(Rebecca's POV)
The last car leaves.
I watch the taillights — two red points sliding down the first switchback, then the second, then gone. The staff dims the downstairs lights. One window. Then another. Then the kitchen. The mountain does what it does when no one is looking. It goes black. All at once. Like a choice I didn't get to make.
I check my phone. No missed calls. No texts.
I call Sean.
It rings. Once. Twice. Three. Four. Then his voice — recorded, flat, the same cadence he uses at quarterly meetings: Sean Clark. Leave a message.
I hang up.
I call again. Four rings. Voicemail. His name. The beep. The silence after the beep.
Warm phone in my hand. Cold air on my skin. The gap between them is the gap between what I expected tonight and what I'm getting.
I tell myself he's l
