Begrudgingly, I walk into the pounding rain. A car comes up the road and I step into the grass to avoid becoming two points against the driver’s license. The lights hit me and I look away to avoid the brightness and that’s when I spot movement down the freeway ditch.

My heartbeat rushes to my ears as I recognize the tan coat. “Kaden! Jax!”

I race down the gully, fumbling and sliding down the hill, and scream for my family again. They yell back my name and their footsteps pound behind me. Beams of light bounce on the dirt before me. The saturated ground gives and my feet slip out from underneath me. My hands fly back to break the fall, and Jax catches me from behind as Kaden rushes past.

Kaden bends over the form. “It’s him! Jax, I need you!”

I steady my feet and Jax jumps down and helps Kaden draw my father up. Shivers run through me and it’s not from the cold, but from the fear. “Is he okay?” He has to be. My heart can’t take much more loss.

“Fuck!” mutters Jax as he crouches in front of him. “He’s drunk.”

Not caring if the entire hill has dissolved into a mudslide, I collapse back onto my butt. My father, the man who hardly ever drinks, is drunk and there’s no way my uncle will allow anyone who touches alcohol in his house. “We’re all screwed.”

Chapter 68

West

I lie in bed and blur my vision so that the ceiling-fan blades merge into one. In my hand, I click the remote to my stereo on and off. Sound to no sound. Haley’s ghost surrounds me here. Her laughter echoes in my head; the memories of her touch whisper against my skin.

The house is too still. Too silent. The impulse is for sound, noise, music, dancing and alcohol, but I can’t live like that anymore. Haley said I was better. I am better. I told her she was worth fighting for and as she was on the verge of believing it—I abandoned her.

The burst of agony through the numbness causes me to roll off the bed and head out the door. Haley said impulse has to do with emotion, with not thinking. The urge is to forget. I bypass the dark stairs and slow when I reach Rachel’s door.

The bottom of the door brushes against the floor as it opens and this time there is no bluish glow. She had physical therapy this evening and her breathing is light. Asleep in a chair across the room with a closed laptop on his lap is her twin, Ethan.

I ease down to the floor with my back against her bed. The silence in here is by far more deafening than my room, but I’m searching to fill the emptiness, the shell that I’ve become.

There’s a shift and a hand slides down and touches my shoulder.

“I gave her up, Rachel.” My voice cracks and the desperation, the pain I’ve tried to bury, breaks through to the surface. “I gave her up and, right now, I don’t know why.”

Wetness fills my eyes and I slam my fist into the floor, pissed. Rachel moves to the edge of the bed. “Then you win her back.”

“Dad will give her what she wants.” I stop. Fuck me. Fuck him. Fuck all of this. “He’s not my dad.”

She’s silent for a second and the sigh that escapes her lips cuts deep. “Mom told us.”

There’s a flop next to me and my eyes widen when a groggy Ethan rests his head against the bed. “Can we get the mental breakdown over so I can get some sleep?”

“Why are you in here?”

“The same reason you are,” he says. “The same reason the three of us ever do anything and end up together. Though our problems seemed a lot less complicated when we were pouring bubble bath into the Jacuzzi. It doesn’t matter who your dad is, West, because the real Youngs, they’re in this room. It’s always been the three of us against everyone else. For some reason, it’s just taken us longer to get back together.”

I lower my head into my hands and I fight the wave of grief that sweeps over me. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Well, if we get a vote, can you stop being Dad?”

“Ethan,” Rachel chastises.

Anger curls within me. “What did you say?”

“He’s here, Rach, and he’s asking for help. We either say this now or lose the opportunity.”

She settles back onto the pillows, a silent acceptance.

“You’re pissed because Dad painted you into a bad spot with Haley, right?” Ethan says.

I nod, but I’m madder at myself.

“Shouldn’t Haley be mad at you for taking away her choice? To me, that sounds a lot like how Dad treats us.”

“You say you don’t know who you are,” adds Rachel. “But the question should be—who do you want to be?”

Chapter 69

Haley

My uncle waits for us on the stoop. With the front porch light off, he’s more of a shadow, but the evil pulsating from the house tells me it’s him. He leans against the metal pole supporting the overhang and watches as Kaden and Jax drag my half-conscious father toward the house.

“What time is it?” asks Kaden.

“Doesn’t matter,” answers Jax. “The bastard isn’t going to let any of us in.”

Yet we continue forward. “It’s his brother. He’ll take him in,” I say. Maybe not us, but hopefully he’ll take my father. “We’ll tell him Dad’s sick.”

“Is there a flu where you reek of beer?” Jax readjusts his hold on my father. The rain continues its onslaught and it makes holding on to anything close to impossible. “There’s a reason why my dad’s a psychotic control freak. Dad’s dad would get drunk, then beat the hell out of him. PTSD isn’t just for soldiers.”

Jax and Kaden stop on the street in front of the house and share a long, hopeless look. Kaden nods to the curb and both he and Jax lower Dad to it. “Keep an eye on him, Hays.”

Dad sways and I rush to his side for support. Chills run through my body as I sit in a stream of water rushing to the sewer grate. Dad mumbles something and I can’t hear it over the pounding of the rain against the rooftops and the roaring of the water in the sewer tunnels below.

Above us an aging streetlamp buzzes to life. The dull light flickers, creating an eerie strobe. I close my eyes as rain flows over me like a violent waterfall. How did I end up here? How did my life get out of control? “Why?”

Dad lifts his head and John’s words echo in my mind: He’s lost his fight. Anger swells within me and becomes a tidal wave pouring onto shore. “Why!”

Behind me, Jax and Kaden begin to plead. Dad rubs his hands over his face. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”