“PLEASE, SAM.”
“Baby, I can’t.” The deafening noise of the party fades as I stumble out the front door, allowing me to hear the resigned sigh coming from my phone clearly. A couple people wave hello as I pass, and I catch sight of the birthday girl cowering near the bushes, her sixteenth birthday sash caked in vomit. Yuck.
“Please.” My tongue, loosened by alcohol, trips over the plea in unison with my feet tripping down the driveway.
“Amy,” Sam groans, and I can just picture his face scrunched up in the cute little frown that I love. “I’ve had a beer and I have practice at the crack of dawn. I can’t.”
I huff and mumble something incoherent that even I can’t fully understand, earning another frustrated sigh. Kicking at the grass under my feet in frustration, I scowl at the few specks of dirt that dare ruin the white fabric of my favorite Converse. “When did you get so boring?” I whine into the phone, hiccuping loudly, sounding like a spoiled child but I don’t care; I’m drunk, cold, and I want to see my hot boyfriend. “Amy, how drunk are you?”
My heart flutters at the concern in his voice, a small smile replacing my scowl. “Come find out.”
I swear I hear the slightest laugh through the phone despite Sam’s attempts to cover it with a cough. “My mom will freak, babe.” I roll my eyes at that—such a momma’s boy. “Is Cass there? I thought he was designated driver tonight.”
Scoffing, I glance over my shoulder in time to see Cass finish chugging his umpteenth beer—he must be hitting double digits by now—and let out a victory cry as he wins his latest round of beer pong.When he spots me through the window, he grins widely, quickly tapping his knuckles against his cheek and throwing me a wink. I return the gesture before replying to Sam, “He’s drunker than I am.”
“You and your brother are a menace to society, you know that, right?”
I grin, eyes still trained on my brother as he switches from beer pong to dancing like a fool with a bunch of the boys. They all have practice in the morning too. Of course, I had to choose the only responsible guy on the team to go out with.
“Menace to society,” I repeat thoughtfully, chewing on my lip. “I want that written on my gravestone.”
Sam can’t hide his laugh this time. “I’ll carve it on there myself.”
I giggle at his joke before I remember I’m mad at him and my lips fall back into a pout. “So you’re not gonna come get me?” I don’t need him to come get me, not really. One of my friends is bound to be playing DD tonight since a couple of them have gotten their licences recently and they’re dying to show them off. I just want to see Sam. I’ve barely seen him outside of school all week because of freaking practice.
I miss my damn boyfriend. Sue me.
“No, baby,” Sam says softly, his voice quiet and apologetic, and I almost feel bad for the move I’m about to pull.
Almost.
“Fine.” I feign a contemplative sigh and amble further down the drive until the party noise completely fades away. “I’ll walk home.” I hold my breath, bottom lip between my teeth. There’s the briefest of pauses before Sam lets out a defeated laugh and I hear the tell-tale sound of keys jingling.
“I’m on my way.”
Swallowing a squeal, I plop down on the sidewalk and smile at my feet. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
Twenty minutes later and I’m still in the same position.
It shouldn’t take this long. He lives ten minutes away, tops, and it’s the middle of the night—even his piece of crap car can get here in less time than that when there’s no traffic.
I’m two minutes away from stomping back inside in a huff, convinced he ditched me, when I hear the rumble of an engine and I’m momentarily blinded by a pair of headlights. I shield my eyes as a door slams and a tall figure rounds the front of the car, a handsome face playfully glaring at me. “We’re in big shit with my mom, young lady,” Sam scolds as he pulls me to my feet, a gleam in his eyes that assures he’s not really mad.
Batting my eyelashes, I flash him puppy-dog eyes, popping my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
Immune to my charms after all this time, Sam snickers. ‘No, you’re not.’
“Yeah you’re right, I’m really not,” I agree, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’ll grovel to your mom tomorrow about stealing her favourite son away,” I promise before pressing my lips to his.
He kisses me back for a brief moment before pulling away and making a face. “Since when do you drink beer?”
“Since your buddies on the baseball team decided to give it out for free.”
Sam shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about teammates getting their asses kicked in the morning before pecking me again. Hands slipping down my back, Sam pats my ass before nudging me towards his car. “C’mon, my little wild child. Let’s get you home.”
I bat at his chest as he slips an arm around my waist, letting me use him as support for my wobbly limbs. “I am not a child. Or little!”
“Hey, I’m not the one who calls you Tiny.”
I glare at him as he opens the passenger door and ushers me inside. “Cass is sixteen too, you don’t call him a child.”
Sam grins cheekily and wiggles his eyebrows. “I don’t call Cass a lot of the things that I call you.”
Huffing a laugh, I punch his arm lightly, ducking my head to hide my blush. His lips ghost the bare skin of my shoulder before he closes the door, and I wince at the screeching sound the hinges make. This thing is a freaking hazard on wheels but Sam adores it and I adore him, therefore I tolerate the pile of crap.
Sam slips into the driver’s seat and said pile of crap starts up with a bang. As we leave the party in our rear-view mirror, I shoot Cass a quick text letting him know I’m safe before tossing my phone in the glovebox.
“So,” Sam glances at me quickly and quirks a brow, “good night, I’m assuming?”
“Would’ve been better if you were there.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for being dedicated to the game.”
“Cass is dedicated,” I point out. “He still finds time for fun.”
“Cass is a freak of nature.”
Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that—Cass has more natural talent in his pinky finger than I have in my entire body, than the team has combined. He could play an entire game drunk and he’d probably still wipe the floor with everyone.
A comfortable silence settles between Sam and I. He hums along with the radio under his breath, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he focuses on the road ahead, ever the diligent driver as he always is when I’m in the car.
My head falls against the headrest as I watch him silently, admiring him. God, he’s so pretty it hurts. He really filled out this year, his borderline lanky limbs thickening, becoming more defined. He let his hair grow out too, and I freaking love it. There’s a couple stray light brown curls falling in his face, and my hands itch to reach out and tuck it behind his ear but I fear my arms won’t cooperate. I’d probably bop him in the eye and send the car into a tailspin by accident.
Blue eyes shine at me as Sam side-eyes, a sly smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Stop looking at me like that, Amy.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to sneak you into my room.”
I drop my head, again trying to hide a blush, wiggling in my seat as a thrill of excitement pools in my stomach. We had sex the first time a few weeks ago, and now every time he looks at me the way he’s looking at me right now I get all… flustered.
“Why don’t you?” I coo as sexily as I can, cringing internally as I slur my words and silently cursing Cass for learning the recipe to one of James’ godforsaken alcoholic concoctions. I swear, a junior in college and all my eldest brother has learned is how to make severe hangover inducing beverages.
Sam groans, one hand leaving the wheel to rake through his hair. “Because you’re drunk, babe.”
“I’m tipsy,” I correct with a wag of my finger. Sam opens his mouth, probably to argue further but he doesn’t get a chance; my abrupt squeal cuts him off. My fingers find the volume control of the radio and crank it all the way up, a familiar song booming throughout the car. “It’s our song, Sammy.”
Is it borderline embarrassing that I’ve christened Maroon 5’s ‘She Will Be Loved’ as our song purely because it was in movie we watched on our first date? Absolutely.
Do I care? Absolutely not.
I belt the words as loud as possible, dance in my seat as hard as the confines of my seatbelt will let me, beaming when Sam goes along with it. He always does. He says it’s because he loves me but I know the truth; it’s the song he loves. I give him until the second chorus before his tone-deaf voice drowns out mine.
It all happens so fast.
One second, we’re singing at the top of our lungs.
The next, Sam’s yelling my name, the arm closest to me flying out and crushing me back against my seat. There’s an awful screeching sound as the car stammers to a halt, and a motorbike whizzes past, coming dangerously close to smashing right into us.
“Fucking hell,” Sam swears loudly after a tense moment, reaching out to turn down the radio.“What a dipshit.”
I exhale shakily, my hands clinging to the arm still banded across my chest. When he goes to start the car again, I let go of him reluctantly, noting he’s trembling as bad as I am. “You okay?” I nod quickly, asking the same question and receiving the same answer. “Shit, that was scary.”
Sam grips my thigh reassuringly as we start up again, his driving even more cautious than he was before. Blue eyes meet mine again momentarily, offering comfort as he opens his mouth to speak but whatever he says is drowned out by his name leaving my lips on a scream.
It’s like the world slows down.
Glass shatters, metal crunches, my head flies forward and smacks against the dashboard. It feels like we’re flying or flipping, I’m not sure, and I don’t how long it lasts but eventually, the world becomes still. Vaguely, I recognize we’re upside down.
Blood.
There’s so much blood.
I can taste it on my tongue, smell the metallic scent in the air, feel it dripping down my forehead and flooding my eyes. A nagging voice in my head whispers that the blood isn’t mine. I think it’s right. I don’t hurt yet I’m covered in red.
Sam.
My neck screams in pain as I turn to look for him, relief flooding me when I find him still sitting beside me. I say his name, weak as hell, too weak I think because he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t react. He stares at me, wide-eyed and terrified. I think I scream and still, he doesn’t react. I reach for him but it feels like I’m underwater, or moving through mud, and black spots flood my vision with the exertion.
I blink rapidly, fighting against my eyelids as they fall shut but it’s futile. The blackness spreads until there’s nothing but darkness.
As I drift towards unconsciousness, all I can think of is the beautiful, pale boy, looking but not seeing.
My brother is crying.
That’s the sound and image that greets me when I wake up.
There’s beeping too, a whole lot of beeping. Too bright lights buzzing loudly. Hushed voices coming from a TV, I think. And I hurt. I hurt really bad, one of my legs and my head throbbing in equal measure. But it’s the quiet sobs that I zone in on, the ones coming from the boy curled in a plastic chair that only fits half his lanky body.
“Cassie?” His name scratches my dry throat, making me cough.
Cass sits up so quickly he almost falls to the floor. Wild, watery eyes land on me and widen, almost in disbelief. He’s at my side in an instant, the legs of his chair scraping the tiled ground and making me wince. “Holy shit.” His arms engulf me, trapping him against his chest as he hugs me hard, probably too hard for someone in a hospital bed.
Why the hell am I in a hospital bed?
A pang shoots through my head as he pulls away abruptly, gaze raking over me as he holds me at arm’s length, his face and tone equally fierce. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
Confused, I rub the back of my head, frowning at the needle in my hand. “What happened?” No sooner have I asked the question than the memories come flooding back.
Accident. We were in an accident.
I feel the blood drain from my face as I squeeze my eyes closed. My hands tremble as I’m hit with a million images, only one of them managing to push their way to the forefront. “Where’s Sam?”
Silence. Deafening, terrifying silence.
Streams of tears wet Cass’ cheeks, flowing like a river, and he doesn’t even try to wipe them away. I’ve never see him cry before. Not once. Not even when we broke our wrists, not even when we broke our wrists ice-skating; I cried like a baby, he laughed through the pain.
A sinking feeling turns my stomach. “Cassie, where is he?”
His sob is all the answer I need yet he provides me with words anyway. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. He’s gone.”
My head jerks back like he’s slapped me. Bile rises in my throat as two little words obliterate my entire world. “That’s not funny.”
He’s not laughing.
Blue eyes. Looking but not seeing.
“No.” One word, said with such determination that Cass visibly flinches. There’s no way. It’s impossible. He wouldn’t leave me, he would never leave me, not like this.
There is no way.
Except Cass is crying and Cass doesn’t cry, and Cass doesn’t lie either, not to me.
“No,” I repeat, again and again until it’s no longer a word. It’s a cry, a plea, a hysterical scream that has more people rushing into the room in a panic. I make out James’ face among the crowd and the word dies on my lips because suddenly, I know.
Cass crying is cause for concern.
James crying is devastating.
A body slides between me and the pillows at my back, tucking me against a hard chest as James pulls me into his grasp, careful not to jostle my bandaged leg but it wouldn’t matter if he did; I can’t feel a thing. His other arm wraps around Cass, tugging him closer, and our brother holds us as we sob, his smooth voice breaking as he whispers words of consolation. Empty words, because I can’t be consoled.
I don’t deserve to be consoled.
My boyfriend is dead and it’s my fault.
