Aria

I sighed into the phone, pressing the call button for the tenth time. Rose’s name blinked on the screen like it was mocking me.

Voicemail. Again. I dropped the phone onto the table, barely missing my half-drunk coffee.

Jalene had called me earlier, saying Rose had something I needed to see, something important. I didn’t like cryptic. It never meant anything good.

I looked up from my corner table at the café, fingers drumming against the wood. And there she was, Rose, in oversized ...