The noise in the bar throbbed in my ears. Voices and music created a thick layer of sound that filled the space. Pressed against me. The dim light and constant noise wrapped around me, cradling me with their familiarity.

I sat on a stool, running a finger along the rim of my glass of… something. Whiskey, maybe? I’d already forgotten what I’d ordered. Didn’t matter. My head was pleasantly fuzzy, the buzz keeping my thoughts aimless. That was all I needed tonight—the haze of booze. The ebb and flow of people moving around me. Distraction. Anything to keep my mind off the hollow space in my chest.

Not that it worked very well. Nothing did. Even the oblivion of sleep never provided real relief. It was always there. The ache. Whether it was hovering in the background of my consciousness, or stabbing my awareness like a knife, the ache was a part of me, now.

It stole through my chest, radiating from the place where my heart had once lived. Nothing was left in that space. Just an empty hole. Sure, I still had an organ to pump blood through my veins. But my heart? It had been torn from my chest. Held outside my body, beating in time with the machines that had kept Liam’s organs functioning. It had stopped when Liam’s had. Died with him.

In the beginning, the pain had been debilitating. I’d awoken every morning and the ache had ripped through me, burning me from the inside. It would steal my breath, take the oxygen from the air, leave me gasping. It had been shocking to realize that the pain wouldn’t kill me. That my body would continue to function in such a state of desperate agony.

But it had. I’d gone on, day after day, still breathing. Still existing.

I took a drink. Felt the burn as it slipped down my throat. A hint of nausea turned my stomach over and my cheeks felt flushed.

“Hey Rick, can I get some water?”

Rick, the bartender tonight, nodded. He got me a glass of ice water and slid it across the bar. “Have you had anything to eat tonight, kiddo?”

I cracked a little smile. “Aw, are you worried about me? Or just worried I’ll puke on the bar?”

He wiped a few drops of moisture off the bar top. “You just look a little pale. Maybe you should call it a night. Go get some food and sleep it off.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Rick.” I flashed him another smile I didn’t feel. I always gave people a pretty smile. Real or not, it was what they wanted to see. “But I’m fine.”

He raised his eyebrows, like he didn’t believe me. Which was fine. I didn’t believe me either.

I wasn’t all that drunk. I knew where I was and what I was doing. But my level of intoxication had nothing to do with whether or not I was fine. Another girl could be smashed out of her mind, falling all over the place, puking her brains out, and she’d be more fine than I was.

Shifting on the stool, I glanced at the band. They called themselves the Death Pixies, which was pretty fucking stupid if you asked me. I thought it made them sound like an all-girl punk band, but they were a bunch of rocker guys in ripped denim and leather.

Jared met my eyes, a slow smile crossing his face while he sang into the mic. It made my stomach turn again. I took a sip of water, hoping it would help. His hair was slicked back, his jaw rough with a week’s growth of stubble. Full sleeve tattoos on both arms. Half the girls in here were ready to spread their legs for him, and he acted like he only had eyes for me.

He wasn’t my boyfriend. He liked to put on a show in front of other people, claiming some alpha-male style ownership over me. Give a shout out to his girl in the crowd, fling an arm around my shoulders, grab my ass when he knew people were watching. Make his groupies jealous. He loved that shit. Ate up the attention like it was booze-filled candy.

But he was just as likely to fuck some random tonight as he was me. He didn’t love me, and I didn’t love him. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I even liked him. He was an asshole with an ego so big I was surprised he fit in the bar.

It raised the question: What the hell was I doing here, sitting in a crowded bar, drinking too much while Jared and his band played mediocre music?

Mostly, I didn’t have anywhere else to be.

I’d lost yet another job, and this time, my apartment with it. I’d known Jared and the other guys in the band for a while. We traveled in the same social circle, if that’s what you called a bunch of people who partied together and generally knew each other’s names. They all lived in an old house not far from here, and they’d offered to let me come crash with them.

Hooking up with Jared offered me the protection I needed, living with a group of five guys who were drunk or high more often than not. Jared had claimed me, so the other guys left me alone. And he wasn’t all bad. We did have fun together. He had a crazy streak—liked to flirt with danger. Chase the adrenaline rush. So did I. He often said he liked me because I was the only one who could keep up with him.

Our non-relationship worked for me. I wasn’t capable of loving someone, and that wasn’t what he wanted. He liked the appearance, having someone to call his muse, without the hassle of having a real girlfriend. And if I slept with him sometimes, there was no harm in it. He was a distraction. Something to fill the empty space inside of me, even if only for a little while.

I wasn’t my mother, with a desperate need to be with a man. To not be alone. I hadn’t moved from guy to guy since losing Liam. Sure, I lived with Jared now, but it was temporary. I’d get back on my feet and move on.

That’s what I’d been telling myself, at least. But as I took another swallow of whiskey—or whatever this was; it didn’t taste like anything to me—I knew the truth. Every day I inched closer to being just like her. My only hope was that I retained a degree of self-awareness that she’d lacked. And maybe that would count for something.

My mother had always blamed everyone else for the way her life had turned out. She’d gotten pregnant with me when she was too young. My dad had skipped out on her. The guys she’d dated had screwed her over. Everything had always been someone else’s fault.

I knew how badly I’d fucked myself over. I didn’t claim to be a victim of circumstance. I’d lost my job because I’d stopped showing up. Lost my apartment because I hadn’t paid the rent. My life was a disaster, but it was all on me. I could blame Liam for dying, but other people had loved him too. They weren’t sitting half-drunk in a dive bar, listening to their non-boyfriend’s band, picking up a few shifts at a crappy diner as their only means of feeding themselves.

The problem was, it was hard to give a shit.

I felt as if I’d died when Liam had. It wasn’t that I was suicidal. Even in the darkest days after the accident, I hadn’t wanted to end my life. But I didn’t really care if I lived, either.

I was a ghost, cursed with the torture of half-existence. Moving through the world as if I were alive. But all the important parts of me were dead. All that was left was a shell.

Sometimes I wondered if people could see through me. Did I look as washed out as I felt? Translucent, like a pale gossamer curtain blowing in the wind? Would I eventually fade into nothingness?

After I lost Liam, I’d tried. Tried so hard to keep myself together. I’d gone back to school when the new semester had started. Went to work. Did my homework. Paid my bills. For a while, anyway.

But little by little, I’d stopped doing those things. And of course, there had been consequences. Fail enough classes, and your admission is revoked. Miss enough work, and you get fired. Don’t pay your bills, and things get shut off.

Did any of it matter, if I wasn’t really alive?

The band finished their set and Jared worked his way over to me. Took his time, stopping to talk to some girl in a black halter top, her boobs spilling out. She looked like most of the girls in this place—rocker girls with lots of makeup, bright red lips, dressed in black. I stood out like a nun in a whorehouse in this place, with my breezy white peasant blouse, cut-off jeans, and collection of beaded bracelets on my wrists. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to change how I dressed for some guy.

Jared met my eyes again and sauntered through the crowd, like the fucking peacock he was. His shirt halfway unbuttoned, ripped jeans slung low on his hips.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said. His eyes flicked to Rick behind the bar. “Shot of Jack. And another one for my girl.”

I finished off the last of my current drink. If Jared was buying more, I wasn’t saying no.

“How’d we sound tonight?” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and stuck one between his lips, then offered one to me.

I only smoked when I was drunk, but I was close enough. I took it between two fingers. “You sounded good.”

“Just good?” he asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Rick slid his drink across the bar and Jared downed it in one swallow.

“Is your ego really that sensitive?” I asked. “If you need someone to flatter you, try Miss Huge Tits in the halter top over there.”

“God, I love it when you get jealous,” he said.

I laughed and took the shot of whiskey, but didn’t bother to correct him. If he wanted to think I was jealous, that was fine. I didn’t feel much of anything, so what did it matter?

“Come on, baby doll,” he said. “I need a smoke.”

He wrapped a possessive arm around me as we walked through the bar, heading for the door. Outside, the heat was still thick. It was unseasonably warm for spring, even in Phoenix.

“Fucking heat,” Jared muttered as he lit his cigarette. “Shouldn’t be so goddamn hot this time of year. Sometimes I think we should get the fuck out of this place.”

He lit mine and I took a drag. Blew out the smoke. Jared talked about leaving Phoenix all the time—usually to move to L.A. “Yeah, the heat sucks.”

His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. Typed something. I wandered up the sidewalk, my cigarette dangling from my fingers. I didn’t really want it, so I just let it burn. The smoke curled upward as the ash on the tip grew. I paused and stared at it, seeing her. Standing over me in the street, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. Still burning while she hit me. Liam’s voice behind me. What the hell are you doing?

I don’t know, Liam. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“Hey. Got a light?”

I hadn’t noticed the guy come up beside me. Too lost in my own head. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, a battered baseball cap on his head. He held up a cigarette and raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I don’t.”

He shrugged and tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “No big deal.”

“You can have mine,” I said, offering my half-burned cigarette. “I’m kind of just holding it. It’s going to waste.”

One corner of his mouth tugged upward as he took it from me. Placed his lips around the tip and inhaled. Turned and blew out the smoke. “That would have been better if you’d have left some lipstick on the tip.”

I stepped backward. “That wasn’t an invitation to hit on me. Sorry.”

The guy opened his mouth to say something, but Jared pushed his way between us.

“Move on, asshole,” Jared said.

“Hey, I was just—”

“You were just getting the fuck out of here,” Jared said.

The guy seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the confrontation. With a half-glare, half-smile that seemed to say she’s not worth the trouble, he turned and walked away.

Jared grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “What the hell was that?”

His grip was tight, digging into my skin. “Nothing. He asked if I had a lighter.”

“You know that guy?”

“No. God, Jared, let go. That hurts.”

Twisting my arm painfully, he squeezed harder. “Don’t fucking do that again. I don’t like it.” He let go and I clutched my wrist to my body. “I want to get out of here. I’ll go get the bike.”

Without waiting for my reply, he turned and left, heading up the street to where he’d parked his motorcycle.

I rubbed my wrist. He’d left red marks in the shape of his fingers. It burned, like a demon singed by holy water. I almost expected to see hissing smoke rising from the redness.

In another life, I would have written that down. Now, I didn’t have anything with me to write on.

My phone rang, the noise making me jump. I pulled it out of my pocket and my breath froze in my lungs as I stared at the name on the screen.

Mary Harper.

It had been months since Liam’s mom had last tried to call. I hadn’t answered that time. I’d texted her a few days later, apologizing for missing her call and promising to call back. I hadn’t.

In fact, it had been almost two years since I’d seen any of Liam’s family. I’d pushed them away so hard, they’d eventually stopped trying. Plus, the last time I’d seen Olivia, she’d made it clear how she felt about me. That had been more than enough to keep me away.

“Hello?” I heard my own voice as if it were outside of me—someone else speaking. Had I answered her call? What the fuck was I thinking? Maybe I was drunker than I thought.

“Brooke?” Mary’s voice. So familiar. So kind. It pushed at the ache in my chest, stirring it up so the pain felt almost fresh. “Brooke, is that you?”

“Yeah,” I said, hoping I sounded clear. I didn’t want her to know I’d been drinking.

“I’m so glad I reached you,” she said. “How are you?”

God, that question. But I was good at lying about it. “I’m good. Fine. Just kind of tired. It’s late.”

“I know, I’m sorry for calling so late,” she said. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

“We’ve been in touch with someone,” she said. “One of the organ recipients.”

Her words didn’t register at first. Organ recipients? She couldn’t mean…

“What?”

“Four years ago, a young man in Iowa needed a heart transplant,” she said. “He received Liam’s heart.”

His heart? It felt like I couldn’t breathe—like my lungs were caught in a vise. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said. “He wrote to us. And, well, we’ve invited him to meet, here in Phoenix. That’s why I’m calling. We were hoping you would come.”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold myself together. “When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “We’re meeting for lunch at Nora’s Kitchen, do you remember that restaurant? I’m not sure where you’re living now, but if you need a ride, I’m sure we could come pick you up.”

Pick me up? Wait, no. This was moving too fast. “No, you wouldn’t need to do that. I know where that is.”

“I know this is difficult,” she said. “But I think it will be a positive experience for all of us. Show us the good that came from Liam’s death.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from shouting at her. Nothing good had come from Liam’s death. Not a single fucking thing. I didn’t care about some asshole in Iowa who’d needed a heart. Why was his life so special? Liam had been taken from me—from all of us—and nothing was ever going to make that okay.

But I didn’t want to make Mary feel bad. I’d done enough of that already. “I’m just not sure if I can make it tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, I should have given you more notice. And if you just… well, if you just can’t, I certainly understand. I know how hard this is.”

Goddammit, why did she have to be so good? I knew they were disappointed in me, but Mary was always understanding. Sometimes I wished she’d just yell at me. Get angry. Call me names and lay the blame for everything at my feet. At least I’d deserve it.

But I desperately wanted to make her happy. She’d been a better mother to me than mine ever had, and I knew I’d hurt her by pushing her away after Liam died.

It wasn’t just the pain of seeing his family. That was hard. But I didn’t want her to know—didn’t want any of them to know—what a mess I’d become. How far I’d fallen. I was ashamed of myself for falling apart and not being strong enough to put the pieces back together.

Still, I found myself answering. “Yeah, okay. I might be able to come.”

“Yes?” She seemed to cover the phone or turn to speak to someone else. Probably Brian. “Yes, she said she might come.” Clearer, now. “We would all love it so much if you did. We’ve missed you.”

Not all of you.

“So, I guess I’ll just meet you there?”

“Yes, meet us there at noon,” she said. “Thank you, honey. We’re all looking forward to seeing you.”

Jared pulled up beside me, the roar of his motorcycle making it impossible to hear.

“Um, I have to go,” I said, half-shouting into the phone. I couldn’t hear if she replied.

My hands shook as I ended the call. What had I done? I’d just agreed to see the Harpers. Tomorrow. To meet the man who’d received Liam’s heart, of all things.

I’d been in some messed up situations in the last few years, but this took the cake, hands down.

I put my phone in my pocket and climbed on the back of the bike, slipping my arms around Jared’s waist. Out of nowhere, I swore I could hear Mary’s voice, asking me why I wasn’t wearing a helmet.

Because it doesn’t matter, that’s why.

“Ready, baby doll?” Jared asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rumbling engine.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He pulled out onto the street and hit the gas. My body thrilled at the sudden burst of speed. The danger. The wind blew my hair back from my face and I leaned over just enough to watch the lights race toward us. Alcohol and speed was a potent combination, one of the few things that worked anymore. One of the few things that made me feel as if I were still alive.