Six weeks later I’m in Seattle, knocking on the door of Jordan’s apartment. I’m exhausted, edgy, and I have to be back in Houston in twenty-four fucking hours. This is our future and it’s taking its toll. My eyes burn as I stare ahead at the door, waiting. My need for Jordan is palpable. I feel it in every part of me—my itchy skin, the short puffs of air pushing past my lips, the pulsing of my blood. I’m almost hyperventilating.

Open the damn door, Jordan.

It opens suddenly and she’s there, every perfect inch standing right where I need her to be. Warmth leaches deep inside my bones, calming me instantly. It’s the equivalent of walking out of a raging snowstorm and into a warm, cozy log cabin.

I take a deep breath and grin crookedly. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Jordan’s response is to grab my face, dragging it to hers as I step inside, kicking the door shut behind me. She kisses me violently, pushing her tongue in my mouth.

“Missed you,” she mumbles, tugging at my jacket. “How long do we have?”

“Hours,” I manage to get out before her mouth is back on mine, my arms grabbing at my own clothes, helping her. “Just a few hours.”

When I realize her own shirt is already off, my arms slide around, fumbling the clasp of her bra with shaky hands. It drops and my palms fill with her tits. She moans, tilting her head back. I take advantage, covering her neck with wet, open kisses.

I go for the button on my jeans, and Jordan bats my hands away. Dropping to her knees, she undoes the fly with hasty fingers, revealing my boxer-briefs. She tugs those down too and my cock springs out, filling her palms. My body shudders. Opening her mouth, she takes me in. Wet heat surrounds me, and warm hands grab my backside, pushing me in further.

“Fuck.” I groan.

The sucking and licking sends me rock solid, and Jordan whimpers around my cock. It’s like a fucking steel pipe in her mouth. Mere seconds later my body tightens with the sweetest agony, my balls pull up, and I’m coming down her throat. “Sorry,” I rasp, my legs unsteady. “Sorry. Fuck.”

Jordan pulls away with a final lick, and I blink down at her. A tear trickles out the corner of her eye. Shit, did I hurt her? I drop down in front of her. Another one escapes and I catch it with my finger. “Baby?”

Like the word is a catalyst, a sob rips from her throat. My jaw trembles and I wrap my arms around her curled form, dragging her against my chest.

“I h-h-hate this,” she stutters through sobs, her pain stabbing at me like a thousand knives. “I thought I c-c-could do this, but I … but I c-c-can’t.”

“You can,” I tell her, desperately needing it to be true. I’m not the strong one here. Jordan is. She always has been. Jordan is like the strongest oak in the forest. Nothing can fell her, yet here she is, half-naked in my arms and falling apart. It’s breaking my heart.

Later that night we lie in bed facing each other. Jordan stares at me as I play with a lock of her hair, watching the honey strands slide through my fingers. “If this is what it takes to be the best, then I’m not sure I want it anymore,” she croaks.

“Sure you do.” I pause my hair playing and look at Jordan. Dark circles line her eyes and there’s a sadness in them I’ve never seen before. “We’ll get used to living this way,” I reassure her. “It’s not permanent.”

But my words don’t ring true. At least not inside my own heart. I don’t want to get used to living this way. It’s hell. And this situation stretches like a long road ahead of me, so dark and bleak it may as well stretch forever.

Jordan slowly drifts off to sleep, but I don’t. I lie there wide awake, so many pills coursing through my system I feel I’ll never sleep again.

Eventually my phone beeps. The first alert on my alarm, reminding me I have an hour left before I have to leave for the airport. I pick it up to turn it off when I realize it’s not the alert, which isn’t due to go off for another ten minutes. It’s my little sister Annabelle who I haven’t spoken to in months. Why is she calling me at three a.m.?

My chest pulls tight with dread. I shoot up in bed and quickly hit answer. “Moo Moo?” I answer quietly.

“Brody,” she responds, her voice timid.

Swiping my boxer-briefs up off the floor, I tug them on, leaving the bedroom as I speak. “Sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A little hiccup escapes her throat.

“Annabelle?”

Another hiccup hits my ears. I pad silently out into the hallway, pressing my back against the wall as I wait for my sister to say something. “No.”

“Moo Moo, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“You left,” she squeezes out, her voice getting louder as she speaks until it ends on a shrill shout. “You left me and you never came back!”

Oh God. Fucking shit. What do I say? I tried. I tried calling. I stopped by the house more times than I could count, but I wasn’t allowed through the door. I stalked her school, but parents kept shooting me suspicious glances and I kept getting told to move on. I didn’t know what else to do.

Hanging my head, I run fingers through my hair, mussing strands that are long overdue for a cut. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not sorry. You’re not! Otherwise you’d be here. I hate you!” she shrieks. “I hate you, Brody, and I’m glad you’re not here! You—”

A muffled sound comes through the line. “No!” Annabelle screams. “Give it back!”

“Annabelle?” I cry out.

My father’s voice comes on the line. “Lose this number,” he orders tersely and then I get dial tone.

The arm holding my phone drops by my side and I slide down the wall, planting on my backside. My lungs drag in air, but it feels as if I can’t breathe. I’ve held it together for so long. So long. I can’t lose it now. I know if I do, I won’t ever find my way back. I’ll vanish somewhere inside myself where no one can reach.

Hold it together, I order myself, blinking fiercely.

I sit there until the second alert on my phone goes off. When it does, I stand on autopilot and walk back inside the bedroom. Jordan’s breathing is deep and even, the dark circles beneath her eyes more pronounced in the pale moonlight. Finding my clothes, I dress quietly and grab my bag. When I’m ready to leave, I lean over the bed and press a light kiss to her forehead.

Hailing a taxi, I get in and direct the driver to the airport. As we zoom off into the quiet, dark night, I pull a pill bottle from my bag. It’s labeled as ‘Percocet’ but that’s not what’s inside. I shake out a couple of downers along with some Ambien, trying to counteract the effects of Adderall so I can sleep. It works. After boarding, I pass out on the flight home.

“What the fuck did you give him?” Jaxon shouts somewhere near my ear.

At least I think it’s him screeching like a pissed off barn owl. My eyes are closed and opening them is a feat of mammoth proportions. So I don’t. I shoot out an arm and swat at where I think he might be. My efforts prove futile when I encounter air and I giggle. Then I giggle because I’m giggling, and only girls do that.

“I’m a fucking girl,” I slur.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. He’s my best bud. My roommate. Together forever. “In electric dreams,” I wail loudly, breaking out in song. It’s an oldie but my sister loves the song. Fucking loves it. I know that’s supposed to make me sad, but I giggle again.

A hand smacks me across the face, cutting me off. It doesn’t hurt. I can’t feel a thing. I’m epic. I’m Captain America.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn whoever it was. Just because I can’t feel shit doesn’t mean I’m everyone’s punching bag.