Janine’s POV

I sat on the edge of Marcus’s bed, my fingers curled around the hem of his pillowcase. His scent still clung to the fabric, clean, sharp, familiar. I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly, as if that alone could bring him back, as if it could fill the gaping space he had left behind. The room was quiet, too quiet, and for the first time in years, I felt small in it.

The last time I was in here, he was teasing me about something, probably about how I still got scared watching horror movies. He always found a way to make fun of me without making...