Thirteen
Gray
Ronan made the call anyway, and fifteen minutes later, Detective Emilio Alvarez arrived with the cavalry, shattering my bubble of denial.
Clutching the just breathe mandala stone in my hand, I lay on the living room couch with my head in Ronan’s lap, his fingers tracing light circles on my forehead as I watched the muddy boots of half a dozen cops stomp back and forth between the living room and the bedroom of my dead best friend, picking up fibers and dusting for prints and whatever else they did at a crime scene.
That’s how they were treating this. A crime scene.
Death had vanished as quickly as he’d arrived, and Ronan hadn’t uttered a word about it. I still couldn’t get my head around it. Death had said things, revealed things, done things in that room that should’ve
