Chapter Eighteen
Mitch sent the entire staff home early that afternoon. Flora walked me to our place and tried to talk some comfort into me, but I was barely aware of any of it. She even brewed me some sleep-aiding tea and tucked me in on the couch with Luna, but it wasn’t enough to calm my mind.
As lifeless as I felt physically, my head was alight with anxious energy. I couldn’t shake the urge to do something, anything, to try to make sense of what happened — because it was at least partially my fault.
No matter how many times I said it, in my head or aloud, it never got easier to accept: Opal Cromwell was dead.
What if it was all because I wouldn’t stop chasing Harper’s story? If I’d just listened to Mitch and backed off from the beginning, would Opal still be alive? More than that,
