His friend blows out a big puff of smoke and coughs. “You’re a legend, B. Mad respect.” He points to his bong. “You wanna hit this?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually looking for Oakley. Have you guys seen him?”

They exchange a glance.

“Nah,” one of them says. “Not since the fight.”

“But Cole’s outside in the hot tub,” his friend adds. “O-dawg might be with him.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I start to walk away, but they halt me.

“Yo, B. Maybe next time you fight, you can pop a titty out or something.” He swishes an imaginary basketball. “Try to go viral and be on some next level shit. Know what I’m saying?”

God help me if I ever take social or career advice from these guys.

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

With a short wave, I leave them to their bong and make my way outside.

Tiny strings of light illuminate the path leading to the large hot tub stationed on the far side of the patio.

And just like they said, it’s where I find Cole.

With the exception of a few people passed out on some patio chairs, he’s all alone.

However, there’s a good chance he’ll know where Oakley went.

His eyes are closed, and the back of his head is resting on the ledge of the jacuzzi when I approach.

He’s so relaxed I have to clear my throat to get his attention.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you knew where Oakley was. I need a ride home.”

He opens one eye. “Didn’t you come here with Sawyer?”

“Yeah, but I told her to go home because she was late for curfew.”

Stretching his arm out, he plucks a nearby Solo cup off the edge. “Last time I saw him was right after we put the kibosh on your rumble with Britney and Casey.” He takes a leisurely sip of his drink. “Have you tried calling him?”

“Yeah.” I turn on my heel, preparing to go back inside. “Thanks anyway. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Not so fast.” He pats the edge of the tub. “Step into my office. We need to have a little chat.”

Whatever’s in that cup of his must be strong. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

His lips twitch. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Sorry, I’m not…no.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Curiosity dances across his face as he maneuvers to the side of the tub closest to me. “But I can’t help wondering…” His voice trails off, inviting me to either fill in the rest of his statement or inquire about it.

“Fine, I’ll bite. Wonder what?”

His expression turns angelic. “M-m-maybe if I t-t-talked like t-t-this.”

It’s like a sucker punch right to the gut. Before I can stop myself, my hand strikes his cheek. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I cried myself to sleep after I found out Liam had passed, and again after it became clear Jace no longer wanted to talk to me, and I had lost not one, but two people I cared about.

Eventually, I forced myself to tuck my feelings about Liam’s death in the same box with my mom.

However, being taunted with his memory by his identical twin is not only downright ruthless, it sends a rush of pain crashing to the surface.

Tears spring to my eyes and I clutch my chest.

Liam should be here…but he’s not. My friend is never coming back.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as my brain processes what I’ve done. “I’m so sorry.”

Cole starts to say something, but I’m already running back to the house.

It hurts too much. I can’t breathe. I can’t…

A force slams into me and I stumble, but a steel grip captures my upper arm, righting me before I fall on my ass.

“Watch where you’re going,” Jace bites out.

The fact that he’s shirtless and there are two girls in bikinis trailing behind him are insignificant. My focus is on the tattoo across his chest.

Scrawled in thick black script, the words, My Brother’s Keeper sit perched above a pair of intricate angel wings spanning over each pec.

A lump rises in my throat as a fresh wave of pain washes over me. Liam.

Impulsively, I brush my fingertips over the ink.

Jace sucks in a sharp breath…then whacks my hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“I—” I shake my head, feeling stupid for doing something so personal. So insensitive. “I’m sorry.”

Curling my arms around myself, I push past Jace and the bikini-clad girls.

I need to find Oakley so I can leave. Being here, dealing with these buried emotions…it’s all too much.

Chapter 23

Dylan

I’ve been searching for Oakley for over twenty minutes, and there’s still no sign of him.

In a last-ditch effort, I climb the staircase, preparing to barge through every door I come across.

After checking the first two bedrooms and pissing off two couples in the throes of passion, I make my way to the one stationed at the end of the hall.

The door is closed, so I knock a few times.

When I don’t get a response from the other side, I let myself in.

The room is dim, but I spot Oakley right away. He’s alone and sprawled out in the middle of a king-sized bed.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I hate to wake him, but the sooner he hands me his keys, the sooner he can sleep in his own bed.

“Come on, party animal.” I tap his ankle. “It’s time to go home.”

He makes a low noise in the back of his throat.

“Oak.” I pat his leg. “Get up.”

He squints at me through bloodshot pupils. “It’s you.”

“Yup, it’s me. Sawyer had to leave.” I scan the nightstand for his keys but come up empty. “Where are your keys?”

His lids lower. “Huh?”

Placing my knee on the bed for support, I start digging through his pockets.

“I miss you.”

His speech is so slurred, I almost don’t hear him.

Evidently Oakley is the I love everyone kind of drunk.

I rub his shoulder. “Miss you, too. But you know what else we’re missing? Your keys. Do you remember…” Nope, no point in asking. He won’t. Shifting on the bed, I try my best to get into the back pockets of his pants.

He closes his eyes in pain. “You’re killing me.”

Dramatic, much? “Sorry, but I need to find your car keys.”

His hands frame my face. “I can’t.” His hooded, glassy eyes become even glassier and his voice cracks. “It hurts.”

I blink, unsure what to do or say. Drunk or not, there’s a lot of conviction behind those words and my heart aches for him.

Oakley deserves happiness. But even more than that? He deserves the freedom to love who he wants.

His grip becomes tighter and he trembles. “I can’t take it.”

Oh, man. I’ve always been bad at this sort of thing. However, I want him to know I’m here for him and he will get through this.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m here—”