“Fine!” Kim shook her head and walked toward the bedroom. “Let me just get my stuff real quick okay? I don’t care what you say, it’s freezing outside.”

Five minutes turned into thirty by the time Kim was ready. I grabbed the key to our hotel room and ran down the hall with her in tow. At sixteen it seemed kind of forbidden that we would be able to stay in the same suite, but my agent had said it was great publicity. We were basically the next teen heart throb couple and everyone wanted to see us together.

Which really wasn’t a problem, considering I was freaking obsessed with the girl. Her life, her smile. Hell. I would marry her at sixteen and she knew it.

“Ready?” I asked once we were outside. There weren’t any clouds in the sky, just stars. I winked at Kim. She shook her head and laughed, looking away as if embarrassed. Damn, I was lucky.

“Ready.”

“One, two—”

“Wait!” Kim touched her head. “I forgot my helmet.”

“One run.” I tried not to sound irritated. We were already going to be late to the party. “It won’t kill you. I swear.”

Kim looked uncertain. Didn’t she trust me to protect her?

“Well, okay.” She aimed her skis down the hill.

“One, two—”

“Three!” She squealed and went flying down the run, leaving me in the powder. Laughing, I went after her. I could hear every swipe of her skis, and then all of a sudden I heard a scream.

Then nothing.

“Kim?” I screamed, “You okay?”

I wasn’t going to make it.

I ran over to my bike and puked on the other side, wiping my face with the back of my hand. No matter what my dad did, no matter who found out about my true identity, one thing would always remain. It was my fault, my cross to bear, and there weren’t enough prayers that could save my soul from burning in hell for what I’d done. For what I was still doing.

Once I’d puked my guts out — relieved myself of that bad ass Captain Crunch — I sat on my bike. Visions of the hot piano player ran through my head. I should have apologized instead of being an ass. Dry spell? Yeah, let’s blame it on that.

How was it my fault anyway? That she’d been spying on me? Or that she was sexy as hell. Was she new? I shook my head. Probably not. The University of Washington was a huge school and it wasn’t like I was a music major or anything — it was too close to my past, I had to stay far away from any hints of the guy I used to be, the guy I was running away from.

Cursing, I kicked the back wheel of my bike. The crisp spring air had a hint of moisture in it, causing an involuntary shiver to wreak havoc on my body. I pulled out my phone and dialed Wes’s number. We needed to finish that conversation. Because if there was anyone that could help me, it was him. Wes and I were exact opposites. He represented everything I was running away from, yet he was different. A miracle. That’s what he was. He’d conquered cancer this last year. He was also son to one of the richest men in the US — though you’d never know it from hanging out with him.

I’d met him this last year and promised, damn it, I’d promised I’d try harder to be a better person and I’d just screwed that promise. I hadn’t slept around for weeks since his surgery. Clearing my head seemed like a good idea, and I couldn’t do that while banging every girl within a twenty mile radius.

To be honest, I hadn’t been tempted.

Not until this afternoon.

Gorgeousforbidden. Those two words came to mind. Long chestnut hair with blonde streaks fell around her face in waves, her large blue eyes almost looked purple, and that tan skin.

I hated to admit it but she was like a hotter version of Miley Cyrus, you know, before she went all blonde and baller.

“Shit.” I hit Wes’s name and waited.

It rang and then I got his voicemail.

“I’m coming by.” That’s all I said. I hoped he was there and just not answering his phone. He was an RA at Lisa’s dorm and usually hung around as much as possible, considering his fiancée and love of his life was my cousin’s roommate. Lucky me, I was surrounded with all-American happy, and all I wanted to do was get high and prove I was nothing like them.

I started my bike and made my way across campus. By the time I pulled up, I’d made a list of hundreds of different things I’d rather be doing — proactive things like calling my out-of-this-world expensive lawyer and getting his ass on my dad so that nothing happened.

But, instead, of doing any of those things, I paused. I was doing that a lot lately, hesitating when I knew I should be taking action. I’d done it with Kiersten, Wes’s girlfriend. I’d wanted so badly to be that guy for her. The one who brought flowers and wiped her tears, and when it came time to actually put any of that into action, my hesitation said it all. She was meant for something bigger, because in the end, I’d always let people down. I could be her friend. I could be Wes’s friend. Hell, I could even been a good cousin to Lisa, but I’d never end up with anyone. My soul mate? I’d already met her.

And it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

I turned off my bike as my phone rang in my hands.

“Hey, Martha.” I bit down on my lip. I didn’t need this, not now.

“Parker, I’m glad we could—”

“It’s Gabe.”

“Right,” she said rapidly. “Sorry, it’s just… she only calls you Parker so I tend to forget.”

“Martha, I’m kind of busy, what’s this about?” I shifted my weight to the other foot and waited.

“She’s asking for you.”

I laughed bitterly. “She always asks for me. They all do.”

“Yes, I know, but, Parker — I mean Gabe…” I could hear the sadness in her voice. “It’s bad this time. Could you stop by? Maybe bring your guitar or something? I know she loves that. Or color, she’s been going through that weird coloring phase. The entire place has!” Her excitement should have rubbed off, but instead, all I wanted to do was get high. I wanted an escape.

But I didn’t deserve one. Maybe that was the problem.

“Yeah.” I wiped my face with my hands. “I can do that. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks… Gabe.”

“Anytime, Martha. Take care.”

I hung up and stared at the dorm. Wes was a freaking miracle worker, no joke, like a walking male version of Mother Theresa.

Shit. I may as well be the devil.

Chapter Six

He tasted like cinnamon — too bad I was allergic to cinnamon. Good thing I didn’t go into anaphylactic shock from the kiss. That would have been awkward. —Saylor


Saylor


I wasn’t really sure how long I stared at the piano before I was able to function enough to play. Each time I tried to lift my hands, all I could picture were his. They’d had music notes on each knuckle.

Why I’d remember such a ridiculous detail, I had no idea. But it seemed weird that a guy who looked like that was capable of the music that had come from the practice room. What had come out of his mouth when the door was closed was completely the opposite of what he looked like and how he’d acted when I was eavesdropping.

Maybe it was my fault. After all, I’d been salivating over the music like a dog in heat. It was my weakness, my downfall. I hadn’t heard those songs in a long time, they pulled at something deep within me, some untouched part that I longed to unleash but was too afraid to tap into. Funny, because it had nothing to do with the actual song, but the way it was played — with such passion and abandonment that I was immediately jealous.

It was why my music major wasn’t performance, as the asshat had assumed. It was music theory. I wanted to be a professor. I wanted safe. Safe meant I’d have a job, that I’d be able to pay off my ridiculous student loans, and that I wouldn’t fail.

Safe was all I had. Because when you took chances you got hurt and I was so done being hurt. Most people went to college hoping for an adventure — I’d be happy with a diploma and a mug with my alma mater on it. Nothing was more important to me than not having to worry.

Typical for someone who’s been taking care of her family for the past few years. I was all my little brother and my mom had. They were counting on me to make something of myself so that I could, in turn, provide for them.

And it wasn’t even like they were asking a lot. They just wanted me to graduate and find a job that brought in decent enough money so we wouldn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck.

I shook my head. Practice. Mom. Eric. Those were my motivators, not some tattooed, spoiled bad boy who liked attacking innocent girls in music rooms.

Nice. I was a romance novel waiting to happen.

I closed my eyes and placed my hands on the smooth keys and so began my two hour practice session.

Chapter Seven

I kept a picture of us in my pillowcase like an absolute nutjob. She’d had it in her pocket the day of the accident. I wanted it as close to my face as possible when I slept every night. Because every night I went to bed hoping it was all a bad dream, and every morning I woke up to the terrifying reality that it was not. You’d think I would stop hoping…but I’d never stop. I’d never stop praying for God to take it away. —Gabe H.


Gabe


I pulled out onto 405 South and took the exit toward the other side of Seattle. How many times had I driven this same route over the years? Through rain, snow, sleet, hail. Shit, I was like a dog with a trail in his owner’s back yard. Predictable to the extreme. I was either at school or at the Home. I increased the speed, hoping that it would decrease the sharp pain in my chest. I was messing everything up just by existing, it was too tempting. To end everything. End everyone’s misery.

Almost as tempting as dropping the whole happy-go-lucky bullshit act and actually pouring my feelings out to anyone. Hell, I’d even pour them out to Lisa at this point, but she was too close to the situation. It would just make her cry, and I hated seeing that girl cry. Correction, I hated seeing any girl cry. The last time Kiersten cried I wanted to do a freaking heart transplant so she wouldn’t hurt anymore. I would have gladly taken her pain. After all, what was one more broken heart when yours was in a constant state of being shattered?

The moist air bit into my leather jacket as I got closer to the water. I slowed down once I pulled up to the Pacific Northwest Group Home and put my bike in its usual spot.

The building had once been an old hospital but had been converted into a group home with an adjoining retirement home in the late fifties. Later it was remodeled to include a state of the art treatment center for people with brain injuries. Every time I parked in that spot, the same feelings washed over me. Dread, heartache, confusion, guilt.

Luckily, the building was a pristine white with exposed wood, making it look more like a set of cabins on the water than what it really was.

For some reason I was delaying the inevitable. My feet felt like lead as I approached the doors. It had been… different since Wes’s surgery. Or maybe I was different? Whatever it was, I wasn’t dealing with anything well.

I walked toward the main building — the treatment center — and braced myself for impact. The first steps into the entrance were always the hardest.

“Gabe!” Martha clutched a clipboard to her chest and let out a sigh of relief. “I know it’s not your normal day but—”

“It’s fine!” I flashed her a smile when I all I wanted to do was turn around and march back out to my bike and cry. I was here five days a week. You’d think it would be enough. But lately, even being there twenty-four seven wasn’t doing the trick. She was failing. And it was my fault. Martha gave me a sympathetic pat on the hand.

Aw, pity. Lovely. I cleared my throat and forced a wider smile. “You look great. Have you lost weight?”

Good call, Gabe. Just hit on the elderly because that’s been known to make everything better.

“Such a nice gentleman.” She elbowed me in the ribs as I wrapped my left arm around her, pulling her in for a hug. “I still don’t understand why you don’t find a nice young girl and settle down.”

My entire body tensed.

Did she still really not know? How in my heart that would be the final nail in the coffin? To settle down and finally — forget.