“If you go there, man, you’ll sound just like Nova,” I warn as I graze my thumb along the bottom of the cigarette, sprinkling ash everywhere.

“That’s a compliment.” He flicks the butt to the ground then turns to go inside, but pauses in the doorway. “I don’t miss it at all. That life. I think about what we could have been—how Dylan and Delilah turned out—and I’m glad… that I didn’t end up like either of them.”

I hesitate. He’s said this to me before. Usually, I just brush him off, but now, the need to say something back burns at my tongue. Before I can even comprehend what I’m doing, I’m opening my mouth.

“You know what? I’m glad I didn’t, either.”

Two years and seven months earlier…

Chapter 27

I want to give up.

Avery

I want to give up. That’s all I can think anymore. Surrender. Stop breathing. Give Conner what he wants every time he raises his fist.

The kicking.

The yelling.

Getting beaten down.

Sinking into the ground.

Vanishing into a ghost.

Soon, all there’ll be left of me is bones.

“I f**king hate you.” Conner bashes his fist against my cheek. I almost feel the pain through the alcohol in my system, but not quite. “You are so f**king worthless.” Hate burns in his eyes, and his venomous tone conveys the truth. He does loathe me. Blames me.

And now he wants to destroy me.

I used to fight. Used to feel. Used to want to live.

But now…

I can’t find the will to care.

So I let him beat me until I’m bloody and battered and curled up on the floor. Only then does he feel satisfied enough to step away and lower his fists.

He takes a good look at me and shakes his head as he wipes my blood from his face. “See what you make me do!” he shouts.

I start to cry, not for myself, but because Mason calls out from his bedroom.

“Great! And now you’ve woken him up.”

I don’t utter a word, even as he waits for me to speak. My silence seems to enrage him, and he starts pacing the small space of the living room between the sofa and the bookshelf.

“You are so goddamn annoying. Seriously, I bust my balls for you, trying to give you more money like you asked, but nothing is ever good enough for you.” He stops and stares down at me with his bloodshot eyes.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe. I listen to the sound of my heart thrashing in my chest, hating it.

“Why can’t you be grateful?” As he crouches down beside me, I close my eyes. “I’m dealing drugs so you can be happy. Do you know how many husbands will do that?”

I don’t answer him. Yes, I hate that he deals drugs, have told him so. But every time I open my mouth, I anger him. And then he hits me and paints his knuckles with my blood. Somehow, it makes him feel better until the next time I open my mouth.

“Fuck you,” he finally says, standing back up. “I’m out of here. You’re worthless.” He storms out the door, and I hear glass shatter, but I don’t move—can’t move—because I know he’s right. I am worthless. I’m broken.

And I don’t really care.

About anything anymore.

Chapter 28

I don’t care about anything.

Tristan

I’m curled up on the ground with my arms over my head. With each kick, I become more broken. With each hit, I die a little bit more on the inside. The drugs numb the pain, make it easier to take the beating I knew was coming. And this isn’t even the worst of it.

“If you don’t come up with the money, this is going to be a lot worse,” Trace says with another kick to my gut, knocking the wind out of me. “I mean it, Tristan. Tell me you get it, or else I’m going to have to keep beating your dumb ass.”

“I get it,” I croak, rolling onto my back as blood fills my mouth. I don’t focus on him, but the sky, and it makes it easier to pretend I’m somewhere else. But then his face moves into my line of vision and reality creeps back in.

“You only have a few days left to get me the money you owe.” He leans over me, massaging his raw knuckles that are coated with my blood. “And if I were you, I’d try to clean up your act. You make a shitty druggie, Tristan.”

“I make a shitty everything,” I mutter.

He shakes his head before walking away.

As fear surfaces, I realize the meth I did earlier is wearing off. I start to feel. And I hate feeling.

It takes me forever to get up, and when I do, my legs ache so badly I can scarcely walk. Luckily, I’m close to the apartment that I live in and eventually make it there. I should go up to my place and clean up my act like Trace said, but I am a druggie, and I think with my addiction. It guides me to the bottom floor, to a door where I know I can get a hit.

Cami opens the door after two knocks, looking high as a kite, just how I want to look right now, every day, every second, for the rest of my life.

“I knew you’d take me up on my offer,” she says, not commenting on the fact that I’m bleeding from my mouth and chin.

She’s wearing only a bra and shorts, her skin hanging loosely on her boney body. I’m not attracted to her at all, but then again, I haven’t been attracted to any of the women I’ve slept with. The only one I want is out of my league. Nova. Good, sweet Nova, who never wanted me back.

“I need it first, though,” I say, cringing at what I’m about to do. Cami is a crack whore and sells her body for drugs. I’ve never judged her. I get that sometimes you have to do shameful things to feed the monster living inside you. And now I’m going to f**k Cami, all so I can get a taste of what my mind thinks it needs.

No, I need it.

I really do.

She moves back from the doorway and lets me inside her small apartment that’s littered with garbage, pipes, and a few boxes. I stumble to the tattered sofa and anxiously wait as Cami kneels down in front of me, holding a mirror dotted with white powder. When she hands it to me along with a hollow pen, my nose drinks the toxic crystals up.

Suddenly, I feel nothing. No pain. No worry. No shame that I’m here. It makes it easier when she kisses me and then takes off my clothes because I’ve done this before and it doesn’t really matter. As long as I’m high, nothing matters.

Because I don’t really care.

About anything anymore.

Even being invisible.

Present Day…

Chapter 29

What, oh what, have I gotten myself into?

Avery

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Mommy, Avery, coolest person ever. Happy birthday to you.” Jax and Mason wake me up with a serenade.

After they sing me the birthday song, I sit up in bed and get comfortable. Then Jax presents a tray with bacon, eggs, and toast, setting it on my lap while Mason plants a tiara on my head.

“For your special day,” Mason says excitedly. He’s cleaned up and dressed, ready to do whatever the two of them have planned for my birthday “And you get to wear it all day.”

“Yay!” I clap my hands, excited that he’s excited.

Jax giggles like a mean schoolgirl under his breath. When Mason turns around, I flip him the middle finger.

“Oh, my God, you look so adorable,” Jax says in a mocking cheerleader voice.

I lean over in the bed and shove him. “Just you wait. I’m going to encourage him to have you wear it on your birthday.”

“Good thing I can pull off the princess look,” he says with a grin as he ruffles his brown hair into place.

“Whatever.” I pick up the fork from the tray. “Thanks for breakfast, though.”

“You deserve it,” he says easily. “And there’s more planned for the day.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a surprise, so eat up and get dressed.”

As he leaves the room, I dive into my breakfast, enjoying my food and the quiet until my phone starts ringing. Then the quietness fills with noise of fires and yelling and shouting.

Even though I think I know who the call is from, I check the screen anyway. And, yep, I’m right—the unknown number. Instead of putting the phone down, I decide to dial the number back, just to see.

It rings three times then someone answers.

“Hello,” a woman answers.

“Who is this?” I ask, setting the tray aside on the nightstand.

“Avery,” she whispers. “Oh, my God, is that really you?”

“Um… yeah…” What the hell? “Tell me who this is.”

“It’s… Taylor.”

“Who?”

She sighs. “Dammit, I was hoping he told you about me. Now this is just going to be really awkward.”

I lean forward in the bed. “Is this Conner’s girlfriend? Because, if it is, I don’t want to talk to you or him.”

She pauses. “Who’s Conner?”

Confusion swirls through my mind. “Okay, you have five seconds to explain to me who you are, or I’m hanging up.”

“I’m Taylor,” she repeats with a weighted exhale. “You’re… um… half-sister... God, I had this planned out so much better. It would have been so much better if I could have finally gone through with my call and told you.”

My fingers on the phone tighten and my stomach burns. “Come again? You’re my… what?”

“My name is Taylor Hensley,” she says with uneasiness. “Your father was… well, my father.”

“What do you mean was?” I ask, struggling to stay calm. She’s my half-sister? God, I never saw this one coming. “Did he ditch you too?”

“No. He, um, died about six months ago,” she says quietly. “On his death bed, he told me about you and how sorry he was that he never really got to know you. And I… Well, I wanted to maybe get to know you for him. I’ve been super nervous over calling you, though, which is why I kept hanging up. I was worried you wouldn’t… react well.”

“React well?” Anger blazes through me like an untamed fire. “Did he tell you why he didn’t get to know me?”

Her breathing quickens. “He mentioned something about not being able to get along with your mother. That she had problems.”

“Yeah, and then he left me with her and all her problems,” I snap in outrage. How dare he talk about me to his other daughter! How dare she call me! How dare he die without seeing me again!

“I’m so sorry,” she sputters. I can hear the sound of her tears. “I never should have called you. It was so wrong of me... God...”

Click.

She hangs up, leaving me stunned. “Fuck.” This is the last thing I expected or needed. Some long-lost half-sister wanting to get to know me because her—our—father died, and it was his death wish or whatever. A father who abandoned me and never cared enough to even mention I existed until he died. Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck, just f**k.

Heaving mad, I turn down the volume on the phone and chuck it onto the floor. “I’m not going to let this ruin my birthday,” I mutter to myself, trying to breathe, to calm down. “Let it go.”

After about five minutes and some serious deep breaths, I return to my breakfast and force my thoughts to something else that will detour me from the call. Something happy. Something that makes me smile…

Tristan and that kiss. I spent half the night after I got home staring up at the stars, mapping the night sky, begging for a sign of how badly I’d screwed up. That kissing Tristan isn’t how I’m supposed to be helping him, that the kiss was wrong. But all I could think about was how safe I’d felt and how I wished I could always feel that safe. Like now, after that call.

“God, I’m getting into such a mess,” I mumble as I finish off my toast. “He doesn’t even know you have a kid for Christ’s sake. And he would probably bail out if he knew. Plus, you’re making wishes again, Avery. Not smart at all.”

I wolf down the rest of my breakfast then take a shower. I apply a little bit of makeup and put on the one dress I own—a short, flowery one with thin straps—because it’s my birthday and an excuse to look nice once a year. I leave my hair down in waves, shutting my eyes for a moment to brush my fingers through the strands, savoring the long length. Then I put the tiara back on my head and leave the bedroom with the empty plate and tray.

When I enter the kitchen, Mason and Jax are playing a board game at the table, dice, pieces, and cards in front of them. For an instant, I consider mentioning the phone call to Jax but decide against it, not wanting to burden him with my life problems. And, honestly, I don’t really feel like talking about it yet. Besides, Jax doesn’t know who his father is, so the last thing he needs is for me to rub in his face that I do, even if mine’s dead.

Oh, my God, he’s dead.

“You look so pretty, Mama,” Mason says as he turns around in his chair.

I plaster a smile on for him. “Thanks, baby.” I kiss his cheek then put the dishes in the sink and sit down in a chair. “So, is this my big birthday present? Do we get to sit around all day and play board games?”

Jax and Mason exchange a secret look, and then they both shake their heads. “Nope, this isn’t it,” Jax says, scooting back from the table and standing up. He grabs a plaid shirt hanging on the back of the chair and slips it over his red T-shirt. “You can’t have your present until after the day is over.”

I fake a frown. “So what are we doing all day?”

Mason claps his hands as he springs from his chair and bounces up and down. “It’s cake time!”