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Her hand releases the bottle of vodka as she starts slipping away right in front of me. I watch as her eyes start to roll back and her head falls heavily against my hand.
No.
This can't be happening.
No!
“Shit! Zayn!” I scream my best friend's name as I panic to maneuver Tessa so she's lying flat on the floor. “Zayn!”
With my hands on her chest, I start doing CPR as I call for my roommate in unadulterated fear. Her body feels hollow beneath my touch. I can feel her ribs creaking under the pressure, but I can’t stop. If this is the only thing keeping her alive, I’ll do it for as long as I need to.
“Don't die on me. Please don't die on me,” I plead through sobs. Tears that I didn’t know were streaming down my face fall onto Tess’s lifeless body. “Fuck, Zayn!”
Finally, he comes running into my room. When he realizes the scene in front of him, he looks just as terrified as I feel. His eyes double in size and his skin goes almost as pale as Tessa’s.
“Call 911!” I tell him urgently. “Now!”
My lungs fill with air as I jolt awake. The dark room provides a sense of relief as I realize it was just a nightmare—the same recurring nightmare I've had since it happened. The one that makes me feel all the same things I did when I lived through it.
Kennedy lies beside me, sound asleep and turned away. A part of me wants to reach out and touch her, but after everything we went through last night, I don't think waking her would do any good. It's better not to risk it.
The floor creaks beneath my feet as I slip out of bed and head downstairs. I make my way into the kitchen and open the fridge, grabbing an ice-cold beer and cracking it open. The liquid slides down my throat and cools me from the inside out, bringing me back into reality and away from the memories that haunt me at night.
“Again?” Zayn asks, appearing out of nowhere. “I thought they stopped.”
I push myself up to sit on the counter. “I thought so, too.”
“You really should see a therapist. You have PTSD, and it really helped Jace.”
Shaking my head, I stare down at my beer as he grabs one for himself. “We don't do this. I act like I'm fine, and you pretend you believe I'm fine. That's how we operate. Remember?”
He cracks the can open and leans against the island across from me. “Are the nightmares making you want drugs?”
“No, Z,” I say calmly, knowing he's only asking because he cares. “Reliving the memory of my ex-girlfriend nearly dying in my arms is not triggering the urge to relapse.”
“Good enough, then I'll drop it. But at least consider therapy.”
I nod but say nothing else. The two of us sit in total silence, but there's a mutual respect. He knows that just being here is exactly what I need, even if we don't talk.
“I'm asking Amelia to marry me,” he announces out of the blue.
Sputtering beer, I struggle to catch my breath. “Fuck, man. Seriously?”
The corners of his mouth raise. “I love her, E. There's no one else I could imagine spending the rest of my life with.”
“Jesus Christ, she turned you into a damn Hallmark card,” I tease.
Zayn has been my best friend since we were riding on training wheels. He's one of the most loyal and protective people I know, which is probably the only reason I'm so calm right now, given that he's standing here telling me he's going to propose to my little sister.
Them dating was something I never saw coming. When I found out they were hooking up behind my back, it was a shock to my system, but I don't think I could find a better guy for her. Just seeing the two of them together, I know he'd throw himself on a blade if it was in her best interest.
“You haven't killed me yet,” he quips. “That's a good sign.”
A deep chuckle echoes through me. “Are you kidding? If I put so much as a scratch on you, Amelia would rip me to shreds.”
“Touché.Though from what it sounded like earlier, Kennedy might do that for her.”
I wince. “You heard all that?”
