Something jerked me out of a sound sleep.

“Jett, wake up!”

My mother was shaking me. I sat up in bed.

“What is it?”

“It’s Ty. He’s gone.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Yeah. His car is gone. He’s not answering his phone.”

Damn.

He’d run.

My big brother, who had come so far, had decided to bail.

Why hadn’t he come to talk to me? I wasn’t going to let him go down. I thought I’d made that clear.

“I’ll find him, Mom.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. You need to stay home in case he shows up. Keep your cell on you and call me if you hear anything.”

Five hours of searching Chicago, making phone calls, checking with the bus companies and airlines and calling all the hospitals.

And nothing.

I had to go home and tell my mother I’d failed to find her first son.

I’d failed her, and I’d failed Tyler, my big brother.

I’d failed my bandmates by leaving town and skipping the concert at Zane’s last night. I’d failed my fans who’d been looking forward to seeing me.

And I’d failed Heather. I couldn’t give her what she deserved.

Hell, what we both deserved.

I’d most likely be going to prison along with my brother. I’d take time if I had to in order to get my mother off the hook.

Failure.

A long time had passed since I’d used that word to describe myself. But I couldn’t even take credit for my success. That credit belonged to Alicia.

Fucking Alicia.

She would ruin me and my family, and she’d laugh as she did it. I did have one consolation, though. I’d never have to go near the bitch again. I’d no longer have to come when she called, stick my dick into her evil body.

As glad as that thought made me, I’d gladly fuck her for the rest of my life if I could save Tyler and my mom.

But could I give up Heather? Heather, who had grown to be as necessary to me as breathing?

I drove up to Mom’s house and went inside.

She ran up to me, her eyes pleading.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t find him.”

“Oh, Jeremy!” She fell into my arms, sobbing. “He was doing so well.”

“I know. I know. But this is all on me, Mom.”

“No. Don’t say that.”

“If I hadn’t been so eager to make it to the top…” I shook my head and kissed the top of my mother’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she said again, the words muffled by her soft weeping.

We stood there, hugging, for what seemed like an eternity, until the door opened.

“Mom. Jer.”

My mom gasped and pulled away from me. “Tyler!” She ran into my brother’s arms.

I turned and stared. An attractive woman in a navy blue suit accompanied him.

“Ty,” I said. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I have a lot to tell you both.” He turned to the woman. “This is Fran O’Hara. She’s a friend of mine. And an attorney.”

Fran held out her hand to Mom. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Gustafson.”

“Call me Eden,” Mom said. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand—”

“She’s our attorney, Mom,” Tyler said. “I just hired her.”

“I’ve known Tyler for a couple years,” Fran said. “He made all the furniture for my office.”

“Fran was good enough to see me this morning without an appointment,” Tyler said. “In fact, she cleared her schedule for the day at my request.”

“Whatever for?” I asked.

“Fran specializes in criminal defense,” Tyler said.

My stomach churned. “Tyler. What have you done?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago. Can we sit down, please?”

Tyler led us all into the living room, where he sat with Fran on the couch, and Mom and I each took a chair.

“I’ve made a deal,” Tyler said. “Or rather, Fran made an amazing deal for me. I should let her tell it.”

“Tyler explained to me what happened with Harley Massey,” she said. “How you both helped him cover up his involvement.”

Nausea swept up my throat as fingers of fear clawed at me. I didn’t like where this was going.

“I called the DA,” Fran continued, “who happens to be a law school classmate of mine. I explained the situation, and we were able to strike a deal.”

“What deal?” Mom asked, her voice shaking.

Tyler cleared his throat. “I’m probably going to prison.”

“No!” Mom stood.

“Sit down, Mom,” I said, my body numb. “Let’s hear him out.”

“I have to do it,” Tyler said. “I should have done it seven years ago. I’m guilty, after all.”

“But of course there are many extenuating circumstances,” Fran said. “And luckily the DA understands that. What Tyler did amounts to voluntary manslaughter, not murder. The DA thinks he can get the judge to accept a guilty plea to the lesser crime of involuntary manslaughter with a sentence not to exceed twelve months in prison.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling numb. “What if the judge doesn’t accept that?”

“Then I go to trial for voluntary manslaughter, Jer. It’s okay. I know the risk involved.”

“But this is an old crime,” Fran said. “The judge will probably be thrilled to plead it down. The dockets are overflowing. Plea bargains happen all the time. It’s standard procedure.”

“No, Ty,” Mom said. “You can’t go to prison. I won’t allow it.”

“With all due respect, Mom, that’s not your decision to make. I’m a grown man.”

“There’s more,” Fran said. “My deal with the DA includes immunity for both of you. Neither of you will be prosecuted as accessories after the fact.”

“No,” Mom said again. “You can’t do this, Ty.”

“I can do this, and I will. You two have always been there for me, and now Jeremy is in a mess because of what he did to help me.” He turned to me. “You deserve love, bro. Go find your woman. Tell her how you feel.”

“Ty—”

“Hey, you want me to put you in the dryer again?”

I couldn’t help a chuckle. When I was two, apparently I’d done something to piss Ty off—he couldn’t remember what—and he’d put me in the dryer. I didn’t remember any of it, but Mom and Ty told the story all the time.

“Let me do this for you, Jer. I owe you, brother.” He patted his left upper arm.

Though his long-sleeved button-down hid it, I knew what he was referencing. Before I left for LA, Ty and I had gotten matching Celtic lion tattoos—a nod to our mother’s Irish heritage, and also a celebration of our brotherhood. We’d always be there for each other no matter what, no matter where life led either of us. I choked up a little, not able to respond.

“I’ll be okay. I’m on my meds, and twelve months is a long cry from forever.”

“But if they don’t accept the plea—”

“Then I go to trial. And with Fran here representing me, I might just get off.”

“I assure you that you’re worrying needlessly,” Fran said. “There’s a ninety-nine percent chance the judge will accept the plea.”

Mom finally backed down, nodding. “All right, Ty. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Mom. Let me clean up my own mess for once.”

“When do you see the judge?” I asked.

“I was able to call in a favor and get him on the docket for four this afternoon.” She checked her watch. “Which means we need to get to the courthouse.”

“We’ll all go,” I said. “I should change. But I don’t have a suit here at home.”

“Just something other than jeans will be fine,” Fran said.

I stood and shook Fran’s hand. “Just so you know, don’t worry about getting your bills paid. I’ll take care of all of it.”

“I wasn’t worried. I told Ty I’d be happy to take it in a bedroom suite for my new home.” She smiled.

“One way or the other, you’ll get every penny and then some,” I assured her. Then I went to my room to change.