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Her sharp gaze scans over our haggard group and her eyes soften with sympathy. “He’s right over there.”

Mom turns, facing the glass walled room on our right. She hesitates before taking my hand and squeezing it tight. “Abby, take your brothers to the vending machine by the elevators and find somewhere to sit.”

“But Mom—”

“Abby,” she snaps, her voice cracking. “Let me find out what’s going on first. Please?”

The lingering nausea flares back to life, churning my stomach. “Okay.” I motion to Jace and Evan. “Guys, let’s get something to eat and drink.”

Grumbling, they dutifully follow.

Ten, then twenty minutes pass. I’m not sure how long we wait. Long enough for Jace and Evan to demolish a bag of chips and a lemonade each before falling asleep on two very uncomfortable couches in the tiny ICU waiting room.

When Mom finally appears, her face is blotchy and her eyes are red. I shoot to my feet. Don’t barf, Abby.

“What? What happened?”

“They… they aren’t one hundred percent sure,” she explains. Mom rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. “But they think he overdosed on his prescriptions, maybe. He’s…” she inhales a sob, “he’s on life support. You father is coming home. We have to… I have to…”

My mom breaks down, tears spilling over her cheeks as grief overtakes her. I reach out and she pulls me into her arms, clutching me tight. We sink onto one of the peeling vinyl couches and both cry until there’s nothing left inside but a hollow, aching emptiness.

3

Abby

“Come on, Abby!” Kate whines. “I don’t want to go alone.” She gives me her big, sad, puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Kate. Fine. I’ll go.”

She jumps up and down, squealing and clapping her hands. “Yay! Thank you, thank you! It means so much to me.”

“It better,” I grumble.

“You okay?” Kate puts a hand on my arm as I get up from the couch to go get changed. She bites her lip, but stays silent.

I sigh. It’s not her fault I’m acting moody. I never told her how I felt about Hawke, about the intense moment I thought we shared at the club that first night we met. Ever since watching him hook up with that girl, I’ve begged off going to see the band every time Kate has asked.

“I’m fine.” I give her a convincing smile, which she returns.

“Lovely. Brilliant, Abby. Thanks. You don’t know how odd it feels to be standing in the crowd alone to watch the show.”

She follows me to my room, flopping on the bed while I search for something to wear. “Why don’t you just watch from backstage?” I ask as I flip through my closet.

Kate makes a disgusted noise that has me glancing over my shoulder. The way she wrinkles up her nose reminds me of someone who just smelled something gross. “I can’t face toward the audience, Abby. Watching those slags stare at my bloke…” She fake shivers dramatically. “It’s creepy, the way they eye-fuck the guys, plotting how to get into their trousers. Plus, it’s bloody offensive.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Great. Now that I have, the image of women flinging themselves at Hawke pops up in my head and sets up camp.

“Honestly, I really just want you with me for the after-party tonight,” Kate says.

My fingers clench around a cute blue dress I forgot I owned. “After-party?”

“Yeah. It’s at some other club nearby. Ross got everyone on the list and said I could bring someone as well. Apparently, he wants them to meet some big shots in the music industry or something. I can’t remember.”

Kate continues talking, oblivious to my discomfort. Going to watch the band is one thing. I’d be safe in the crowd, Hawke up on stage, no contact with each other to remind me of the powerful connection between us. A party is an entirely different story. We’d go as a group, for one thing, which would mean possibly sharing a car. Then, once we got there, I’d have to watch Hawke flirt and pick up a girl to have sex with. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to go through that again.

But what if this is an opportunity, another chance at seeing what Hawke and I could have together? I shiver at the thought of his touch, the electricity I felt crackle between us.

Now I’m freaking out as I strip off my shirt and shimmy the silky fabric over my head. Kate stands up, rummaging in my closet while I straighten out the dress. She produces a pair of strappy silver heels, thrusting them at me. “Wear these. You’ll be the most stunning girl there.”

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