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Noah's POV
Ethan's texts lit up my screen like little reminders of everything that was going wrong.
Ethan💙💖: Hey, I might be running a little late. Give me a bit, okay love?
That message had come through at seven-thirty.
Now, it was just past eight. The dark sky had already enveloped everything, making the streetlights seem extra harsh. I read the message again at home, waited a bit longer, and then against the strong urge telling me to stay put. I grabbed my jacket and headed toward Jace's place based on the address on the flyer.
I kept expecting Ethan's car to show up next to me, imagining him rolling down the window with that apologetic smile of his, ready to say something sweet to make everything feel okay again. But he never did. The walk felt longer than usual, my nerves practically tapping at the insides of my ribs with every step.
By the time Jace's house came into view, I almost wished I'd turned around five blocks back.
