All I could think was that he wasn’t dead. It was a mistake.

I got a thousand calls and texts from people. Each one of them was someone asking whether I needed help. But I didn’t need help. I didn’t need anyone anymore. I kept thinking, This is a mistake. We’re forever. We’re forever. We’re forever.

That afternoon, I climbed the trellis to Declan’s room. The window was locked, so I climbed down and found the key that Kane kept in a sad pot of dirt that used to have flowers. I opened the door, climbed the stairs, and cried on his bed. I inhaled the woodworker’s glue and the motor oil. I thought about the last time we’d been together. I thought about lying in the dirty snow, in the pirate ship, staring up at the stars. I thought of his heart, beating so fiercely under my ear. Forever had been tainted; now it was a death sentence.

When Kane appeared, I didn’t even stir. He just stood in the doorway, and though I could feel his presence, I ignored it. I wanted to lie in this room forever, maybe even die here. Nothing else mattered.

Finally, he said my name. I was surprised at how strong his voice was. I looked up. His eyes were rimmed darkly, probably from lack of sleep, as if something had finally chinked the great Kane Weeks’s armor.

Very calmly, he asked me, “What did you do?”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, burying my face again.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.” My phone buzzed. I looked at it. Another text from another “concerned friend” who’d barely ever texted me before. “Why do people keep texting me?”

Without thinking, I threw my phone, as hard as I could. It hit the wall and shattered instantly, the pieces showering one of Declan’s prized models of the Titanic.

Kane grabbed me by the shoulders, holding me still as my whole body heaved. He stood so close that I couldn’t open my eyes without seeing him. As much as I didn’t want to, he caught my gaze and held it. “Hailey. What did you do?”

I started to sob. “I think I made a mistake.”

He nodded. “You think?”

Then I focused on him. “What did you do?”

“What I always do. What I will always do.” He released me as if I was worthless, and I pushed away from him. I ran home across the street, wanting so badly to follow Declan, wherever he’d gone.

Monday, July 8

Late

He’s staring at me like he’s waiting for me to admit something.

And I won’t. I won’t do it. Not now. Not after everything I’ve lost. I’ve lost so much more than anyone else. I don’t deserve the responsibility for this.