I felt like I was in a tunnel. I heard the music. The laughter. I could see everything, but I focused on the door. I had to go back and get Hazel. She was drunk and couldn’t drive. I had no idea that bomb was going to get dropped on me, though.

The boyfriend that hurt her when she was younger was the same guy that was sleeping with my girlfriend. The same guy that called himself my best friend. The same guy who put Ava into such a mental state that she felt her only way out was to jump to her death.

Lance was Night.

“Hey, brother,” a hand grabbed my shoulder.

I turned and threw the palm of my hand.

I hit Tate in the chest and shoved him back.

“Jesus,” Tate yelled.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” I said. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Tate asked.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Prick said, quickly getting between us. Prick looked at me. “You okay?”

“No. I gotta get out of here.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. I’m fine. I have to go.”

“What happened? Where’s Hazel?”

I looked back.

I gritted my teeth.

“Just do me a favor,” I said to Prick.

“Anything, man.”

“Come with me,” I said. “Open the back door and let us sneak out.”

“Why?”

I looked at Prick. “Do this for me. She’s really drunk. And she’s emotional.”

“Fuck,” Prick said.

I had to go back and get Hazel.

When I opened the door to my room, she was on the floor, crying, curled up in a ball.

I hurried in to get her. I dropped to my knees and grabbed her arms. “Hazel, come on. We have to go.”

“You walked away,” she cried.

“I had to,” I said. “For a second. Do you realize…”

Hazel looked at me. Her green eyes laced with tears. “I realize…he hurt me, Maddox. Just like he hurt Ava. That could have been me. But I stood up for myself.”

“Okay,” I said. “I know you did. You stood up for yourself. Now I need you to stand up for me. And leave this place. I’m taking you home. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can’t sleep,” Hazel said. “He was supposed to be my boyfriend, but he was with someone else—your girlfriend! Is that why we’re connected, Maddox? Somehow, we both knew, didn’t we? So we could find each other and the truth?”

“Sugar, you’re drunk. I shouldn’t have walked away. I’m sorry. I’m in shock right now. And you’re drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk. I can think clear. I can see clear.”

I put my hands to her face again. I was hurt. I was twisted. I was angry. “Hazel. Please.”

Finally, she started to stand up. I got her to her feet and put an arm around her. I walked her out of the room and to the backdoor of the building where Prick stood, waiting.

“Are you sure you can drive?” he asked me.

“I would never put myself or Hazel or anyone in that position,” I said. “Tell Tate I’m sorry, but I have to get out of here.”

Prick patted my back. “Take care of her, man. Okay? It’s all good.”

“My camera,” Hazel said. “I need my camera. I can’t lose my camera.”

“I’ll get it,” Prick said. “I’ll keep it safe.”

I saw the look on Prick’s face when he saw Hazel. Then he looked at me.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered. “I promise.”

I was talking to Hazel, myself, and Prick.

Prick shut the door.

I grabbed Hazel.

The next few minutes were fuzzy, but we somehow made it to my truck. I got her inside, where she leaned against the passenger window and cried. I drove away before anyone could chase after me and question me.

Ten minutes into the drive, the crying quieted down. I looked over at Hazel and saw that she had fallen asleep. Hair in her face, huddled up in a position of fear, drunk and asleep. Shit. It was probably better that she was drunk for this.

I stared at the road, wondering how. How did I not figure this out sooner? How could one person like Night destroy so many lives at once? Yet at the same time, if it weren’t for him, the connection between me and Hazel wouldn’t have been as strong.

No matter what it was a fucking disaster.

All those times Night had been bragging to me about keeping women in line…he was abusing not only Ava but also Hazel. And I knew nothing about either. I was wrapped up in Ava. I didn’t know who Hazel was. Meanwhile, Night had everything he had wanted. Women to sleep with. Women to control. And I was too fucking dumb to make the connections and stop him. It was all too late. Ava wrote her goodbye letter to the world and jumped. And as for Hazel…

I looked over at her.

Well, I guess in some sick way, she got lucky. Night was drunk when I went up to the ridge. He was the person I saw take off on the dirt bike. So, he must have taken off, gotten into his car, and driven away. He was about twenty minutes away when he lost control of his car and smashed it into a tree. Hit the tree at just the right spot, too…or the wrong spot, depending on how you looked at it. It was the right speed and the right angle that it killed him instantly. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, big shock there. Because he was Night and because he was drunk and because of his reputation, the case was pretty open and shut. Drunk. Speeding. Hitting a tree. Dead.

I never got a chance to get him face to face after finding out what he had been doing to Ava. I never got a chance to yell at him. To fucking knock his teeth out. To drag him to the top of that ridge and toss him over.

And the sinking feeling got even worse as I glanced at Hazel again.

She was still sleeping.

But her secret was out there.

When I got back to the apartment, I parked the truck and walked around to the passenger side. I slowly opened the door and let Hazel fall into my arms. She groaned and stirred. She let out a noise that made me think she was going to throw up, so I stopped and held her in my arms for a few seconds just to see what would happen.

Lucky for us both, nothing happened.

I scooped her up into my arms and kicked the door of the truck shut.

I carried her into my apartment and walked her to the bedroom. I gently put her on the edge of the bed and got a glass of water, some ibuprofen, and the trashcan from the bathroom, plus a towel to go under that.

Never in my life did I think I’d be carrying a drunk woman around like this.

But that’s what love could do to a man. And goddammit, I loved Hazel.

I crouched down at the side of the bed and ran my fingers through her hair. I stroked her cheek.

I was so angry. I was as angry as I could ever remember. The images flashing in my mind of the emergency people bringing Ava from the edge of the river. Never seeing her face again. Never getting a chance to go to her funeral and say goodbye. The police harassing me for months. The endless questioning. Being followed by reporters. It was hell for me. Living each day like that.

Standing up, I walked to my dresser and opened the top right drawer. I dug through and found the letter Ava wrote. I touched the envelope and felt my heart sick. I didn’t need to read the letter ever again. Those words were forever tattooed on my mind and my heart. I looked into the mirror at myself.

When everything happened with Ava, I wasn’t a man. I was a boy trying to be a man. My age meant shit. Old enough to buy smokes and get tattoos but not old enough to buy a drink. That fucked-up age in life when things didn’t make sense. When most people were protected by the life of a campus and college and parties and experiences, I was living through the streets, the woods, the trails, on the ridge, drinking, fighting, wondering what I was going to do next.

I should have never kept the letter from Ava’s parents.

I put the letter on the dresser and shut my eyes.

I miss you, Ava. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t see what was happening to you. I was too busy looking into your eyes and trying to find your heart when I should have been looking on the outside. I’ll never blame you for jumping, and I’ll never be mad at you. I’m just so sorry it happened the way it did.

My hand curled around the letter, and I hurried from the bedroom.

The words on the letter started to ring through my mind.

Maddox - and everyone else,

I don’t want to blame you for this, I really don’t. I don’t want to send my pain to the ones who get to keep living. I want to take all this pain with me. I want to do this the right way. That’s why I’m doing this. This isn’t for attention. This isn’t for a message. I can see beyond that. I can see what the reality is for me. And this…this is right. This is making me whole. I know it’s going to break some of you but this is making me whole! You need to know that. I get to take all of this pain with me and it will never come back again.

The truth is that-

I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.

I let Ava’s words fade away, and I started to write my own words.

I made a promise to your daughter when I was too young to make promises. But I did it anyway. And that promise was to love her. To care for her. To protect her. I did what I thought I could but I couldn’t protect her. I failed her and I failed you. I failed you again after her death by not giving you this letter. The truth is that night she passed away she left this letter. She dropped it to the ground and then whispered she was sorry and she opened her arms and she was free. I’m sorry to paint that image for you, especially all these years later, but I’ll take your anger if you need to give it. I took away closure from you and for that I apologize. My hopes then were that you would somehow find comfort and move on. This letter contains the truth of Ava. That she felt she had no choice but to do what she did. I should have known and I should have been there to save her. But I wasn’t. When I showed up she was already on the edge. I spent the entire night there wanting to find her, save her, calling for her, crying for her, willing to sell my soul to hear her voice one last time.

I ask you one thing and that’s to never stop loving Ava and her memory.

I folded up the note. Then I put Ava’s letter into mine.

I would send it to her mother and stepfather.

I then sat there alone. Staring across my apartment. I had lived in some world of comfort. Tattooing people. Enjoying the world of St. Skin. Just living in my own bubble. Until the flash of a camera lens popped that fucking bubble.

Hazel with the green eyes.

I had no idea how long I was going to sit at the table. Maybe until morning. Maybe not.

My thoughts were cut short when I heard Hazel cry out my name.

* * *

I was at her side in an instant, stroking the hair out of her face again.

“Sugar, if you need to get sick, it’s okay,” I whispered.

Her green eyes locked to mine. “I’m sorry, Maddox.”

“Sorry?”

“I let it happen. I let him do that to me. I let him feel empowered so that he could do it to her. And she died because of him. She didn’t commit suicide, Maddox. She was murdered…”

I swallowed hard.

I touched Hazel’s face.

Then I kissed her.

She began to cry.

I scooped her up again and held her, pulling her from the bed to the floor. I cradled her in my arms.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable.

I began to cry too.