Chapter 1

I hate Halloween more than any other day of the year, because every year, my best friend Rowan would suggest the same thing in our five-person group chat: let's hit a haunted house.

I'm a complete wreck when it comes to scary stuff. Last year, I ended up in the ER with stress cardiomyopathy.

This year, I put my foot down. Hard no.

But they'd been inside barely ten minutes when my brother called, his voice cracking with panic. "Your boyfriend got hit by one of the props—his head's bleeding everywhere. Get in here, now!"

I didn't think. I ran.

The strobes and screams hit me all at once. Someone with a fake axe chased me through the corridors as I stumbled and crawled, desperate to find Ethan.

By the time I reached my boyfriend, I was scraped up everywhere, mascara streaking down my face.

I grabbed his arm to drag him out—and laughter erupted behind me.

Rowan emerged from the control room, doubled over, clutching her stomach.

"Told you she was faking. Look, she came in anyway."

My brother Xavier and our friend Mason pulled off their monster masks, laughing so hard they could barely stand.

"If you don't freak out and cry, where's the fun for us?"

Ethan got up and brushed the dust off his jacket. Not a scratch on him.

"It's Halloween, Chlo. Lighten up. Don't be a buzzkill."

I stared at them.

For years, I'd blamed myself. I was the coward, the one who couldn't fit in. Now I understood: while I'd been curled up sobbing, they'd been watching the monitors, laughing their asses off.

They were still laughing. They had no idea this little prank had just cost them me. For good.

Forever.

...

I pressed a hand to my chest, waiting for my heartbeat to settle. It wouldn't.

I couldn't even get to my feet.

Rowan slipped her arm through Ethan's as if she'd done it a hundred times. Xavier and Mason stood on either side of her. All three men were looking at her, still smiling.

I was the one on the floor. My knees and elbows were scraped raw, and every time I moved my forehead stung.

Nobody asked if I was hurt.

Eventually, Ethan sighed and hauled me up by the arm.

"God, you're such a klutz. How do you get this banged up in a haunted house?"

"I tried to stop her," Mason said. "She just ran faster and slammed into a wall. How's that my fault?"

He said it so casually. He'd chased me with the fake axe, cornered me, then kicked me twice when I fell. I'd been trying to get away from him. Now he was grinning as though he'd done me a favor.

Rowan shrugged. "Don't blame me. You're the one who always has to make things difficult."

"You could've just come in with us," Xavier added. "Like everyone else."

Whenever I refused, they'd call me antisocial and freeze me out for days, until I gave in. They'd promise to stay with me, then disappear once we were inside. I'd be left crying in a corner until an employee found me.

Last year, Rowan had chosen an extreme attraction. I'd ended up in the ER. That was why I'd refused this time, no matter how much they complained.

So they'd told me Ethan was hurt. They'd known that would get me through the door.

He slapped my scraped arm, making me flinch. "Come on, Chloe. You're not going to sulk over a few scratches."

That morning, after failing to talk me into going, he'd crouched in front of me and tucked my scarf around my neck.

"Fine. Wait for us at the exit. I'll take you out for steak afterward."

I'd smiled at him, relieved he wasn't angry. I'd thought he was finally listening to me. All the while, he'd been helping them plan this.

I pulled away and headed for the exit without answering.

"Oh, somebody's mad," Rowan called. "Ethan, you'd better go after her."

He hesitated, then caught up and took my hand. "Okay, okay. I'll walk you out."

He started talking about dinner as though nothing had happened. I let him lead me toward the door.

Then a side door swung open. Before I could react, he shoved me through it and slammed it behind me.

I stumbled straight toward a masked employee. A chainsaw roared inches from my ear.

I dropped to the floor, screaming, my arms over my head. Then I scrambled back to the door and pounded until my palms burned.

"Ethan! Open the door—please!"

It stayed shut. I kept calling his name, waiting for him to tell me it was over and let me out.

Pain seized my chest. I tried to draw a breath and collapsed.

The chainsaw stopped. The employee pulled off his mask and forced the emergency exit open.

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

He knelt beside me, reaching for my pulse, then shouted, "Call 911! Someone's collapsed!"

Beyond the open door, I could still hear them laughing as they walked away. I tried to call out. Nothing came.

When I opened my eyes in the ER, I recognized the doctor from last year.

"We talked about avoiding severe stress," she said. "Another episode like this could kill you."

She looked at me. "You weren't in any state to listen last time, so I explained it to all four people who brought you in. What happened tonight?"

I tried to answer, but I couldn't make myself say it.

My boyfriend, my brother, and my two closest friends had done this together.

They'd all apologized last year. Ethan had looked after me while I recovered, and I'd believed they understood. Lately, I'd started to think they'd simply forgotten how serious it was.

"Your test results are concerning," the doctor continued. "I want you evaluated by a specialist. Cleveland Clinic would be a good option. We can send a referral and your records."

I looked down at the report. "Okay. I'll go."

My phone began buzzing on the bedside table.

Xavier was posting photos in the group chat. Rowan was in the middle of every shot, with the three men gathered around her. I wasn't in a single one.

Then Mason posted the bill and tagged me. Only me. The others weren't being asked for a cent.

They'd left me in the haunted house and gone out to celebrate. They'd done it before, too: bars, parties, dinners I wasn't invited to.

Afterward, they'd insist I pay because I'd "wandered off" and worried them.

I typed: "I'm not paying. Not this time. Not ever again."

Rowan replied first. "Seriously, Chloe? You're still mad about a joke? Don't be so cheap."

Then Ethan: "I didn't realize it was you back there. Thought you were one of the staff. My bad. Won't happen again. I sent you the address—come join us."

I stared at his message until the screen blurred.

I'd lost count of the times he'd brushed past me to check on Rowan, even when I was hurt and crying. He'd always apologize afterward, always find some way to make it up to me.

For a long time, that had been enough. Tonight, I couldn't stop seeing his hand pushing me into that room. Or remembering how he'd left me there.

I left the group chat.

Half an hour later, he called. "Why aren't you here? We're all worried. Rowan's so upset she won't eat."

Glasses clinked behind him. Someone cheered. None of them had even noticed I'd left the chat, but he wanted me to come over and make Rowan feel better.

I wiped my eyes. My voice was steady when I answered.

"I'm not coming."

"Chloe—"

"Ethan. We're done."