“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice escalated into a scream.

“So, what? You’d fly back home thinking about it the entire time? Her hooked up to a ventilator, dying?”

“Dying?” I realized I sounded like a dumbass, but couldn’t help it.

What was I expecting to happen? For her to walk swiftly out of this place? Maybe do cartwheels all the way to the parking lot? It was too late for a lung transplant, too late for experimental treatments, too late, period.

Dad shook his head. It occurred to me that I needed to be there for him like he was there for me. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even breathe. I shook my head, stood up, and stalked back into the ICU, slapping the glass door, flinging it open. I could hear Dad’s footsteps following me.

I took out my phone, ignoring the five missed calls from Dixie, and texted Luna.

Knight: My mom is in a coma.

Her answer came not even a minute later.

Luna: On my way.

A bottle of whiskey.

Two more Xanax.

One Adderall because I needed to concentrate on shit in class. (See? Responsible adult.) That was basically my menu for Monday, as Dad hurled me into Vaughn’s car and insisted I go to school. I fought him on it. Of course I did. What kid goes to school when his mom is in a coma?

“This one does.” Dad slammed the passenger door in my face, ignoring Vaughn, and Hunter in the back seat. “It’s chemically induced. We have the situation under control. Show up to class, do your best, come back here, and we’ll see her together.”

I opened my mouth to argue again, but clamped it shut when Hunter, behind me, said, “We’ll take good care of him, sir.”

“Hunter…” Dad dug his fingers into his eye sockets. “No offense, but I wouldn’t trust you with an ant. Unfortunately, I have my plate full right now. Just go.”

The entire way to school, Vaughn stole glances at me with his slanted, icy-blue eyes. I realized things were dire when even he was on his best behavior. Dude didn’t do pity and didn’t cut corners. He had a mean streak a mile long and never missed an opportunity to kick you while you were down.

“Not sure drinking yourself into liver failure is the best course of action right now.” He moved his gum from side to side in his mouth.

“Not sure I asked for your fucking medical opinion,” I snapped, leaning my head against the window and closing my eyes.

Hunter sucked in a charged breath behind us. Someone pounded their fists from the inside of my head to my eyes.

I was pretty sure it was Dixie.

Hunter pulled my head off of a toilet in the school’s bathroom. My face was wet. My hair dripped down my Armani shirt. I knew it was Hunter because I heard his voice growling, but I couldn’t for the life of me open my eyes.

“This is even more pathetic than dying on the toilet seat. Fuckboy literally almost drowned inside a toilet.”

Vaughn’s voice came next.

“I need to give Mr. Astalis my application. You have to deal with this mess.”

“You asshole. What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Just put him in my car.”

“You’re seriously going to have him wait like this?” Hunter shrieked.

“He did that to himself.” I could hear the shrug in Vaughn’s voice. “Call it a hard-earned lesson.”

“Can I just call you a cunt?” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move my lips at all.

I heard Vaughn tossing Hunter his car keys, and Hunter catching them and hauling me up. I was dragged, pushed, tucked inside a car, and buckled.

And by the time I knew what was happening, I’d passed out again.

“You smell like shit, and you’re making my car smell like it, too.”

I didn’t answer Vaughn.

“Passing out inside a public toilet bowl. Real classy, Knight. Hit rock bottom yet?”

“Not yet,” I groaned, gaining consciousness. Everything hurt. Most of all? Living through this nightmare.

“I’m telling your parents.”

“They know.” I grinned, closing my eyes. “And they don’t have time for this crap. But go ahead. Make things more difficult for them. Oh, wait, my dad is flailing to keep himself going, and my mom is in a fucking coma. Good luck getting a response from either.”

Vaughn shook his head.

I laughed, even though nothing was funny anymore.

If I’d thought getting into Mom’s room and seeing her hooked up to chirping machines that sounded like freight trains and were programmed to help her breathe would soothe my aching ass, I was gravely mistaken. Dad held my hand on one side, Lev’s on the other. The three of us stood there, staring. Staring. Staring.

The notion that it was the end was so strong you could feel it in the air.

Not just the end for her, but for all of us.

I used to get this idea that the end of the world was happening right in front of me, since I’d learned about Mom’s disease at a young age. Sometimes I’d climb up the forest’s mountain, look at the nothingness surrounding me, and think—this is it. The end of the world. Right here. Or it was when thunder cracked, and fog descended over the roads, misting the car windows. Or when I concentrated on that thin line between the skyline and the ocean, imagining myself sliding into it and letting it suck me into another dimension.