nd sterile. The second was the blinding white light on the ceiling above h

nd her best friend Kelsi Charles

ice was thick with tears she was holding bac

ed through the fog of pain and confusion. Her

pered, her voice a d

ob tore from Chloe's chest, raw and animal, a sound of pure loss. The tears came then, not gentle drops but a silent, violent f

t absolute bastard Cole Rutledge. I called him a hundred times. A hundred. He d

anything physical. He hadn't come. He'd l

d by a cold, hollow numbness.

it up, shoving the

" Kelsi tried to push her back

of all feeling. "I need to see her. I need to

her out of bed. Leaning heavily on her friend, Chloe shuffled down the quiet, sterile hallway of

re he w

's mouth. The look on his face-tender, focused concern-was

r head, and Chloe's brea

y. But it was, without a doubt, a face that could have been her own. Like looki

tared at her, like he was seeing something far away. The exact shade of lipstick he alwa

tand-in. A substitute. A brea

s. The last scraps of her love for Cole Rutledge died right

elsi, her voice flat. "Th

staring at the ceiling for hours. Th

noyed, like he was dealing with a tedious bu

s a car accident, Chloe. Did you re

credit card, setting it on the bedside table. "I'll cove

He thought money could fix this. H

head slowly, looking at him, really looking, like she was seeing hi

ar. "For the past three years, when you lo