But he was wrong. Sure, I had Bell and Caelyn, but they each had their own lives, their own families. Harriet had been my person. We’d built our own little two-person family. And now, it was gone.

“You have so many people in your corner, you don’t even see it. Bell and Ford. Caelyn and those crazy kids.” He paused for the briefest of moments. “Me. You’re going to get through this.”

Every person Crosby listed felt a million miles away right then. As if I couldn’t reach them no matter how hard I tried.

“None of us are going anywhere. We’re gonna walk with you through this. You’ll never be alone.”

I stepped out of his hold, doing my best to shake off the warmth that had spread through me at the touch, the comfort. Because at some point, he would leave. They all would. That’s what people did, no matter what they wanted or promised. There was only one certainty in life: people left.

I rolled over, but instead of meeting the mattress, I hit another body.

Caelyn let out a little groan. And it all came flooding back. Why Caelyn was lying on the other side of my queen bed, and Bell was curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor. Because Harriet was gone. A sob attempted to break free, and my body shook with the force of trying to hold it back.

“Oh, Kenna.” Caelyn’s arms were around me in an instant, the feel of them as familiar as my favorite slippers. But I didn’t want her touch, didn’t want the pain in me to ease. I took it anyway, knowing that rejecting her comfort would only hurt her.

Bell shot up. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” She took in the two of us and pushed to her feet, climbing into the too-small bed and throwing her arms around us both. “I’m so sorry.”

I was really starting to hate that word. I swallowed back my sobs, locking down my muscles so that none could escape. It was the only way my friends would release me. And if they didn’t, I was going to scream. Finally, they let go, and I took a deep breath, pushing myself up against the pillows.

I’d forced the tears down, but the memories of yesterday were on an endless loop. The concerned faces and quiet tones. The news that Harriet had suffered a stroke in her sleep, that it would’ve been painless and instant. That no one could’ve done anything to stop it.