.

“I didn’t know Kennedy did drugs.” Justin’s comment pierced the quiet. He probably hadn’t intended to sound so damn insensitive. Or maybe she was just extra emotional right then.

Deven turned to him, sure his peripheral could see her frowning at his profile. “She didn’t,” she snapped. She wouldn’t.

Justin didn’t seem offended by the tone. Or if he was, he didn’t let it show. “The officers said—”

“I know my sister.” Deven interrupted, her tone firm with agitation. She needed to believe that as much as he did. “She would never do drugs.”

Justin’s sigh was heavy, further heightening the palpable tension between them. “I just want you to be prepared for whatever we’re about to walk into, Dev. That’s all.”

And that’s where the blissful ignorance came in again. No one could ever be fully prepared for death. In no way, shape, or form. Of course, Justin wouldn’t know that. He was the youngest of three, both parents alive with all four grandparents either traveling or living comfortably in their million-dollar homes. As far as Deven knew, the closest Justin had come to experiencing death was his dog, a Rottweiler named Barlow that he had as a teenager.

Deven on the other hand, had to watch her father deteriorate from lung cancer, then her mother’s downward spiral as dementia corroded the mind left behind after the grief. And now she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her only sister.

Deven’s thoughts settled on her mom. She had good days and bad days, but which side of the mental impairment she received was a coin toss. What made it even more concerning was how she would receive the news that her youngest daughter had died. Would her mother’s mind be strong enough to even remember who Kennedy was? Sure, their relationship had been slightly estranged, but that didn’t diminish the bond, nor the pain. Deven would have to tell her, which meant trying to verbalize, and probably choking on, the words she couldn’t even bring herself to comprehend. That realization was pure torture.