Flint
So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours, I’m not sure how we made onto the airplane. Staring at Fallon’s tear-stained, red-eyed face, I’m even less sure.
The hardest part was when she didn’t answer. I should have known, of course, what was going on. Fallon wouldn’t have asked for my car keys and willingly gone alone back into the world so soon after what happened to her unless it was serious. Lacey’s words did strike me as concerning—She said she loves me, and that she’s proud of me. She hasn’t said that in a long time. But I didn’t connect the dots.
When she finally answered, the fourth time I called, she was with the police. “She’s dead,” she whispered in a hollow, empty voice. “She killed herself.”
I nearly dropped my phone. I had no idea what to say. Was I supp
