I spent the night in my car in a constant cross-faded state.

Emptiness.

Perfection.

I woke up in the backseat, sweating like a pig. Moaning, I reached for my phone in the console; twenty-four missed calls. I didn’t bother to check whom they were from. Instead, I climbed back into the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition, and drove back to the abandoned field.

And then I started all over again.

Clayton had introduced me to weed. He’d said that I would probably encounter it sometime, and just like my first kiss, he’d wanted to be the one to show me. He’d told me that I shouldn’t smoke often, but if I ever felt like I needed to, he had to be there so he could stop me when I wanted to fall too deep. Too far.

But then I’d have bad days, like the anniversary of my mother’s death. Days where the pain was so unbearable, I wanted to forget all about it—about her and about my chances. But it wasn’t limited to just that one day a year. The older I got, the more pain I felt. And the more I wanted to forget.

The weed-booze mix was perfect when I wanted to lose myself. It was my nirvana.

The Road had been my master plan since I was thirteen. Not just because I wanted to see and appreciate the little things the world had to offer, but because I thought it would be easier not to feel for anyone—and vice versa—if I was never in the same place long enough to develop any meaningful relationships.

But the longer I stayed, the harder it got.

Like when Sammy had introduced me as his sister to his pre-K teacher. Or when Harry had asked me for advice on relationships and I hadn’t had the answers. For a second, though, I’d let myself think about it, and what it would be like to actually have a relationship or to fall in love. To have someone who loved me, regardless of my future. Regardless of the cancer. And regardless of how much of my life I could possibly give them. I’d thought about having kids. Raising them. Maybe fostering some, like Mary and Dean. And then I’d thought about how they would be at risk. And that at some point, that risk could take their lives. And all because I was selfish and wanted something for myself: a white picket fence, a beautiful husband, maybe with dark shaggy hair and perfectly clear blue eyes. And kids. Lots of kids.

See?

Selfish.

At some point, I’d wanted more than just the emptiness inside of me. And one night, when I’d been walking past a house party and had seen a bunch of kids flowing out the door and onto the front yard, I’d gotten it.

I didn’t remember his name. I didn’t remember what he looked like. All I knew was that we’d had sex, it’d hurt like a bitch, and that he’d used a condom.

Blake

I’d tried calling Chloe no less than a million times, give or take. She’d never answered. When I went to her house, Mary and Dean said she was out, and that they’d tried phoning but had gotten the same response. They said not to worry, that she’d disappear for a while when things got to be too much for her but she’d always come back fine. I asked if I could wait for her there. They both gave me a sympathetic smile but agreed. I waited on her porch steps for three hours. She never showed.

Then my phone beeped with a text. It was from Will: Your new girlfriend’s looking hot these days, and he’d included a picture of Chloe leaning against a wall. Her eyes were shut, makeup a mess all over her face. She had a bottle of something in her hand, but her grasp was loose, as if she was about to drop it.

I knew where the party was because everyone at school had been talking about it all week. I got in my car and sped the entire way there.

The volume of the music increased tenfold when I opened the door. I was already scanning the room for Chloe before I’d even fully stepped inside. “Hunter!” Sophie, Hannah’s best friend, was walking over to me. She plastered her body onto mine and wrapped her arms around my neck. I was trying to pull her off me when I caught sight of a mess of blonde hair and the tiny girl it was attached to.

She was coming out of the hallway, with one hand resting on the wall next to her, helping to keep her balance. Her head was down as she stumbled into the living room. She took another step, but her ankle twisted from her stupidly high heels. Will was there to catch her fall. And then she raised her head, her eyes half-hooded. She tried to straighten up with Will’s hand on her waist. She curled her arm around his neck and brought his face to hers.

My gasp was so sharp it surprised even me. The assholes around him cheered while he handed them his beer and pressed her up against the wall—not once breaking apart from their kiss. I wanted to move. I wanted to get him the fuck off her. But my feet were leaden, planted to the floor. His hand on her waist moved lower, past the hem of her short dress and onto her bare thigh. Then he gripped the back of it, pulling her leg up so his dick could get closer to where I was sure he wanted in. Another round of cheers; but they were drowned out by the rushing of blood in my eardrums. He pulled back slightly; whatever he must’ve said to her seemed to deserve high fives and pats on the fucking back. He dropped her leg, grabbed her hand and then led her down the hall.

Fuck. No.

I finally pried Sophie’s arms from around my neck and put one foot in front of the other. It was slow, my movements still getting accustomed to their apparent weight. By the time I’d made it to the hallway, every single muscle in my body ached from the tension. But my mind—my mind was clear. I pushed open every door possible, ignoring the screams or “fuck offs” I got when I interrupted something. I didn’t leave until I was sure it wasn’t Chloe in the room. By the time I got to the last door, my rage was all consuming. The door was locked, but I just kicked it down. Will’s mouth was on her breast, and his hand was down her panties.