“You and Valentino changed each other, even though you shared only one day together. You gave him peace before his death, and he’ll stay with you for the rest of your life,” Dalma says, thinking more of Valentino’s imprint on Orion’s soul instead of the new heart in his chest, but that too. “I think I can build an app that makes sure no one dies alone.”

“How would it work?”

“Everyone would create a profile on the app so you can find your best match, but I don’t think it should be random selection. This is personal, and the Decker should choose who they invite into their life, especially with time so limited. I can even create the option for Deckers to pair up. Then whoever gets the honor of being chosen to keep the Decker company, they’ll help them however they can. It might just be basic companionship as they get their affairs in order. It could be hyping up the Decker to live a lifetime on their End Day.”

There’s a flicker of life in Orion’s eyes, almost like an entire film reel of his time with Valentino is unfolding in his head. “That’s going to change a lot of people’s lives, Dalma.”

“I hope so.”

Dalma isn’t sure if Orion will ever use the app. It’s hard to imagine at this stage. He’s strong, but can his new heart handle more heartbreak?

Time will answer that when it’s time.

“You know what you’re going to call it?” Orion asks.

The name came to Dalma like lightning. “The Last Friend app.”

Orion

4:54 p.m.

I was Valentino’s Last Friend.

Dalma’s app is going to form some incredible connections, but it’s a double-edged sword that can’t be wielded by the faint of heart. The Last Friend must understand that not only will the Decker die, they may also witness the death. That’s scarring. But not all scars are bad. I look down at the one across my chest.

The scar that says I was more than Valentino’s Last Friend.

5:17 p.m.

“When did he die? What time?”

Just as I want to know everything about Valentino’s life, the same goes for his death.

Dr. Emeterio stops studying my charts and pulls out her clipboard. “Valentino passed at 9:11 p.m.”

Nine.

Eleven.

Just when I thought those numbers couldn’t become more haunting.

6:17 p.m.

“You have a guest,” Dalma says in the doorway of my new room.

I’m guessing my guest isn’t one of the fam. “Who is it?”

“Scarlett.”

My heart—Valentino’s heart—is screaming with heartbeats.

“Are you in the mood for company?” Dalma asks.

No, but there’s no saying no.

Not to the twin of the boy who gave me his heart.