2:34 a.m. Tuesday

The call with Isabella earlier had settled something in my chest. She'd sounded steadier when Olga finally reached her-tired, a little hoarse but good.

She hadn't been the alcohol type as a couple of short could really switch her up.

She'd promised she was fine, that Olga was hovering like a mother hen, that the "alcohol poisoning" story was mostly exaggeration now. I'd let myself believe it. Let the knot in my gut loosen.

Now the house was silent except for the soft lap of water against the infinity edge of the pool. Moonlight sliced across the surface in silver ribbons. I floated on my back, arms...