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Back The Lucky Ones
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-one
  25. Chapter Twenty-two
  26. Chapter Twenty-three
  27. Chapter Twenty-four
  28. Chapter Twenty-five
  29. Chapter Twenty-six
  30. Chapter Twenty-seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-one
  35. Chapter Thirty-two
  36. Chapter Thirty-three
  37. Chapter Thirty-four
  38. Chapter Thirty-five
  39. Chapter Thirty-six
  40. Chapter Thirty-seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-one
  45. Chapter Forty-two
  46. The Letter
  47. Chapter Forty-three
  48. Chapter Forty-four
  49. Chapter Forty-five
  50. Chapter Forty-six
  51. Chapter Forty-seven
  52. Chapter Forty-eight
  53. Chapter Forty-nine
  54. Chapter Fifty
  55. Chapter Fifty-one
  56. Chapter Fifty-two
  57. Chapter Fifty-three
  58. Author’s Note
  59. Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. What’s next onyour reading list?

She laughs. “It’s fine. C’mon.” She unbuckles her seat belt and swings open the car door. I sit there for a second, trying to get myself together. When I thought about tonight, I never thought we’d end up at her house…alone.

Alone. With May.

Fuck.

But she’s standing there in front of my car waiting for me, so I swallow my nervousness as best I can and get out of the car.

I’m hyperaware of my surroundings in a way I wasn’t when I came to pick her up: The three small palm trees that stand to the side of the driveway where May’s car is parked. The brick path that leads up to the front door, which is painted red, and chipping at the edges. Then I notice May in front of me, the way her hair moves as she walks, and I forget about everything else and follow her inside.

Sure enough, her mom left during the half hour we were gone. May gives me a tour of the house, winding in and out of the downstairs rooms. Everything is neat and tidy, not in the sense that someone picked up recently, more like everything looks pristine and untouched. Like this isn’t a place where living, breathing humans reside. Silver-framed photos hang on the living room walls, full of May and her family posed stiffly, wearing tight, fake smiles. They look professionally shot. In almost all of them, Jordan is standing behind May with his hands on her shoulders. They look so much alike.

May clears her throat and starts to speak. Her voice is so quiet I have to lean in to hear her. “After…the stuff that happened, my parents had this crew of professional…I don’t know what you’d call them…organizers, maybe?…take everything of Jordan’s out of the house. His books…his sheet music…anything that wasn’t in his bedroom the day it happened. They had this crew come in and do a sweep of the house and put it all in storage. Except his room. They left that untouched, like they couldn’t bear to go in there and move anything. And his guitars…” Her eyelids look heavy for a moment, but she blinks, and the moment’s gone. She shakes her head.

She leads me upstairs and stops in front of a closed door.