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I. Can’t. Breathe.
Please don’t leave again. I’ll be good. Just stay.
I startle awake.
I stare wildly at my surroundings while my heart rate slows. Muted gray light filters through my thin curtains. I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, and wipe sweat from my upper lip.
I haven’t dreamed about that day in a while. Right after my mom left, I had it a lot. I think the nightmares scared the hell out of my dad because he shut down after they started happening.
I’m not sure what I would have done if Trey hadn’t been there. The first time it happened, he found my dad standing in the doorway to my bedroom, frozen in panic, while I sobbed and screamed into my pillow, unable to tell the difference between the dream and reality. Trey climbed into bed with me and told me that I wasn’t alone—that he loved me.
I don’t remember that moment exactly, but I remember the feelings. He was warm, his presence calming, and I curled into his side, the nightmare finally retreating.
After that, every time I woke up in a panic, he was always there.
Honestly, if not for Trey, I would’ve lost my humanity a long time ago. Even with his constant support, I still don’t recognize myself anymore. I think the old Lincoln is in there somewhere, trying to claw his way out, but when I look for him, all I see are distant memories reflected back through a broken mirror. Nothing and no one can put me back together—I’m sure of it.
I heave a sigh and climb out of bed. I walk to the bathroom, start the shower, and sit down on the closed toilet lid while I wait for the water to warm up. I put my head in my hands, closing my eyes. My mind drifts to that unexpected event yesterday:Me. Trey. Charlie. Hooking up.
I still don’t know what to make of the situation. I definitely liked it, and Ithinkshe did, too. And Trey? No question that he did. I suspect he’s been scheming about some variation of that scenario since the start of the school year.
The logistics of all of us together are spot on. Trey’s always been an affectionate guy. It’s just the way he is (and even more so when he drinks), and it’s never really bothered me. And, yes, I’m starting to doubt that my hate for Charlie was ever justified.And Charlie seems at least attracted to both of us. So then why do I have so many doubts about this?
I stand, step into the shower, and let the nearly scalding water wash the stress from my aching muscles. When I finish, I scrub the moisture from my hair and get dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. My next class isn’t for a couple of hours, so my plan is to sit in the living room and do some homework until then.
But just as I’m opening my laptop to start on my film history paper, there’s an insistent knock at the door. I frown, set my computer on the coffee table, and walk to the door. I peer through the peephole like the suspicious bastard I am and see Serenity bouncing on her toes in the entryway. I roll my eyes.
“Hey, Seren,” I say, opening the door and standing aside so she can enter. Her blonde hair is in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing an oversized off-the-shoulder crewneck. Her hot-pink dance tights are painted on her shapely legs and are paired with neon-yellow leg warmers. Give her a headband, and she could star inFlashdance.
“It’s like thirty-five degrees. Aren’t you cold?”
She waves her hand dismissively and skips into my living room. “The dance auditorium is practically next door, and I didn’t want to change before I came to talk to you.”
I raise my eyebrows with interest, and we both sit on the couch.
Serenity turns to face me. Her fingers tap restlessly against her thighs.
“Just spit it out.”
“You’re always so cranky.”
“I’m impatient.”
“Fine.”
Serenity has been like a sister to me for most of my life. At one time, we did everything together. She’s a dancer, andI’ve been to more productions ofThe Nutcrackerthan I care to admit. As we got older, her feelings changed, but mine never did, and only recently has she started to understand that our sibling-like relationship is all I can give her. A lot of people see her as the mean girl, and she does wear that persona well, but I see past it, just like she knows I wasn’t always a broody asshole.
“Did you hear how well our hockey team has been doing thanks to Matt Johnson? Brantley told me that the guy is unstoppable.”
I stiffen. “What do you know about Matt Johnson? You should stay away from him.”
“Did you know he’s from Brighton?”
“Actually, I did.”
She pouts as if she’s upset that I knew something before her. “Well, did you know that he used to date Charlie Bennett?”
Charlie’s name rolls off her tongue with a pretentious lilt I don’t like, and I give her a dark look.
