I waited for Declan to come out of his room and see how much I loved him. He’d see how lost I was without him, and he’d save me from this hell I was living.

But he didn’t.

Two seconds later, common sense trickled in, replacing the rage that had been boiling inside me, and a second after that, it morphed into fear. My fingers loosened on the trophy, and I studied it, surprised to see it in my hands. What the hell had I done?

When I crept closer, I realized my mistake. The form on the floor wasn’t Luisa. No, she’d left through the window.

Declan was lying at my feet.

Motionless.

The skull near his forehead, just above that arched eyebrow, was bleeding. Dented unnaturally.

I said his name. Once. Twice.

No answer. I dropped the trophy.

I ran, nearly diving out his window, slipping on the snow on the roof, falling to the bushes without feeling a thing.

I did this. I built these walls. The reason I’ve been in hell for so long? I belong there. And Kane can’t save me from it. Not when the devil’s saved a seat for me.

I can try to move forward, make my life as worthy and meaningful as two to compensate for the one I took. But Declan was a star, bound for greatness, and try though I might, nothing I do will ever be as magnificent as what he would’ve done. In one second of madness, I destroyed it all. And that will be with me for the rest of my life, touching every little thing I do.

I’d wanted something to make me special. And now I have it. I’m a murderer.

“When I saw him there, I thought about what Declan would want,” Kane says. “And I knew he’d want me to take care of you. To fall on the sword on your behalf. To be your Gatsby.”

I look at him. “You…finished the book?”

“Yeah. Fucking Gatsby.” He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “I did a really shitty thing to protect you, Hailey, and now Declan will always be known as the kid who committed suicide. He loved you, Hailey. More than anyone, even him, could possibly put into words, so I have to believe he would’ve wanted me to do that. But maybe he understood then what I’m only now realizing.

“You’re the first. And you may be the most intense. I may never feel the things I felt for you again. But even the smallest action can bend us in ways so that we don’t go back. You did it to him when you kept us a secret from him. And you did it to me too.”

“But—” I shudder, the full weight of his words bearing down on me. Of course, I know what he’s talking about.