Page 40 of American Beauty

Tears prick my eyes, but I force them down. I’ll cry later. Right now, I have to make it out of this building with whatever shred of dignity I have left.

The security guard clears his throat. “Miss Steel.”

I nod, swallowing hard, and let them lead me away, leaving everything behind.

Chapter 10

Alex Sebring

I can’t breathewithout her.

Chapter 11

Magnolia Steel

I’m not evensure what day it is anymore.

Chapter 12

Alex Sebring

The house is dark.Still. The kind of calm that suffocates, a quiet that makes you question if you’re the only broken person in a world that stopped spinning.

I tried going to sleep earlier, but Magnolia’s side of the bed still smells like her––cherry blossoms and vanilla.

I love it.

But I also fucking hate it.

I couldn’t stand being in the bedroom anymore so I’m here on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, head leaned back against the cushions. The TV and lights are off. Hours have passed since I moved.

My phone rests on my stomach, the screen black. I tap it once, thumb hesitating, but I open the music app.

She used to play music in my house all the time. Said it helped clear her head because silence made her overthink—and she was already too good at that without help.

I could never recall the song titles, but I remember the sound… and the way her bare feet padded across my floors. The way her voice hummed along under her breath when she wasn’t singing off-key.

I remember how I felt when she was here, how the music softened the edges of the world. And softened my edges as well.

My phone is still logged into her account. I never signed out because I couldn’t bring myself to. It made us too…over. Like closing the last door between us.

I scroll, finding her favorite playlist. The one I listened to countless times because she played the thing nonstop.

I’m about to tap it, needing to hear something familiar, when another playlist jumps out at me. My heart stumbles.

Missing Big Guy.Created one week ago––a full fortnight after she told me she met someone else, was moving on, and I should do the same.

I stare at the list, blinking hard, as though I could be imagining things. But there it is in her account––a whole list of songs dedicated to the playlistMissing Big Guy.

I hit play. The first few notes of song one drift through the room, soft and slow. It’s too much… and still not enough.

I close my eyes, let it wrap around me. Her playlist. Her pain. Because if this is about me, she’s not okay either.

I’m not sure what this means. But it isn’t random.

And there’s one person who might help me make sense of it.

She’s always had a sixth sense about people—especially Magnolia. She recognized the shift between us before we understood what was happening. If anyone can hear past the noise and help me find the truth buried in this music, it’s Laurelyn.

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