“C’mon, bro.” I looked over my shoulder and stared at a mirror image of myself. Declan was my identical twin, older than me by only thirty minutes. And judging by the death glare beaming my way from his dark eyes, he wasn’t super happy with me at the moment. “It’s time to go.”

I moved towards him and flung my arm over his shoulder. “Dude, chill out. We’ve got plenty of time before curfew. There’s no need to rush out of here when we’re having a good time.”

The guys I’d been standing with nodded their heads in agreement. Declan didn’t seem convinced as he shifted his glare their way and shook his head. “I hate to ruin your fun, but my brother and I need to hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I groaned, recognizing his tone of voice. There wasn’t going to be any budging Declan on this. It was time to go. “You heard my brother, guys. It looks like I’m outta here.”

I got a few chin lifts before our friends were distracted by a group of girls who walked over. Not that I blamed them since they were dressed to party in short skirts, low cut tops, and high heels. I hated to be dragged away from all the tits and legs, but I wasn’t going to argue with my brother over it. Not when there were plenty more parties for us to go to before we graduated, and a ton more after since we planned to attend the same college. “Bros before hoes,” I mumbled to myself as we walked outside and headed towards my car.

“And that’s my sign to take the keys away from you.” Declan snagged the fob from my hand after I pulled it out the front pocket of my jeans.

“Dude,” I complained while I tried to swipe the key back from him. “I’m fine to drive.”

“Nope. It’s not gonna happen. Not after you’ve been drinking and smoking pot. You know the rule as well as I do.”

“Only one of us lets loose at a time so the other is there to be responsible,” we said in unison. It was an agreement we’d made back in our freshman year; to keep us out of trouble with school, our parents, and the police. No drunk driving, and we always looked out for each other. One of us being sober was the key to that.

The original plan had been to take turns, but it quickly changed when Declan landed a spot on the first line for defense and offense on the school’s football team. He didn’t want to do anything that would risk his time on the field, so he became the sickeningly good twin. The one who never drank and didn’t smoke pot. And me? I took full advantage of having him around to make sure I didn’t get caught if I had a few drinks or took a hit from the bong when it was passed around.

Like tonight. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t still going to give him shit since that’s what brothers did, especially us. “You’re right. As much as it pains me to admit it since you suck behind the wheel, you should drive.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled. “I don’t suck.”

“Remind me again…how many times did you have to take the road test to get your license?”

He slugged me on the shoulder, and I stumbled back a step. “Hey, that hurt me almost as much as my dig about your driving must have stung you.”

“Whatever, jackass. Get in the car.”

I walked around to the passenger side of my BMW, and Declan climbed into the driver’s seat. I groaned when he turned up the volume on my sound system and blared the alternative rock he preferred to listen to. I couldn’t complain too much though, not when the only time I let him pick what we played in my car was when he was behind the wheel. And that only happened a couple of times a month, tops.

I might’ve taken on the role of bad twin, but I wasn’t completely out of control or anything like that. I still got good grades, only I had to work harder for mine. My SAT scores had been good enough to get me into almost any college, but they hadn’t been the almost perfect score Declan had received. I played at my brother’s side on the offensive line, but not on the defense too. So I wasn’t a total fuckup. I just liked to party more than he did, which wasn’t hard since he was wound so damn tight.

“You gonna loosen up at all when we get out of here and head off to college? Pledge a frat? Maybe get wasted at a party so I’m the one who has to drag your ass back to the dorm?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“How much scholarship money we get, if we’re playing football, how hard my major is, and which school we pick.”

“Declan,” I sighed. “You need to stop worrying about the future so much and enjoy the now. We’re only seventeen. That’s way too young for you to worry like an old man already.”

“Almost eighteen,” he corrected.

“Seventeen, eighteen. What the fuck ever.” Our birthday was less than two months away, but I didn’t think that made a big difference. “Either way, you need to chill out. These are supposed to be the best years of our lives, and you’re missing out on most of the fun.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for me to have fun.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But that’s not going to stop me from trying to talk you into being the one who lets loose at the next party.”

“You need to learn how to say no to the pot, bro. You get all mushy and shit whenever you hit the bong.”

“You might have a point.” I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes. “It makes me hungry, too. Any chance we can make a pit stop at the Taco Bell drive through before we head home?”

“I was already planning on it,” he laughed.

“You know me so well.”

“Always have, always will.”

I smiled, knowing it was true. Declan wasn’t just my brother. He was my best friend. My other half. We’d been together before we were born, and I couldn’t imagine a time when we wouldn’t be at each other’s side.

I turned my head to look at him and was about to say something along those lines when I caught sight of bright lights barreling towards us out of the corner of my eye. Declan had just crossed into the intersection on a green light, but a semi had blown through a red. I only remembered flashes after he crashed into us.

Breaking glass.

Squealing tires.

Declan’s scream, along with my own.

Immense pain pressing against my chest.

Red and blue lights.

My mom crying.

The beeping of monitors.

When I finally woke up again, the time in between was a blur. My mom was next to my bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. My dad was at her side, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his eyes were rimmed with red.

Pulling the oxygen mask from my face, I croaked out, “Declan?”

Their heads jerked up and they jumped to their feet. “My baby boy,” my mom sighed, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You’re finally awake.”

“Declan?” I repeated.

My mom’s cries turned to sobs, and she buried her face in my dad’s chest. He was the one who gave me the devastating news, wrapping his hand around mine and squeezing. “Your brother didn’t make it.”

“What? No!” I shook my head, ignoring the pull of the wires connecting me to a multitude of medical equipment. The machines beeped wildly as my heart raced. Declan couldn’t have died. It was impossible. “He can’t be gone.”

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s true,” my mom sniffled. “Declan didn’t make it.”

“It’s my fault,” I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut. My chest felt like it was caving in. From guilt. Pain. Loss.

Nurses and doctors came streaming into the room, and my parents were pushed out as the medical team worked on me. It was at least half an hour later when they’d checked me over and let my parents back into the room.

“Dillon,” my mom cried, rushing towards me. “It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“Your mother is right, son. Losing Declan the way we did is a tragedy, but it was an accident. We’ve seen the footage from the red light camera, and there’s nothing he could have done to avoid that truck.”

It didn’t matter what the cameras showed. I still felt like it was my fault. It had been my car. I was the better driver. “Maybe if I’d been behind the wheel—”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” my dad assured me. “The accident still would have happened.”

My mom sat down in the chair next to me and took my hand in hers. “You can’t play the what if game, Dillon. You’ll just drive yourself crazy if you do.”

But how could I not? So much had changed, and I felt like it had only been a blink of an eye.

“It’s really been a month?” I asked. One of the nurses had mentioned how long I’d been in a coma, and I was still trying to wrap my brain around it.

My mom nodded, gulping back a sob.

“And Declan? Did he suffer?” I was tortured by the thought that I’d been in a coma, feeling no pain, while my brother endured hell for both of us before dying.

My parents shared a look before my dad answered, “No, he died on impact, and so did the driver of the semi. Declan didn’t suffer.”

I couldn’t have cared less about what happened to the driver who’d killed my brother, but the relief I felt at learning Declan hadn’t suffered was immense. For years, I held onto that fact each time my grief threatened to pull me under. It wasn’t much comfort, but at least it was something.