The sweet aroma of my devil’s food cake batter wafted up my nose. With one finger, I swiped the frosting at the edge of the bowl and brought it to my lips. “Mmm-mmm good,” I said, throwing a smile at Josh.

It had been a few days since the awful meeting with his grandfather, and besides a few texts back and forth, I still hadn’t spoken to Hawke. I had sent the last text, and he hadn’t responded. That was the thing with wanting more. It never stopped. I’d wanted more than a hook-up-when-in-town relationship, and now that I had it, I wanted more of Hawke, too—more texts, more calls and communication, and more of his time.

I was starting to seriously wonder why I was putting myself through all this torture. Then, I’d backtrack and realize that this was his lifestyle, busy with interviews and promo. I wanted this, so I needed to understand and make this work.

“Yo, yo, yo, Earth to Princess.” Josh waved his arms in front of me, pulling me from my daze.

I smiled and brushed some flour from Josh’s cheek. I was teaching Josh how to bake because, the two times he’d brought over brownies for me to try, I’d nearly choked on one of them, and the other had the consistency of oatmeal.

He needed some major help in the kitchen. Our mission tonight was to bake a successful chocolate cake.

Before I dropped my hand from his cheek, he reached for it, pulled it down between us, and gave it a little tug. “Give me some sugar, woman! Powdered sugar.”

His smile was like sprinkles on top of a cupcake and, a cherry on top of a hot fudge sundae. It was adorably cute and signature to Josh.

It was hard to swallow that Josh’s grandfather didn’t adore his grandson. It was hard not to be drawn to him because of his cheerful self and big heart.

“It’s in the overhead cabinet.” Sidestepping him, I reached behind him and pulled it out. My baking ingredients were all stored in white ceramic containers, each with the ingredient written in white chalk on a black label. “It says, Powdered Sugar.” I pointed to the sign and smirked.

He pinched my side as he passed me. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Brilliant,” I sassed.

It was our scheduled movie night, and this time, Josh had chosen the movie, but first I’d decided we’d bake a cake. Also, I knew it would distract me from my impatience with Hawke.

“How do I work this contraption anyway?” He took out my old KitchenAid that I had bought from a pawn shop.

The mixer was rusty and ridiculously old. It hadn’t worked in years, but I kept it because it was my very first mixer. Call me Sentimental Sam because I kept everything.

“That old thing doesn’t work. There’s a hand mixer in the bottom cabinet.”

He pulled at the handle of the KitchenAid, and it tilted.

“See?” I laughed. “It’s a piece of crap. Use the hand mixer.”

He angled his head, examining said piece of crap. The handle was brown, as it was an older style. “Why don’t you have a better one?”

“Because they’re like five hundred dollars.” I moved past him and bent down to reach in the cabinet for the mixer. “Here.”

“You’re a pastry chef.” He frowned. “You need a real mixer.”

“When I make real money, I’ll buy a real mixer.” I pointed to his unmixed ingredients. “Get going. I need frosting.” I slapped my hand against the counter to prove a point. “Chop-chop.”

Josh saluted and then plugged in the hand mixer to stir the blend of powdered sugar with a few drops of milk. The white of the icing glistened from the light above me. With my wooden spoon, I was mixing the cake batter in my glass bowl when my phone buzzed on the counter.

When Josh glanced at the picture of Hawke and me on the screen, his grin slowly dimmed. I had taken the picture after a concert as proof because I swore, we’d never see each other again. Never in a million years had I imagined that we would be an official couple—me as his girlfriend.

I picked up the phone, placing the receiver by my ear.

“Sunshine…” Hawke’s voice shocked me, sounding shaky and sad.

I stepped away from the kitchen, trying not to panic at his downturned tone.

“What’s the matter?” I turned to Josh, raised a finger, and walked straight into my room, shutting the door behind me.

Then, I heard it—soft sobs from my normally cheerful, self-confident boyfriend.

My hand pressed to my abdomen, my butt dropping to the edge of my bed. “Hawke, tell me what’s wrong.” I gripped the comforter, bracing for whatever he was about to tell me. I was certain he wouldn’t cry for nothing.

“I fucked up, baby.”

My stomach dropped at his words. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah.”

Flickers of cocaine and heroin and packets of other drugs spread across the table filtered through my mind as dread filled my veins. But I shook it off. He’d told me he wasn’t into that.

“What happened?” I asked, holding my breath.

“She called me.”

“Who?”

“My mom.” A jagged breath escaped him. “I don’t even know how she got my number. I don’t talk to anyone she talks to.”

“What did she want?” My gaze dropped down to my cream carpet, noticing the speckles of gray and brown. I had to focus on anything to keep me steady because just hearing him sound so broken had my chest slicing open, my insides slowly tearing apart.

“It’s not even about the money. Sunshine, she wants to see me.” His voice cracked with emotion. “She told me she’s sick, and she was crying on the phone. She…she has cancer,” he choked out. “She’s dying.”

I closed my eyes and let out a low breath.

Cancer? Could she possibly be lying about something this serious?

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” I could only imagine the psychological number she’d done on him while he was growing up, and now, the one woman he’d cut out of his life wanted back in. I wanted to jump through the phone and give him a consoling hug—of course, after transporting myself to his mother’s house and giving her a good beatdown.

“Hell if I know,” he said bitterly.

My fingers tightened against the edge of the bed.

Maybe his mother was sick. Maybe she wasn’t messing with him this time. Death and sickness made people want to reconcile with their past. I understood that.

“What am I going to do, Sunshine?” he begged. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Where are you?”

Did it matter where he was? Hawke was in the worst place right now, and all I knew was that I had to be there for him.

“I want to see you,” I added.

He ignored my statement but continued to mumble under his breath, “I can’t take this shit. I don’t know if she’s playing or scheming for another big payout, or if she’s telling the truth.”

“Hawke, can you come get me?”

That seemed to break him from his thoughts.

He sucked in a breath, his voice even and calm now. “What about work?”

“It’s okay.” I was off for the next few days, and I did have some sick hours left to use.

Good God, I hoped my boss wouldn’t fire me for requesting time off at the last minute. I was risking things here, but I had to be there for him, be where he was. I had to help him through this.

“I’ll call our PA right now to book you an airline ticket. I’ll have Tilton go and pick you up when you arrive, all right?”

I stood and moved about the room, getting out my duffel bag. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be gone, so I needed to pack accordingly. “Okay.”

“We’re in Seattle, so he’ll be there waiting for you at the airport.”

“Okay,” I said as I threw a few outfits into the bag.

When he hung up, my jaw clenched as I remembered Josh. My stomach dropped at the thought that he had left without saying good-bye. But, when I walked into the kitchen, I saw a blur of brown hair with oven mitts Josh was bending down to put the cake in the oven. When he met my eyes, his sullen demeanor told me that he’d heard my whole conversation.

Damn…

“You’re done?” I was at a loss for words, feeling guilty as hell.

But he knows I’m with Hawke, I reminded myself.

“That, I am. I set the timer for you.” He peered up with a tight smile, picking up a dish rag.

I swallowed hard. I hated leaving him, but I had to be with Hawke.

“I’ve got to go,” I said quietly.

He nodded and averted his stare. “Figured.”

He wiped off the kitchen island and then tossed the rag into the sink. The thud from the cloth hitting the steel echoed as silence filled the space between us.

“Now, all it will need is frosting,” he said, his voice low and disappointed.

He proceeded to gather his belongings, and I watched him slip on his North Face jacket.

“Josh—” I started to apologize.

But he raised one hand, stepped toward me, and pulled me into an embrace. The look of longing was evident on his face. He was a whole head taller than me, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hair above my forehead. The kiss was chaste and sweet and signature Josh.

“I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you, Sam. Because he is.”

When my arms wrapped around his waist to hug him back, his whole body relaxed, but he was the first to pull away this time.

“Call me when you get back.” A smile touched his lips, but it didn’t resonate in his eyes. It wasn’t the typical Josh smile I was used to seeing, the contagious boyish smile. “And save me some of that cake.”

With that, he left out the door, and I marched back to my room, packing in a frenzy. With Josh gone, I shouldn’t feel this empty space in my heart, but I did. The void was vast and noticeably there.

* * *

Before I knew it, I had landed at the private airport in Seattle. When I stepped off the plane, Tilton was near the runway, waiting for me with a limo.

“Miss Clarke.” He gave his usual gruff nod and then a head tilt toward the car.

I went in for a hug, but he stiffened, so I settled for a shoulder pat. “Hey, Tilton. Thanks for picking me up.”

I’d think, with the amount of times I’d seen him, he would’ve warmed up to me by now.

I guessed not.

He took my carry-on from my hand and dropped it into the trunk. After I stepped into the car, I asked him about Hawke.

“He’s okay.” His words said one thing, but the underlying tension in his usually unemotional face had goose bumps forming on my skin, like a bad sunburn.

I clenched my jaw while the traffic formed in front of us. Seattle rain hit my window, the water trickling down like falling tears. My knees bounced with anticipation as I wondered what state Hawke would be in, and I couldn’t get to him fast enough.

But, when I got to the hotel music was blasting from the penthouse, the bass bouncing off the walls, like we were at a club. The sight of chaos was in front of me. People were drinking. Drugs were scattered over the tables. Half-naked women were making out with men I didn’t know. Over fifty people were in the room, making the massive area look tiny.

I’d never seen Cofi so out of it. I was only a foot away from him, and he didn’t even see me—or anyone, for that matter.

I had to sift through the craziness, but finally, I spotted Hawke in the corner, sitting on the couch, his eyes half closed and staring into space, numb to the world and numb to the crowd and numb to my arrival.

“Hawke,” I called out loud enough for him to hear me.

But he didn’t answer.

Awareness prickled my skin. He was on something. Something strong because he was oblivious of his surroundings. Three girls sat around him, equally high. One was chattering away, but he had no reaction, just the lazy smile on his face. My feet were paralyzed as I took in the scene, like clips from a bad movie.

Tilton grabbed my elbow and led me through the suite.

I jerked away and turned. “Hawke!” I yelled louder.

Still, nothing.

Bile rushed up my throat, the kind you couldn’t throw up even though you wanted to, lodged so that you could feel the burn. My eyes heated. My chin tensed. My muscles trembled.

Tilton gripped my elbow with such force that I threw him the meanest look.

“Let go.”

“No. I’ll bring him to you.” He led me to a private bedroom, and before he shut the door, he said, “Stay put.”

I paced the room, minutes seeming like hours. When the door finally opened, Hawke slowly strolled in, looking sloppy and incoherent. He staggered in my direction, his arms wrapping around my waist. If this were any other situation, I would’ve been smiling. But he reeked of hard liquor. And who knew what else was running through his veins?

With two hands pressed to my cheeks, he leaned in for a kiss. “Sunshine.”

The softness of his lips was so familiar and foreign at the same time. When he pulled back, the haziness in his eyes increased the dread in every part of my being.

I took his hands and pulled them down to his sides. “What did you take, Hawke?”

“You miss me, baby?” he asked, his voice groggy, his speech slurred. With a step forward, he linked his hands around my ass and pulled me into him. “’Cause, hell, I’ve missed you.”

Normally, desire would flood my veins but not this time. “Hawke, what are you on?” My muscles tightened, and I pushed back my shoulders, my eyes hard. The tension in my body was visible as my anger rose, reddening my face.

“Nothing,” he said with his lazy smile.

His ability to lie to me so easily had my stomach turning.

“You’re lying.”

It was clear he was doped up, and his lie had me doubting everything he’d ever said to me.

This was bringing me back to many years ago, when I’d found my mother in her bed after she found out that my father had left her for good for another woman. She’d looked calm in the moment, but I’d known that she was on something.

When I’d asked her what she had taken, she’d uttered the same word as Hawke, “Nothing.”

He dropped his head into my neck, and one hand fell to the top of my jeans. “Is this how we’re going to be? This is how you’re going to say hi after I haven’t seen you in forever?” His fingers undid my zipper.

“No, Hawke. Don’t.” I pulled back.

He couldn’t fill this void with sex, and he wasn’t going to use me to forget. That was not the reason I had come here, not the reason I had halted my life in Chicago to be by his side.

Sympathy replaced the doubt, if only for a moment, because it was the main reason I was here. “Hawke, have you talked to your mom?”

My question didn’t break his demeanor. He leaned in and dropped his head to the crook of my neck. “Yes,” he whispered against my neck. “Stage four cancer.”

My heart cracked in half for him. It cracked for the failed relationship that he’d never get back because it was too late. Even though she had wronged him too many ways to count, she was still his mother.

I slumped against him, my arms tightening around his whole body. “I’m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.” I held him in the silence while the chaos of the party boomed just outside the door.

He was unbelievably warm. Hot. As though he were suffering from a fever.

My fingers threaded through his hair, feeling the wetness from his sweat. I pulled back to search his face. “You okay?” I cupped his cheek. “You’re burning up.” In the softest voice—not accusatory, but with concern—I said, “Hawke, I need to know what you took.”

“Just something to calm me down. It’s nothing.” He swayed forward, looking like he was about to fall over.

“I think we need to call the doctor.”

He shook his head and pulled my hand to the bed. “No. Need rest.”

I followed his lead as he threw back the covers, dropped onto the mattress, and pulled me into his chest. “Sunshine, all I need is sleep. I’m tired.” His eyes fluttered closed. “So tired,” he said, tugging my body closer against his. “Tired of everything.”

Worry twisted around my heart as I rested my chin on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a sluggish beat.

The sound of the party next door continued, and as soon as I was sure he was asleep, I stormed out the door. Tilton was sitting in a chair against the wall, beer in his hand. When our eyes met, he stood, but I pushed a palm in his direction to tell him to sit down. Not like he’d listen.

He walked behind me as I stalked toward Cofi, who was laughing hysterically, high as a rocket ship.

I stood in front of him, both hands on my hips. I realized in that second, I hated him. Not because of his teasing. Not because of his lack of self-control. Simply because he was a dealer to my boyfriend, who’d been choosing to live the drug-free life so that he wouldn’t turn out like his mother.

“Sunshine!”

The powder was spread in neat lines across the glass table. I’d watched enough movies to know what they were doing. You’d think guilt or shame would be written on his face, but no. He had one arm slung over a girl whose eyes were drooping.

I glared at him. “What is Hawke on?”

He then ignored my presence and turned to the girl on his lap.

“What did you give him, Cofi?” I slapped the drink out of his hand.

The copper-colored liquid splattered everywhere, making the few people on the couch jump up, even Cofi himself.

Tilton took ahold of my wrist, but I tore from his grasp and stepped forward, chest-to-chest with Cofi. I had to tilt my head up to meet his over six-foot frame. He laughed like I was nobody, an ant he could just step on and then move on. Well, I wasn’t. Not when people I cared about were involved.

“What did you give him, Cofi?”

“Nothing he hasn’t taken before.” Cofi sidestepped me, trying to move past. “He asked for it, baby girl. It’s what we do together.” His laugh was cynical.

I fisted my hands at my sides. The only thing keeping me from punching Cofi was the bouncer wall between us.

“Fuck you!” I shouted.

He turned, his hand slung over the woman’s shoulders. Half of her tits were falling out from her deep V-neck tank top, but she was so doped up, she hardly noticed or didn’t care.

“I’d love to fuck you, baby. But I don’t think Hawke would appreciate that very much.”

“You’re an asshole!” I propelled myself forward, ready to tackle him, but Tilton held me back, his arms functioning as chains against my waist.

He carried me, as though I weighed as much as a toddler, and dropped me by the door to Hawke’s bedroom. I turned toward him, heat behind my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so angry.

Gah!

I wanted to take my fist and punch something, anything—preferably Cofi’s face.

I shoved Tilton’s chest. “If you love Hawke—and I know you do—keep him away from that asshole.” I stormed into our room and slammed the door shut, my breathing erratic. Then, I placed my hands on my chest to calm down.

Breathe, Sam. Breathe.

Hawke was sleeping soundly in the California king, and my insides constricted at the sight of him.

His mother was dying. I understood that he was hurting. I understood that he wanted to numb the pain. I just wished I’d been there for him sooner.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I slipped under the covers. I filled my usual spot against his chest, and when I brought my palm to his face, his skin was no longer hot. His cheeks were clammy, his lips no longer pink but pale.

Adrenaline spiked within me. Sheer terror rushed to the surface. I knelt by his head and brought my two fingers to his neck, feeling for his pulse. It was slow. Too slow. Like a clock gradually dying.

“Hawke.” I kissed his face to wake him. “Are you okay?”

No response.

All my muscles tensed. Everything in my body screamed to push the panic button, but I kept steady.

I lifted his head, but it dropped against the pillow.

Then, pure hysteria slapped me in the face. My heartbeat raced. Full-body tremors overtook me.

My hands shook him as I said his name, slowly at first, but then my voice heightened to a crazed tone. “Hawke!”

My head dropped to his chest.

Hearing nothing.

But cold, dead silence.

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