The couch at Danny’s fraternity holds the comfort of granite and smells like piss and vomit. I’m pretty sure it has an extensive sexual history and more than likely has transmitted a few exciting diseases all on its own. It’s disgusting as ass crack—not that I’m complaining. The frat boys were nice enough to let me store my crap in their attic, so, at least for now, the Hefty bags that hold what’s left of my brother and me are warm and dry. I’ve used their laundry room, their showers, and raided their fridge a time too many, so any minute now I expect to get the big heave ho.

The band and I played at the Black Bear twice this week, and both times Annie has showed up with her trusty camera. She sits at the same table with her back against the wall, and I’ve grown accustomed to turning toward her when I pour my soul out in song. Turning toward Annie is like turning toward the light. It’s natural. Every inclination in me is to turn my being toward her. She’s pulling something out of me, demons, angels. They’re all in there fighting for dominance over my weary soul, and only Annie can get me where I need to be. Funny, I’ve never gifted a girl that much power before but then again it isn’t really a gift, she just had it. She has me.

My phone rings pulling me out of my momentary trance, and I pluck it out. It’s Wyatt. Him I’ve been avoiding. Not sure why. Hell, I know why. He’s going to ask how I’m doing, and I’ve never been a good liar. I’ve never been good at talking through my feelings or any other shit like that, so I let it go to voicemail. I’ll try to deal with him this weekend.

I shoot a text to Olivia and tell her I’ll be over in an hour. She texts right back.

I’m in town. Meet me at the donut shop on Central. I want a dozen in my stomach yesterday. I’m having a serious craving for something glazed. You have anything you want me to dip in sugar and lick?

I’d laugh if it I knew she weren’t serious. Just a dozen? Pace yourself. See you in a few.

I take a quick shower before examining my arm and back in the fogged mirror. The day we put Benji in the ground is the same day I went over to Sam at Tenacious Tats and had him do me up. I wanted an exact replica of what my brother had—skull and cross bones, ivy dotted with roses running down my body. It was the only way I could think to remember him outside of looking at my own reflection. I wanted more than his face. I wanted a piece of him, something tangible.

It’s cold out, bitter, icy to the bone kind of weather that threatens to turn your limbs into icicles before snapping them in half. I never was good at dressing for the weather with all those layers and jackets. I’d feel like a scarecrow that’s just been stuffed when my mother shoved Ben and me out the door. God, I miss her. I can trace every shit thing that’s happened in my life back to the day they put her in that casket.

Olivia is already seated inside when I arrive. Her fingers dip happily into a pink box, and, judging by the size, she went for more than a dozen. She’s dressed in a black and white polka dot coat with a giant red bow pressed into her dark cherry died hair. For as long as I’ve known her, Olivia has been perfecting that rockabilly look—winged eyeliner, bright red lips, the victory roll in her hair when she can nail it.

“Hey—you look beautiful,” I say as she stands to greet me. Olivia is pretty, not stunning like Annie, but she can make just about anyone look twice despite her growing belly. “Look at you. God, it’s been two weeks, and you’re out like a torpedo.”

“First one—they say you show later. I’m just glad it’s still in there for the ride, you know what I mean?” She growls out the words like maybe she’s kidding. We’ve been down this road before, so I don’t say anything. Olivia has had her fair share of scares. She pulls me into a tight embrace. After the funeral, Olivia and I clung to one another for far too long, and I was worried we might fall back into old habits. It would have been easy, me with Olivia again, but, thankfully, Annie showed up, and the fleeting thought left me. I was never into Olivia like I should have been. We were using one another, trying to see who could hurt each other the most, and, now, there’s a baby who will be here by Christmas. The list of tragedies in our story seems never ending.

I take a seat across from her. “So what’s the news? Baby doing good?”

“Too good.” She moves a little slower adjusting herself with a look of general discomfort. “Everything’s on track. I’m over halfway through, and it still feels like I’ve been pregnant for two years. And before you ask, no I haven’t smoked one damn cigarette.” She shoves a donut into her face as retribution.

“Good. I don’t want those cancer sticks near you or your baby.”

Her eyes narrow in on mine as she slows her chewing. She washes down her bite with the opened carton of milk in front of her.

“This is your kid, buddy.” Olivia doesn’t blink. This is poker. Me against Olivia, and we both know the hands we’ve been dealt. “That’s the deal, remember?”

A dull laugh huffs through me. “That’s the deal.” I promised to raise this child on my own, and I intend to. Olivia isn’t exactly gunning for mother of the year even in this early stage of the game. “When the time comes, I’m there for the both of you.” I pull out a wad of bills from my pocket—what would have been my rent. “Just like I’m here for the two of you now.”

“If our track record persists, given enough time, you’ll end up breaking both our hearts.” She flicks a finger in the air. “We both know you’re the heart breaking type.” Her lips invert, and for the first time since the funeral, I see a modicum of pain in her eyes. “You ever think about you and me?”

“Yeah, I have.” I reach over and take up her hands in mine. “Look—um, there isn’t going to be a you and me.” I try to dish the words out as tenderly as possible. Olivia has been known for her mood swings, but her hormones have transformed her into a nuclear missile ready and willing to detonate on command. It happens regularly, but I’m never ready for it.

“What do you mean, sweet pea?” She spits the words out laced with venom. There’s a look of vengeance brewing in her eyes. “I need you, babe. You loved me once, you can do it again.” She leaves out the part about loving me, and a tiny smile cinches up my cheek. That’s Olivia all over.

Despite her cold, black heart, I was hoping she might find it in her to love this baby. Every child needs a mother, and, deep down, I was hoping Olivia could rise to the occasion. As much as she’s professed this child as a curse, I’m pretty sure once it arrives and she sees it for the angel it is, the curse of pain in her life will be broken.

“Olivia, look at me.” Her eyes sail from one corner of the room to the other as they swell with tears. “I’m not the one for you. I can never be who you want me to be. I wouldn’t even want to try.”

She runs her fingers over my left arm. “That’s not what your body says.”

Olivia was with me after the funeral when I got my body mapped out to match my brother’s. She held my hand for five hours straight as I gritted through the pain, and I very much intend on returning the favor when she goes into labor.

“My body is a tribute to Benji. You and me together would be a lie.”

“You made promises, Blake.”

“And I intend to keep them.”

Olivia sets her gaze dead ahead as tears slide down her face. “I want your name on all the legal documents once the baby is born.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If you intend to keep your word, you’ll step up in the exact way you said you would. I don’t see why you shouldn’t do that.” Her gaze drifts to mine with the dare.

“All right. I’ll do it. You realize that you’ll be surrendering that child to me legally.” Not that I object. In fact, in a strange way, I feel a sense of comfort. In the back of my mind, I was half afraid she’d pick up one day and disappear with a piece of my beating heart.

“Oh, honey”—she gets up and dusts the crumbs off her lap—“consider yourself lucky that I’m not taking you down much more colorful legal avenues.” She scoops up her pink box and flicks the empty carton of milk with her finger. “Who knows? You might get more than you ever dreamed of in your Christmas stocking this year.” She stalks off in her shockingly high heels, her pantyhose with the sharp black line up the back.

Holy crap. She’s batshit. I dig my palm into my eye a moment. I can really pick ‘em. I get up and take a breath before heading back out into the cold, bleak world. Annie is an improvement in my taste in women by miles.

Annie—just the thought of her puts that goofy grin right back on my face. I wonder what she would think of Olivia. It’s probably best the two don’t mix. Olivia would eat Annie for breakfast, quite literally at this point. But if I want Annie in my life, she’ll have to know eventually. I suppose the truth is always inevitable in the end. Unfortunately, for me, this truth ties me to Olivia for the rest of my days.

Sometimes the truth is a bitch in red heels.

---

Three days go by without seeing Annie. It’s painful, and the world slowly reverts to its tortured state without her. As it stands we’re only seeing one another after the shows, and, since the band performs just a couple of nights a week, that limits it to less time than my body demands. No performance at the Black Bear equals no Annie, so I head over to campus and straight for the Student Union. One of the guys from the frat I’ve inadvertently taken residence with is working behind the desk. He’s got his funhouse glasses on, the ones that look as if they’re pixilated. His hair is dyed black with a blue tint right along with his eyebrows.

“What’s up?” I nod trying to seem inconspicuous. “A friend of mine left her lens cap behind, and I sort of need to get it to her. I don’t have her number. You mind telling me her schedule? I think she mentioned a photography class.” It’s true, Annie left her lens cap behind at the bar last Tuesday, and I know for a fact she’s losing her mind trying to find it. If it were anyone else, I would have simply given it to the bartender—one of her brothers. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Annie, the girl who occupies my mind 24/7 and brought a well-needed balm to my heart these past few weeks. It doesn’t change the fact that losing Benji still hurts like shit, but she sure numbs the sting.

“Lens cap, huh?” He takes it from me a second. “I know that one. It’s a pricey camera.” He starts hacking away at the keyboard. “What’s her name? I’ll tell you where to find her.”

“Annie Edwards,” it rolls off my tongue, and I want to laugh or smile like a fucking loon for the hundredth time today. Annie is like a drug I haven’t taken a hit off of for a good long while, hell, ever. I slap my hand to the back of my neck and wait as he tracks her down. My body heats up because I can feel time closing in the gap between our last meeting and the next.

“Looks like she’s just wrapping up with Digital Studios. If you miss her there you can catch her at Prescott Hall. That’s her dorm.” He frowns. “You’re not a stalker or anything are you?”

“Nope, but if I were, you’d be fired.” I mock shoot him as I head out the door. “Where’s that Digital Design class at?”

“Digital Studios. Two buildings to your left—Doris Hall first floor, room B14.”

“B14, got it.” I fly outside, hell, float at the prospect of seeing her again, sans her big bros watching over us with their bloated frames, their menacing growls. Then there’s Baya and Izzy hovering like a pair of old aunts. A wry smile floats to my lips. I like that Annie is well looked after, cared for. God knows if anyone deserves to be treated that way it’s her. I make a beeline for her classroom just as a stream of bodies pour out the door. A pair of familiar sorority girls giggle at one another and pause once they spot me. I’ve seen them at the bar, front row, lots of cleavage, lots of leg—hot pink thongs if I’m not mistaken—always ready and willing for a one-night stand.

“Hey, you’re that guy from 12 Deadly Sins!” The tall one with an elongated neck and chunky mascara squeals. “You think I can get you to sign something for me?”

“Sure.” I glance past her in search of Annie. I’d hate to miss her because I needed to get my ego stroked. The truth is I don’t mind doing stuff like this. One day I’m going to hang up the mike, and all these ego-stroking moments will come to an end. “I don’t have a pen.”

She pulls one out of her bag like a rabbit out of a hat and proceeds to unbutton her blouse.

“Right here, big boy.” She dips her finger into her cushioned flesh.

I glance past her, still no sign of Annie. What the hell. I’ll make it quick. It’s not the first tit I’ve scrawled my name over. Signed a few more interesting places, too.

A flash goes off in the distance.

I glance over as I’m finishing up, and Annie waves with the camera in her hand.

“Sorry,” I whisper, and she brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

“I’m Johanna Woodley.” The blonde shoves her hand in my face.

“And I’m Courtney Sage.” The shorter one thrusts her arm at me, and, I happily sign the appendage because, thankful, it’s rather G-rated in nature.

“Nice to meet you both.” I try to make my way to Annie and the tall one, Johanna, blocks my path. “There’s a get together tonight at Regency House if you want to hang out.”

Regency. Isn’t that the Frat I’m staying at?

“Thanks for the offer, but I might have plans.” I smile at Annie as I make my way past them. “There’s a very big problem—a tragedy.”

“What?” She whispers it low, and I hear just the hint of her sweet voice and savor it. I love it. I’ll take any sound she wants to give me.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Smooth, Romeo.” The preppy I met in the bar a few weeks back pops up behind her.

I don’t bother answering him since he didn’t have the balls to say it in front of Annie.

She motions for me to hand her my phone, and I happily comply.

“So, like, you’re seeing her, huh?” He asks from over her shoulder. Annie must have caught a whiff of him because she turns and gives him a look before signing something in his direction.

He rolls his eyes and signs back before taking off.

“See you later, sweetheart!” I call after him.

The hall clears, and it’s just Annie and me, the way I like it.

She hands my phone back with the message, Now you have my number. Tragedy averted.

“Thank you.” I pluck the lens cap out of my pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Her mouth rounds into a perfect O before she lunges at me with a quick hug.

“Whoa,” I say with my hands still pleasantly touching her waist. I pull back so she can see my lips. “I might need to steal that again.”

Her lashes flutter, and I die a little. Her cheeks deepen with color. Annie is a master tease whether or not she’s aware of it.

“Um,” she mouths as she slips my hands off her hips. She pulls my phone back out of my pocket and starts typing. I like this in charge, touchy feely version of her. Maybe all she needed was a little space between her and her brothers—some freaking breathing room.

I saw that Johanna mentioned Regency House. Are you going tonight? She looks up expectantly.

“Are you?” I don’t tell her that it’s technically where I’ll end up no matter where the day takes me.

She nods, pausing to gaze at me, and my insides melt like a schoolgirl’s. Annie has breathtaking sky blue eyes. Aquamarine, that’s the exact shade. My mother used to have a ring with an aquamarine in it. And if I knew my father hadn’t hawked it, I would have gifted it to her. Although I think we’re miles from the ring-bearing phase of our relationship. Relationship. That goofy grin curves back up my lips. I haven’t fallen this hard since—ever.

Her chest is just a hair from mine, and I can feel the warmth of her body. That easy sweet perfume of hers coils itself around me, and I take in a deep lungful, already as high off Annie as I can get.

Her lips twitch. That perfect mouth of hers has me mesmerized. I’ve never seen such defined lips. Annie is a natural beauty, not a hint of chunky mascara or a painted-on smile. She’s the real deal. A far cry from any of the girls I’m used to. A far cry from Olivia, that’s for sure.

That mouth. I lean in an inch and she does the same. Holy shit, this is happening. We’re going to kiss in the halls like a pair of high school teenagers, and I’ll take it. I’ll take anything Annie wants to give me, anywhere anytime.

I close my eyes and lean in hard, hitting air only to find she’s backed away a good foot.

Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she looks up playfully.

“I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

She takes my phone one last time.

You will.

---

Regency House on any normal night is a pigsty. For whatever reason every frat boy in the house turned into a Merry Maid, and you would never know that just last night a drunk coed took a piss in the corner. By evening the entire frat house is spotless, unrecognizable. It looks staged, a simple sofa, a bare table. Everything in the house looks like a theater prop. By ten the party is going strong, and I keep Danny and the guys from the band company at the beer pong table. No use in getting shitfaced when I’d rather spend time with Annie. Since Ben died, I haven’t really drowned in my sorrows like I used to. Ironic since before he passed away I thought I had problems, and, now that he’s gone, his death is the only real problem that matters. It sucks that there’s no solution, just a lifetime of separation. I would have rather he moved out of state, went to China, went to prison—at least that way I could have visited him—brought him a cake with a knife in it. I loved him even if he didn’t believe it was true half the time. Wyatt blinks through my mind. I do have one living brother. Maybe I should treat him with a little more respect.

Danny lets out a riotous whoop as one of the girls chugs down a pint. Danny’s hair is dyed blood red and spiked out in all directions as he sports the chains and leather tonight. I’ve opted for a flannel and blue jeans. I don’t think a person in this room would peg us for being in the same band. But I’ve never been showy like the rest of the guys. The way they express themselves day in and day out, they’ve got a budding career in Vegas if this whole band thing doesn’t pan out. For me, I’ll probably close out my business degree and dive into marketing—anything to get away from the shop. Another Harley rolled in this afternoon. I almost puked when I saw the front end bent in. Same thing that happened to Benji happened to that poor fool, but he was lucky enough to survive.

I spot Gunner and Eddie, the bass player and guitarist we hired last winter, and head on over.

“What’s up?” I need something to get my mind off Ben, and there isn’t a sign of Annie yet.

“Just shooting the shit.” Gunner nods at a group of sorority girls. I recognize the girls from earlier today and hold back a groan. They were a little too friendly without booze. Who knows what parts they’ll be willing to thrust my way after a few beers. “Which one you taking home?”

“None of the above,” I say. “I’ll leave that to you two.” Gunner and Eddie are brothers— I won’t lie, it hurts a little to be around them. They look like twins even though they’re a year apart just like Ben and I were. “See those two?” I point over at the girls from earlier just as the tall one, Johanna, turns around and flashes her tits at me. Something glistens on the left one. Nipple ring? That might have interested me last week, but, thankfully, I’ve moved on. She waves and bops on over before I can stop this runaway train. Crap. Here we go.

“Look who showed up!” She throws her arms around me, and, before I know it, she’s climbing me like a beanpole.

“Whoa.” I glance to the door because I know what’s coming next.

Sure enough Annie walks in and holy, holy… Annie looks fierce in her fitted jeans, tan cowboy boots that beg for a horse to ride, and a tight sweater that annihilates me in the very best way. She looks over with a laugh caught in her throat, and I give a stupid wave. That ridiculous grin comes to my face. I can’t help but lose myself in her for a moment.

A hard bite sinks over my ear, and I let out a groan. Shit. I forgot all about the blonde dangling from my body like a Christmas ornament.

“Down girl.” I carefully plant her in front of Gunner. “You’re welcome.” I turn to Eddie, “Don’t worry, buddy. She’s got a friend.”

I thread through the crowd, but Annie isn’t anywhere to be seen. Shit. She probably took off. I head for the door and spot her in the corner with a blonde by her side and two guys I recognize from parties past chatting it up with them. I hold back a smile. It looks like they can use another person in their circle. Annie spots me and steps toward the guy to her left. He’s tall and GQ with a freaking suit on. A suit. Who the hell wears a suit to a frat house? I get a little closer, and Annie glances my way before putting her hand on his shoulder.

I pause a moment trying to figure this out. It’s not that Tristan douche. In fact, I’ve never seen her with this guy before. A thought occurs to me. Is she trying to make me jealous? I’d be amused if I wasn’t annoyed or—for the lack of a better word—jealous. Wait, this doesn’t have to do with pole climbing Jo-the-ho back there does it? Holy heck. A smile digs into the side of my cheek. Maybe I’m not the only jealous one around here. The music spikes up ten octaves, and the smile glides off my face because Annie can’t hear it. No music, no favorite song, she hasn’t heard a note of what comes from my mouth, and yet she’s always faithful with a smile on her face each time we’re at the Black Bear.

“What’s going on?” I dig my gaze into hers and step in front of the preppy who’s trying to rope her in with his smooth tie, his smooth talk.

“Dude”—he pulls me back by the shoulder a little too rough for my liking—“we’re having a conversation.”

“She’s with me.” I don’t take my eyes off Annie. I can’t. Her lips are a luscious juicy red tonight, and I’m dying to take a bite. She’s beautiful with her eyes glowing in this dim light, her frosted eye shadow sparkles just enough to give her that angel effect. But Annie doesn’t need it. Annie is an angel, my injured soul can testify to that.

“What part of we’re having a conversation don’t you understand?” The dude barks in my ear, and my jaw clenches because I know his type. He’s not able to leave well enough alone until things get physical.

I turn to get a better look at the guy I’m about to assault—clean cut, hair parted neatly down the side, glasses. I’ll try not to bend the frame.

“See those chicks over there?” I nod to where Gunner and Eddie are about to close a deal. “They’re aching for some action. You want to get lucky? I’d hurry if I were you.” I turn my full attention to Annie. That beaming smile of hers goes off, and it makes me wonder what the hell we’re still doing in a room full of people.

My shoulder gets yanked from behind as the idiot shoves me into the wall. A slight gasp emits from the immediate crowd around us. He’s teasing out my anger like a rock against flint.

“I’m glad you started it.” I draw back my arm. “Because I’d love to finish it.” My fist connects with his jaw, and his glasses go flying. Sorry sport. He lands on top of me and offers a knee to the balls.

Holy shit! Who does that? I roll over, dying in pain, and, before I know it, the entire frat house has turned into a brawling match.

Ah, fuck. I get on all fours trying to get the hell up. I try to recompose myself enough to find Annie but can’t see straight for the life of me. The dull ache sears right through to my belly, and I fight the urge to puke. A surge rises through me. I kick the legs out from beneath him before we go at it again.

Idiots—both him and me.

After the melee dies down, Barkley, the house “sitter” AKA house brother, kicks everyone the hell out. The place is trashed. There’s a questionable pool of liquid in the middle of the room leading right up over the sofa where I lay my head at night. And something tells me that good time is over.

I pull my phone out and shoot a text to Annie right from where I’m lying on the floor. Sorry about that.

Don’t apologize. Are you ok???

I’m fine. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

She texts right back. My roommate and I went home.

I’m glad. You free tomorrow afternoon? 3:30?

Sure! I imagine the excitement on her face, and my heart thumps at the idea of making her happy—making anyone happy.

Great. I’ll pick you up at Prescott.

And how do you know where I live?

A smile comes and goes. I can practically see her flirting.

I’m a proficient stalker. Goodnight, Annie.

Goodnight, Blake.

Perfect. I’ll pick her up right after work. I know just the place to take her—that is if the weather behaves.

“Daniels!” A swift kick to my thigh rouses my attention as I get up off the floor. Barkley helps me up the rest of the way. “Sorry about your balls, dude.” He shakes his head. “But you gotta go. It’s university policy, no squatters allowed. I would have let you stay if you didn’t start shit.”

I’d let him know I didn’t technically start shit, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a fight I’m going to win, so I raise my hands in surrender and give.

“I’ll be gone come morning.”

“No can do. I need you gone right now.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” It’s dropping down to the thirties tonight. I hate sleeping in the truck. I’ve done it a time or two, and I’m not in the mood to assume the neck cricking position.

“Not my problem.” He heads for the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding some girl to share a bed with. Alpha Chi is fucking generous this time of year.”

“Alpha Chi.” I groan as I think of hauling all my crap down from the attic. I don’t want to share a bed with anyone from Alpha Chi tonight or any other night. Annie blinks through my mind, those ruby lips, that wild hair, those lucent eyes that I wish I could stare into all night long. I think I know who I want to share a bed with, and I’m pretty sure she deserves someone way better than me. Maybe that preppy. I’m betting he’s not a homeless dropout with a kid on the way.

I collect my things and start the long drive over to Jepson.

The light is on in Wyatt’s ranch house. Those cowboy boots Annie wore tonight come to mind and hit me like another kick in the balls. Wyatt has more than a few horses I can teach her to ride.

I head up the porch and give a brisk knock to the door. It takes a good five minutes for it to swing open. Wyatt appears in nothing but his sweats. A girl stands behind him with his dress shirt wrapped around her body like a robe.

Great.

“What’s going on?” He squints past me into the night. He’s my spitting image minus the rough edge and tats—same dark hair, same God-breathed eyes our mother used to say.

“You said you wanted to talk.” I plunk my duffle bag onto the porch. “Here I am.”