Chapter 1

For three years, Ethan Carter and I had shared our locations with each other.

On the day I nearly died, his location stayed pinned to a bridal boutique across town for six straight hours.

He was helping Sophie Bennett choose a dress.

Mine traced a very different route.

From the entrance of our apartment complex.

To the middle of an intersection.

To the emergency room at St. Anne’s Medical Center.

Finally, it stopped in the basement level.

He never looked at it once.

Only after I died did I learn the truth.

Death hadn’t taken me cleanly. For a little while, I lingered—unseen and unheard, forced to watch the truth unfold without me.

The day before my accident, he’d turned off notifications for my location.

His reason?

I’d been sick with a fever all week and had made several trips to urgent care and the hospital. Every location alert interrupted his FaceTime calls with Sophie.

“Sorry,” he’d told her with a laugh. “Claire keeps setting off the location alerts. I’ll mute them for now.”

When I was rushed into emergency surgery, no one who knew me was there—no one to answer questions, no one to wait outside the OR.

A nurse eventually found the emergency contact in my phone labeled [Mom] and called my seventy-year-old mother.

She spent six hours on a Greyhound trying to reach me.

By the time she arrived, I was already in surgery.

Ethan’s office was less than ten minutes away.

He never came.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I opened my eyes again, fireworks exploded across the night sky.

I was standing on the riverwalk exactly one week before everything fell apart.

The night Ethan proposed.

He knelt on one knee, holding out a diamond ring.

“Claire Sullivan.”

His smile was warm, practiced, completely convincing.

“I only want to marry once, Claire. I want it to be you.”

I looked at the ring.

Then I looked at him.

Without saying a word, I took his phone from his hand.

A puzzled smile crossed his face.

“What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, I opened the location-sharing app.

Our names appeared side by side.

[Sharing indefinitely.]

I tapped the screen.

[Stop Sharing Location?]

Yes.

The app asked one last time.

[Stop sharing with Ethan?]

I pressed Confirm.

The screen went blank.

Then I handed his phone back.

Ethan stared at me.

His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief.

“You turned it off?”

He frowned and instinctively reached for my phone.

“Claire.”

“It’s our engagement night.”

“Do we really have to turn this into a fight tonight?”

I stepped back before he could touch me.

The breeze rolling off the river cut straight through my dress, making me shiver.

Before I could respond, his phone rang.

Sophie’s name flashed across the screen.

He answered immediately.

A frightened voice came through the speaker.

“Ethan…”

“I got a flat out by North Ridge.”

“The streetlights are out.”

“I’m scared.”

“Can you come get me?”

He didn’t hesitate.

Not even for a second.

He shoved the velvet ring box into my hands.

“She’s alone out there.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I have to go.”

He slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

“The wind’s picking up.”

“Go home and wait for me.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I deal with this.”

“We’ll have the cake together when I get back.”

His voice was gentle.

Protective.

If I hadn’t lived through my previous life…

If I hadn’t remembered dying alone…

I probably would have smiled, told him to hurry, and waited for him all night wearing his jacket with that ring in my pocket.

Instead, I took the jacket off.

“No.”

“I’ll call myself a ride.”

A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes.

He clearly didn’t understand why I was acting this way.

But Sophie was waiting.

There wasn’t time to argue.

He gave me a quick, distracted hug.

“Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

Then he jogged toward his Porsche parked across the street.

He never looked back.

The taillights disappeared into the night.

I stood there alone, clutching the engagement ring that never made it onto my finger.

Then I called a rideshare and went home.

The cold wind had soaked through my dress.

By the time I reached the apartment, my throat burned.

I dug out a thermometer.

[103.1°F.]

The same fever.

The same night.

In my previous life, this was how it started.

A week of lingering illness.

An ER visit.

Then the crash that ended everything.

By two in the morning, the custom three-tier engagement cake sitting on our dining table had already begun to collapse.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Ethan.

Sophie’s ankle is worse than we thought.

I’m staying with her while they monitor her tonight.

Put the cake in the fridge.

We’ll celebrate tomorrow.

I stared at the screen.

My stomach twisted.

Almost without thinking, I hit Call.

I wanted to tell him…

I had a fever too.

Every inch of my body hurt.

For once…

Just once…

Would he choose me first?

The phone rang four times.

Then someone answered.

But it wasn’t Ethan.

It was Sophie.

Her voice was soft.

Almost apologetic.

“Claire, Ethan’s getting an ice pack for me.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“He’s definitely staying here tonight.”

In the background, I heard Ethan’s voice.

“Who’s calling?”

“I thought I told you to silence my phone tonight.”

Something inside me shattered.

I closed my eyes.

Then spoke quietly.

“Tell him…”

“He doesn’t need to come home.”

I hung up.

The acetaminophen in our medicine cabinet had expired months ago.

So I ordered a rideshare to the emergency room.

It seemed as if everyone in the waiting room had someone beside them.

A husband.

A girlfriend.

A parent.

Someone to hold their place in line.

Someone to hand them a bottle of water.

Someone to stay.

I sat alone through blood tests.

IV fluids.

Medication.

By the time dawn broke, the fever had eased enough for me to leave.

I dragged myself back home.

Later that morning, my mother was due in from Ohio for her annual cardiology follow-up.

Three months earlier, Ethan had promised he’d handle the appointment and transportation himself.

I no longer believed a single word he said.