The eye of the storm, my dad always called me. Someone who takes charge when the shit hits the fan. If there was ever a moment to test that theory, it’s now. I can do this. I can break later. Hell, for all we know, Waylon’s completely fine, and this is all just some horrible, careless misunderstanding.

Fat chance.

“We were up there last week,” I explain quickly as she turns onto the road I assume will take us toward the top of the concrete viaduct. “He made it seem like he goes up there to think sometimes. Get away.”

“The sun will always rise again. You just need to make it through the night.”

My heart pounds in my ears the closer we get.

Waylon, you fucking jackass, you better be in one piece when I find you.

“He never said a word...” Ivy whispers, her voice fading.

I work my jaw and turn to look out the window. I don’t know what to say to that.

“Did something happen while I was gone?” she asks hesitantly, suspicion evident in her voice.

I clench my molars, silently pleading the fifth.

“I feel like I don’t even know him anymore. He doesn’t do this shit. Not to me. He’s always been...self-destructive in a way, but I thought he was getting better. For a while he was...” She trails off into a pause, then, “I’m scared shitless, Will.”

So quiet, for my ears only, I say, “Me too.”

And for the first time in a long fucking time, I pray.

Losing Zayne the way I did broke me.

Losing Waylon like that? Permanently? By his own fucking hand?

Yeah, no, that would fucking decimate me beyond repair.

Please don’t let us be too late.

He’s not here.

The stark fucking relief is enough to nearly send me to my knees, right on the jagged, rusty tracks.

I take one last glance around, using Ivy’s phone to sweep the flashlight over our surroundings. Just to be sure.

But there’s nothing.

No footprints. No tire marks—not that we even know if he has his car or not. No sign of anyone having been up here.

“Do you think he...?” She leaves the thought I know we’re both thinking right now hanging.

I quickly shake my head. “No. There’s absolutely nothing telling us anyone has even been up here recently. He would have left something. H-he’d want to be found.” I inhale deeply, almost welcoming the cool splash of rain hitting my cheeks. “Trust me, he’s not here. People who want to die, want to be found.”

The note Zayne left me flits through my vision. Turning away from Ivy, I screw my eyes shut, gripping the back of my neck roughly. Squeezing until the hair at my nape pulls.