I stepped closer, my pulse quickening. The door was closed, but now that I was near, I could hear it more clearly—the soft, uneven breaths, like she was swallowing her sobs, forcing them down so no one would hear.

A part of me wanted to knock. Call her name. Give her the space to say she was okay, even if we both knew she wasn’t. But another part of me—the part tangled up in worry, in dread—knew I couldn’t wait.

I didn’t knock, didn’t hesitate. I turned the doorknob, and there she was. Sitting on the tile floor of the shower, her body curled in on itself, arms wrapped around her legs, water pouring over her.

I didn’t need to touch it to know it was ice cold.

She didn’t even hear me come in.

“Beverly.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but it made her jump, her head snapping up. Her eyes were red, swollen from crying, and her hair plastered to her face in wet strands.

“Blake?” Her voice cracked as she tried to hide her pain.

I stepped forward, reaching past her to turn the water off.

She shivered, arms still locked around herself, staring at the floor like it held all the answers she didn’t have.

“Hey. Hey, B.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but my chest was tight, my pulse too fast. “Who made you cry?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her hands trembled as she wiped her face, trying to make the tears stop, but they kept coming. “I just—” She choked on a sob. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

A sharp ache spread from my chest to my throat. I’d never heard her sound so fragile before. This wasn’t Beverly—the girl who always kept it together, who smiled even when things were hard, who threw herself into fun and chaos and noise because she hated silence. Beverly was fire and motion and sharp wit.

This…this was someone lost. Someone drowning.

I crouched down, my hands hovering uncertainly at my sides.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her, but I wasn’t sure if she would let me. She seemed so breakable, like a delicate thing on the verge of shattering.

She shook her head, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes like she could make herself disappear.

No. Not happening.

“B,” I said softly, trying to make her hear me. “Talk to me.”

She let out a shaky breath, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I hesitated, then reached out, brushing wet hair away from her face. She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Her skin was freezing under my touch, sending a fresh, painful twist through my chest. “You can’t sit in here like this,” I said, softer this time. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”