Ava's POV
She couldn't move.
Her coat was in Leo's hand, held out to her, and her sister's name was still in the air between them, and her feet had forgotten what they were for.
Sophie.
Sophie, who called every Sunday. Sophie, who still sends physical Christmas cards with handwritten notes inside. Sophie, who had three kids and a loud apartment and a laugh that carried through walls. Sophie, who was the person Ava had been trying to reach that night, was the right number she had missed.
"Ava." Leo's voice. Close. "Put your coat on."
Her hands moved. She didn't tell them to. They just moved, taking the coat, pushing her arms through the sleeves, doing the practical thing while her brain stayed stuck on the image of her sister's face.
"Is she hurt?" Her voice came out strange. Flat and small.
"I don't know yet."
"What does that mean? How can you not?"
