It’s okay, Ronnie told herself. She knew where Vanessa and Esme were going. She had tabs on them for the next few days. She pressed her hands to the window and told Esme she would see her soon. She had to pry Esme’s fingers from her own and give her a few extra hugs just to get her to calm down. “It’s okay, honey,” she said. “Spend time with Vanessa. It’s just a little trip. I’ll see you soon.”

Esme kept her gaze on Ronnie as Vanessa’s junky car drove off. It was almost too much to take. Ronnie was gripped with such sickness she felt like she couldn’t form a rational thought. Her whole life was gone. How on earth could Vanessa care for Esme? What was Ronnie supposed to do? What was she going to tell Lane?

Taking her phone in her trembling fingers, she dashed off a text to him, saying that she and Esme were taking a little trip up the coast for a few days for a breather. There. He’d be baffled, but that would buy her time, at least.

But time for what? To storm into the motel Vanessa was staying in and steal Esme back to her safe, calm life? Could she kill Vanessa? Ronnie gasped, horrified that the thought entered her mind. What was happening to her?

As if reading her mind, her phone rang. It was the police—again. Ronnie let the call go to voicemail. She was in no mood to give answers. She had to figure this out on her own.

Her heart started to pound. Her chest tightened in a way she’d never experienced, and her vision narrowed. She tried to breathe but found it impossible. Something was happening to her.

“Help,” she said weakly. Through blurred vision, she could see a sand-colored monstrosity two blocks away: Ventura Memorial Hospital. It had always comforted her that the hospital was close, in case Esme ever took a fall or got a high fever. Could she make it there? Ronnie took one step, then another, picturing her heart straining against its scaffolding inside her chest, overtaxed or maybe just broken.

She made it across an intersection. The sun beat down on her center part. A sharp pain in her side made her gasp, and then she fell sideways into a fence. “Miss?” A man’s face swam in front of her, his brow crinkled with concern. “Are you all right?”

Wheezing, Ronnie pointed at the hospital’s ER entrance. “I just need to . . . there.”

“Do you have anyone we could call?” the man asked. Ronnie shook her head. She wanted to call Vanessa. Bring Esme back. But she said nothing.

The double doors to the ER opened, and the cool air conditioning was a relief. She tried to breathe. The man leaned toward her. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”