Thirty-One
I stared out the passenger window at the street lights as Molly drove us back to my apartment. My brain was in overdrive, trying to compartmentalize the fact that Lola had succeeded in killing herself. Simultaneously trying to sort through what I’d seen in her memories. I also needed sleep badly.
“You can crash on my couch if you want,” I told Kayla as Molly pulled up to my building.
Kayla unbuckled her seatbelt and paused, her hand on the door handle. “I think I’m just going to walk for a while. Thanks for the offer though.”
She opened the door and climbed out—maybe taking us in and out of the hospital had stretched her abilities too far—then disappeared into the darkness. I exhaled and turned to Molly. “I know time isn’t on our side, but I need sleep. Can we pick this up i
