Simon sat up, heart racing. “It was the thirteenth of March. Why? What’s wrong?”

Trevor went pale. His whole body visibly went weak. He reached out, and leaned a hand on the wall to hold himself up. “Where? Where the fuck did it happen, Simon? Where did you live?”

“Outside of San Francisco. Middle of nowhere, really. Out on Route 241.”

Trevor backed farther away from Simon. He probably realized it right then but couldn’t admit it. His whole body started to ache. The pain began in his chest, in his heart, and echoed out until it took over every part of Simon’s body. “Come back to bed.” He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear anything. Simon couldn’t let himself believe it. “Come back to bed, Trevor.”

But he didn’t. He only shook his head, closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they looked frantic. “You had the door open...I saw the door open... The front of your house was mostly all windows, wasn’t it? With a huge deck out front.”

“Trevor.” No. Fuck no. This couldn’t be happening.

“Tell me!” he yelled. “Tell me I’m wrong!”

That’s when he knew. The clues had been there, hadn’t they? Trevor had been sober about as long as it had been since Simon’s injury. It had happened outside of the city. Trevor had been partying in the city before waking up in a car in the middle of nowhere. He’d seen his friend walk into a house...

Trevor only stopped backing away when he hit the far wall. “It was me. I could have stopped him. I got drunk and high with a man, drove in a car with him. We could have killed someone. I saw him walk into a house. I could have gone in, tried to stop him, but I didn’t. Instead I stumbled out of the car, got lost in the woods and almost choked on my own vomit. He ruined your whole fucking life, and I could have stopped him!” Trevor shook his head. Simon’s stomach ached more with each second. He felt like he could vomit. He just wanted Trevor to shut up, but he kept speaking. “I said earlier that I figured he was going somewhere to party, but I knew, on some level I knew he was robbing someone or something. What the fuck would he be doing at a house like that? We didn’t spend time with people who lived in houses like that. It’s why I stumbled away, so I wouldn’t be involved. I knew and I didn’t do a God Damned thing!”

Jesus Christ. The man he hated, the man who ruined his career, took Simon’s identity away from him, had been with Trevor. Trevor had seen him walk into Simon’s house, and had done nothing to stop it. Trevor had partied with him and fucked him before he let the man ruin Simon’s life. “You didn’t know.” Simon shook his head, not wanting to believe it. That’s what he had to focus on, the fact that Trevor didn’t know.

He looked up just as Trevor grabbed a pair of white sweats, and pulled them on. He leaned against the wall, still letting it hold him up. “Does that really matter, though? I still did nothing. All I had to do was call his name. Walk in and everything could have been different.”

And maybe Simon would still have his life. He would still be the man he’d always wanted to be.

Simon couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Trevor was tied to what happened to his hand. The man he loved was a part of what had taken away the most important thing in his life.

The man I love... But that didn’t even matter right now. It couldn’t. He didn’t know if he could get past this. If he had it in him to forget.

Trevor looked down, a sad smile on his face. “I knew it would be me who fucked this up. I’m sorry, baby. I love you.” Trevor grabbed a shirt. He didn’t say another word as he walked out...and Simon did nothing to stop him.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Trevor felt like his head was spinning. His gut cramped. He was splitting apart from the inside out. He was cracking, breaking, disintegrating.

There were a hundred things he could have done differently that day that could have changed Simon’s life. Not been on so many drugs. Getting out of the car. Stopping Greg.

Would he really have, though? He didn’t know. Back then he only cared about getting fucked up, if he thought there was something in Simon’s house he could use or sell, would he have stopped Greg? Please. Please tell me I would have stopped him.

Trevor leaned against his truck in front of Simon’s house. He couldn’t hold back the vomit as it crawled up his throat. His stomach aced as he emptied it in Simon’s driveway. He’d done so much shit, too much shit to remember it all.

He couldn’t say if he would have stopped Greg.