Frustration thrums through my veins, making me angry—the most pointless emotion in all the land, besides jealousy. Why do I always deny myself? Yeah, I shouldn’t fuck around with Jen. Yeah, she’s too good for me. Her brother was my best friend and I let him down in the worst way—and then sent him off to his death when I should have gone with him.

Making the promise to Danny that I would always take care of Jen had been easy. Actually making good on that promise proved much more difficult. She ran away. I found her almost a year ago, living in her car, stripping at the sleaziest club in the area, for the love of God. She worked most of the night and slept in her car in the parking lot of Gold Diggers.

I’d found her like that. Desperate and hungry and ready to run from me, though I hadn’t let her. I chased after her. Forced her to listen to me, forced her into my car so I could take her home. I’ll never forget how she looked. Like a wild animal caught in a trap. Frantically looking for a way to escape.

We’d always been friends. Growing up, we were close. Danny never mocked my connection to his sister, which I appreciated, because what Jen and I had shared was special.

We don’t talk much anymore, though. She’s keeping something from me and I can’t figure out what. Discovering that she danced and took off her clothes had been bad enough. What more could she be hiding?

Who knows? She’s not telling me squat.

Now here I am finally doing something right. Finally not being a total selfish prick and giving Jen the opportunities she deserves. I can’t hold her back from doing what she wants. It’s not fair. If she wants to leave and find her footing somewhere else, I need to encourage her. Lord knows her parents don’t. They’re too wrapped up in their own problems to pay attention to hers. You’d think they’d be over their son’s death and how it affects them, how it’s damn near ruined their marriage.

Huh. I have no business talking.

Once I enter my bedroom, I methodically strip off my clothes, leaving a trail behind me as I walk into the master bath. I turn on the shower and immediately step under the icy spray, gritting my teeth against the cold blast. The temperature of the water snaps me out of my shit mood and I stand under it for a bit, soaking my head.

Soaking my thoughts.

I finally turn up the heat, shampoo my hair, soap up my body, and rinse. Grab hold of my cock and jerk off to thoughts of her like a boy harboring an unrequited crush. Jen with me in the shower, her body soapy and slick, her smooth skin gleaming from the water. She’d touch me everywhere, her hands wandering all over my skin as she knelt before me. Her lips would whisper over the head of my hard cock just before she took me deep inside . . .

And as I slump against the slick wall, panting, my muscles trembling from the effects of my orgasm, I close my eyes and press my cheek against the unforgiving tile. Wishing she were with me, naked and eager under the spray, on her knees just as I imagined, ready to take me in her mouth.

Just before I grab her by the shoulders and haul her into my arms, press her against the wall, and fuck her into oblivion. That’s what I really want.

But instead, I’m alone. As usual.

“Danny! Damn it, where are you?” I move through the forest, calling his name over and over again.

He’s laughing. I can hear him. Maybe he’s in a tree, hanging from a branch and watching me as I search everywhere for him. All the while he’s laughing at my frustration. Or maybe he’s hiding just beyond the trail, behind a bush. I can’t figure out where he is. All I know is that I can hear him.

“Danny! Swear to God I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t show your ugly face now,” I yell, stopping in the middle of the trail. The sun beats its merciless heat down upon me, and I rake a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. His laughter rings in the distance, infuriating me, and I kick at a rock, pissed that he keeps doing this to me.

I’m sick of his games. All I want to do is talk to him. See him. Insult him. Laugh with him.

Just like old times.

“Fuck you, Wilder. Come and find me!”

He’s daring me, as if we’re playing some sort of twisted hide-and-seek game, and I trudge on. Ignoring the heat, ignoring how the trail narrows and becomes rockier. More treacherous. I stumble and I hear his mocking laughter, the jackass.

“Don’t slow down, follow my voice,” Danny encourages. “Don’t be a pussy!”

His words anger me and I increase my pace, determined to catch his ass so I can kick it. “Fuck you, Cade,” I mutter, and he laughs harder.

“You can’t get me. I’ve always been the stronger one. The better one,” he taunts.

Not true.

“The faster one,” he continues. “In school, I did better in all the sports. I got the prettier girls. You were always second best, Wilder. Hell, your old man doesn’t even bother to come around and see you anymore. Well, he never really did, did he?”

“Fuck. YOU!” I break out into a full run despite the heat, how tired I am, how the sweat literally drips into my eyes. I wipe at them with the back of my hand and see Danny in the distance. Standing there, his hands on his hips, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

I want to wipe that grin off with my fist.

Clenching my hands so tight my fingers ache, I run up on him, ready to reach out and grab his shoulder, but the next thing I know, he’s on the ground. Lying flat on his back, his entire body still, his dark brown eyes wide and unseeing. Staring up at me with no acknowledgment of life, they’re completely empty.

“No.” The sob falls from my lips as I fall to my knees and gather him into my arms. His body is cold. So damn cold and stiff and I hold him closer, his face pressed against my chest, my face against the top of his head. “Don’t you die on me now, you motherfucker.”

No response.

Tears stream down my cheeks and I shake my head. “I won’t let you die.” I squeeze him so tight I know he can’t breathe and then I push him away from me, staring down into his face with dawning horror as he flops to the dusty ground with a thud.

His eyes are gone, replaced with empty, cold black sockets. He’s not Danny anymore. He’s a corpse. A skeleton. His body is brittle, his clothes, his fucking skin . . . gone.

Fuck.

A ragged sound escapes me and I leap to my feet, looking around in a panic. Now I’m lost. And if I don’t find my way back, I’ll soon be as dead as Danny.

“I gotta get out of here,” I mutter to myself as I try to retrace my steps. But it’s no use. As I continue on, I become more and more lost. Until I’ve circled back and there’s Danny again.

Lying in the middle of the rocky trail, a cold and lifeless skeleton. The goddamn skeleton sits up, his black eyes on me, his voice calm as he lifts his hand. Pointing at me, he says, “It’s all your fault I’m dead. I hope you’re proud.”

Another sob escapes me as I fall to my knees again. Hell no, I’m not proud. If I could switch places, I would. I so would. He didn’t deserve to die. Everyone loved Danny, while everyone other than Danny merely tolerated me.

I wish I were the one who died.

“Colin.” A soft, sweet voice reaches through the haze and I clamp my lips shut, trying to stave off my cries. “Colin, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

This is no dream. I’m facing my ugly reality every single day. I let everyone in my life down.

Everyone.

“Please, Colin.” My body shakes. Her slender hands are on me, trying to offer comfort. They smooth over my shoulders before she gives me another shake, this one firmer. I had no idea she was so strong. Mentally, yes, the girl can endure anything. I admire her for that.