With Oakley dead in a ditch or scrubbing for change on a street corner for his next hit.

“He’s hurting Dylan.” Anger flashes in his gaze. “I can handle Oakley’s fuck-ups, but Dylan can’t. Last night after he left, she cried herself to sleep because he got high, and that is not fucking okay.”

I snort. “Sounds like your little goodie-two-shoes needs to get a grip.”

I’m glad Jace is happy, but his girlfriend’s been at the top of my shit list these days.

After shit went down with Sawyer a few months ago, Jace read me the riot act and told me to stay away from her because Dylan would kick my ass if I hurt her precious bestie again.

When I told him I’d like to see her try, he said she wouldn’t get the chance, because he’d rip off my throwing arm and shove it up my ass.

It wasn’t the first time he took someone else’s side over mine.

He shoves me. “Don’t be a dick, asshole. She’s worried about him.” His shoulders slump on an exhale. “We both are.” The edges of his lips whiten with a deep scowl. “But I’m not gonna waste my time or energy explaining that to someone like you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Dylan’s worried about Oakley because she loves him.” He starts walking away. “Which is something you’ll never understand the concept of because you’re way too goddamn selfish.”

He’s not wrong.

Bianca’s already diagnosed me as a sociopath due to my narcissism and lack of empathy.

I told her it was because I had yet to meet anyone worth giving a single fuck about.

She muttered God must have gotten his wires crossed and gave Liam all the compassion…and me all the evil.

So I asked her where Liam’s compassion was when he secured a rope around his neck and left his family to find his corpse hanging in a closet during breakfast.

Then I smiled when she ran off crying.

“Good chat,” I bite out as he wanders down the hall. “I’ll make sure to tell Oakley to come over for breakfast around nine. Maybe you can make everyone pancakes…just like old times.”

His response is a somber shake of his head and a middle finger.

Jace will never admit it, but I know exactly what he’s thinking.

The wrong twin died that day.

Chapter 4

Sawyer

“I don’t know what to do,” Dylan whispers from our seats in the stands.

After the football game, Jace went off to talk to his brother—the asshole who shall not be named—and I asked Dylan if everything was okay because she looked stressed.

Poor girl practically came apart at the seams, which is alarming because Dylan’s not one to lose her shit.

It’s how I know things are bad.

“Should I tell my uncle about the affair?”

Wincing, I shake my head. “I think that will only make Oakley’s problems worse. He’s avoiding his dad because he can’t face telling him the truth, remember?”

“No, he’s avoiding Crystal because she’s pregnant and Oakley still has feelings for her.” She makes a face. “He’s turning to drugs because he doesn’t have the courage to tell his dad what happened.”

Can’t say I blame the guy. I’m not sure I’d be able to deal with the guilt or have the guts to drop that bomb on my dad either.

Given Crystal’s baby isn’t Oakley’s, I can only assume it’s her husband’s. Which means he or she is Oakley’s little brother or sister.

A brother or sister he might not ever see if his father disowns him.

A brother or sister who could end up with a broken home, and without a parent if his dad divorces his wife.

Talk about a rock and a hard spot.

However, drugs aren’t going to fix any of his issues. If anything, they’re only going to create more.

“Look, I know it’s hard to hear, but if Oakley’s using drugs, you might have to give him some tough love and keep your distance.”

“No.” Determination flickers in her blue orbs. “I didn’t give up on Jace when he took his grief out on me, and I’m not giving up on Oakley for trying to numb the pain my aunt caused.”

Swear Dylan has more perseverance in her pinky than most people have during their entire lifetime.

It’s one of the many reasons we clicked and why I love her so much.

The girl doesn’t take any shit and gives it back even better than she gets… but deep down, she’ll never truly give up on those she loves.

Even when they don’t deserve it.

“I know, and I’m definitely not saying you should. But I do think you need to set some boundaries and make it clear you don’t want to be around him if he’s high.”

Well, high on anything other than weed. Because Lord knows that boy smokes more than a chimney.

Rubbing her palms on her jeans, she nods. “You’re right. I just don’t want him to think I don’t care and push him away.”

“You won’t. If anything, it will show him how much you care and how worried you are. Kind of like a mini intervention.” I clutch my cup of hot chocolate. “Oak’s a big softie deep down, and he loves you. I’m sure hearing how scared you are and how much he’s hurting you will make him stop.”

I hope.

To be honest, I really have no experience with drugs or dealing with addicts.

All I know is they tend to hurt the people they love…over and over again.

I really hope for Dylan’s—but more importantly, Oakley’s sake—he turns it around.

“I suppose it’s dumb to ask if he ever contacted you about tutoring, huh?”

I hate that I have to crush the hopeful look on my friend’s face. “No, but I can try texting him again if you want.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “No, it’s okay. Oakley’s a big boy. If he doesn’t graduate again, it’s on him.”

Her words might’ve been convincing if it wasn’t for the distraught look in her eyes.

Reaching over, I grab her hand. “He’ll be okay.”

“What if he’s not?”

“Then we’ll keep trying to figure out a way to make sure he is.”

Giving my hand a squeeze, she smiles. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you.”

She doesn’t have to thank me for being a friend.

“Jace is…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Let’s just say he’s not as supportive as you are when it comes to Oakley’s problems. He’s really angry with him.”

That doesn’t surprise me. Not only is Jace a straight edge like me and Dylan, he doesn’t have a high tolerance for bullshit.

Something Oakley brings a lot of.

The two of them being close friends always struck me as strange. Oakley has way more in common with a certain asshole who shall not be named.

The one who drinks like a fish and parties like the world is ending every weekend.

As if on cue, I spot the evil queen and her knight in shining armor. Or as I like to call him—her cocky dipshit in tin foil—standing on a makeshift stage along with the rest of the homecoming nominees.