WARPOPPY

WarSeriesBook1

STEVIEJ.COLE&LPLOVELLWRITINGAS

NICOLELYNNE

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Theyshallgrownotold,aswethatareleftgrowold:

Ageshallnotwearythem,northeyearscondemn.

Atthegoingdownofthesunandinthemorning

Wewillrememberthem.

Playlist

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WarHope .WarSe rie s:BookTwo.

Foreword

PLEASEREADTHISNOTE:

HIS

WORK

FICTION

HILE

PTSD

VERY

REAL

CONDITION

THE

WAY

WHICH

REPRESENTED

fictional.Innoinstanceisthedepictioninthisbookmeanttoencompassallaspectsofthedisease,noris
itmeanttostereotypeanyonewhosuffersfromit.Weonlyhopewewereabletoprovidearepresentation
ofwhatitcando,bothtothepersonwhosuffersfromitandtheirlovedones.

-StevieandLauren

Prologue

BRANDON

HEAD

AIN

RICOCHETS

THROUGH

SKULL

HIT

FEEL

JUST

GOT

RUN

OVER

TRUCK

HERE

’

continuousdrip, drip, drip, as rhythmic as a heartbeat as something warm soaks through my jacket and
protective vest. I touch a hand to one ringing ear and my fingers come away wet. Fucking brilliant.
Bustedeardrum.Ifighttoblinkmyeyesopen,andeventhroughmydistortedvisionIcanmakeoutthe
bloodcoveringmyfingertips.ThefoxhoundisonitssideandmyCOlimplyhangsaboveme,hisbody
held in place by the seat harness. A thick piece of shrapnel is buried in his neck, the blood steadily
drippingdownonme.

Mymindnumblyassessesthesituationwithanoddsenseofdistance,nothingbutbloodandtwisted

metal surrounding me. I undo the harness holding me into the seat, groaning as I slowly roll onto my
stomach. The second I flip over, glass bites into my forearms, adding to the chorus of pain pulsing
throughout every inch of my body. I stare down at the metal window grill. The stench of smoke, diesel
fuel, and charred flesh hangs heavy in the air, and I cough, sending the gritty sand beneath the busted
windowupintomyface.EventhoughI’mdisorientedasfuck,thatsmellsendsmeintofightmode.Ineed
to move. I need to get out of here. I quickly push up to my hands. Shards of glass embed in my skin,
slicingthroughthemeatofmypalms,butIbarelyfeelit.

Istillandlistencarefullyforthedistinctivepop,pop,popofgunfire,butallIcanhearisalow,static

buzz—onecontinuousnoteringingthroughmydamagedeardrums.

Connor. Where’s Connor? My heart beat picks up. Fear grips me in its clutches, completely over-

ridinganyobjectionsmybrokenbodymayhave.Icrawlovertheseat,throwingmyselfintothebackof
thefoxhound.Connorissprawledawkwardlyinthecorneragainstthebackdoorwithhislifelesseyes
staringstraightatme.Hismangledfaceiscoveredwithburnsandblood.MychestheavesandIchokeout
ananguishedsob,butthesoundislost,fallingonmyowndeafearsbecauseIamallthat'sleft.They'reall
dead. Connor is dead. My best friend. My brother. I shake him in the desperate hope that my eyes are
deceivingme,thatthisisn’treal.Butstill,thatthousand-yarddeathstareremainslockedonme.

IpullmyweightovertheseatandthenIfall,hittingthebackdoorwithathud.Thepainissointense

thatmyvisionblacksoutforasecond,butIfightthroughit.Connorneedsme.He'snotfuckingdead.I
won'tlethimdie.IrollhimontohisbackandtearhisjacketopenbeforeyankingtheVelcrostrapsofhis
vestawayfrantically.Ileanoverhiminthecrampedspaceandpressbothhandstohischest,pushingall
my weight down over and over. I keep going until my arms weaken and my damaged body threatens to
giveout.Nothing.Still,hestaresblankly.Dead.Gone.TearsstreamdownmyfaceasIcollapseonmy
backbesidehim.Suddenlythesmellofsmokeanddieseldon'tseemimportant.Withouthimnothingis.
Pullinghimcloser,Icradlehislimpbodyaseverythingthatmademe—madeus—disintegrates.Iclingto
him,becausethesecondIletgoImustfaceaworldwithouthim.AndifIstayherelongenough,maybe

thevehiclewillblowupandIwon'thaveto.

ChapterOne

POPPY

“Earthquake”-EmRossi

Poppy,

Ihatewritingthesefuckingletters.It’sdepressing.Butifyou’rereadingthis,thenitmeansI
amactuallydeadand,well,thatsucks.Don'tletthemplayshitmusicatthefuneral,okay?I
wanttogooutinablazeofglorywithalltheCatholicslookingpositivelyscandalised.

Thisisn’thowitwassupposedtogo.We’resupposedtogrowoldtogetherandannoyour

kidsbecausewewon’thurryupanddiealready.I’mdestinedtobethatoldfuckwhofartsat
thefamilydinnerbutaccidentallyshitshimself.Seriouslybabe,lifegoals.

IhavebeeninlovewithyousinceIwastenyearsoldandyouputguminmyhairbefore

hackingamassivebaldpatchinmyscalpwithapairofsafetyscissors.Mymawentmadand
shavedmywholeheadonpureprinciple.Ilookedlikearightprick.Iwasstilllikealove-sick
puppyforyouthough.Youhadmebytheballsandeveryoneknewit.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you when I promised I never would. I can honestly say I have

livedwithnoregrets,untilnow,untilI’mfacedwiththeideaofleavingyou.Butyouwon’tbe
alone. Brandon will always watch out for you because he loves you almost as much as I do.
Lookaftereachotherandmakesurehedoesn'tdrownatthebottomofabottleofwhiskey.

Life can be shit, but it's also short and it goes on. The sun will still rise in the east

tomorrowandsetinthewest,soIasknothingofyouexceptthis:don’tdiewithme.Live.Be
happy. Love again because you deserve to experience as much love as this life has to give. I
onlywishIcouldhavebeentheonetogiveittoyou.

Youaremyworld,myheart.Whateverlaysbeyondthislife,atleastIcanresteasyknowing

thatallthebestpiecesofmearerighthere,withyou.Ifyoujustcloseyoureyes,you’llfeelme
righttherewithyou.Iloveyouinawaythattranscendslifeanddeath.

Thisisn'tgoodbye,onlyseeyoulater.
Lovealways,
Connor

HIS

MUST

THE

HUNDREDTH

TIME

I’

READ

ONNOR

’

GRAVE

LETTER

. I

’

STRANGE

THING

—

READING

HIS

words and knowing he’s never coming home. It still doesn’t feel real, more like a movie or someone
else’slife.

Butit’snot.Attheageoftwenty-five,Iamawidow.
The car hits a pothole, the sudden movement jostling the tears free that have been swimming in my

eyes.

“Poppy,”Hoperubsherhandovermyshoulder.Ilookupandcatchhergazedrifttotheletterinmy

hand.Idon’tsayanything,justfoldtheletterupandshoveitinsidemypurse.Shetrailsherhanddownmy
armbeforeshegrabsholdofmyhand,lacingherfingersbetweenmine.“Idon’t…”shetakesabreath.“I
don’tknowwhattodotomakethiseasierforyou.”

“Nothing.”
“Iloveyou,Poppy.Likeasister.”
IforceasmileasIfiddlewiththewornfriendshipbraceletonmywrist.“Iknow,”Isay.“Iloveyou,

too.”

Death,thoughapartoflife,isahardthingtodealwith.Peopleontheoutside,theyfeelsorryforyou.

Theywanttomakeitbetter.Buttheydon’tunderstand.Whenyoulosesomeoneyoulove,someonethatis
a part of your life—everything changes. Your world morphs and reshapes. Darkness. You become
shroudedinanimpenetrabledarkness.Shockandangerripplethroughyoulikeroguewaves.Andthen,
eventually,yougrownumb.That’ssurvivalinstinctkickingin,Ibelieve.Becausewhatpersoncanlive
withthetypeofpaindeathbrings?Andthat’swhereI’mat.Tryingtosurvive.Numb…

The car rolls to a stop and I take a breath as I peer through the window. Behind the church, the

tombstones loom over the landscape. The trees all seem to sag. The sky seems darker. Cemeteries, no
matterwheretheyare,arealwayssosullen.

ThedriveropensthedoorandHopeclimbsout,turningaroundtolendmeherhand.Itakeitatthe

sametimeasIdrawinadeepbreath.

This part…this last bit of the goodbye…it’s always the hardest. I was ten when my mother passed

away.Watchingthemlowerhercasketintothegroundbrokeme.Icried.IpleadedwithGodasIburied
myfaceinmyfather’ssuitjacket.WhenmyNandied,itwasBrandonwhoseshoulderIcriedon.And
whenmyfatherleftthisearth,IleanedonConnor.Andnow,everylastoneofthosepeoplearegone.

ThehingestotheoldwoodendoorgroanwhenHopepullsitopen.Theinsideofthehugecathedralis

darkandcold.Steppingoverthatthresholdislikesteppingbackintimetwo-hundredyears.Thestained
glass, the wooden pews, the massive cast iron chandelier. And there, at the front of the church, sits
Connor'scasket.Mymusclestense.Myheartbangsagainstmyribcageandmystepsfalter.Hopeclutches
myarm.

"It'sokay,”shewhispers.“Doyouneedaminute?"
Ishakemyheadbecausewhydelaythis?Itwon'tbringhimback.Itwon'tchangeathing.Iwalkdown

the aisle toward the front pew, people giving me their condolences along the way. After I've taken my
seat,theprieststepstowardmeandextendshishand.Hisbrightblueeyesseemsosympathetic.“Sosorry
foryourloss,Mrs.Blaine.ConnorwasagreatmanofGod.”

I swallow. I fight those tears because I will not seem weak to these people. Death is a part of life

—butthistimeithasdestroyedmine.“Thankyou,FatherPerry,”Isay.

Andthefuneralbegins.Aseriesofpoemsandblessings.Allofitabluruntilthecrowdstandsandis

directedtothecemeteryatthebackofthechurch.IwaituntileveryonehasleftbeforeIstand,takingone
lastglanceattheoakboxhisbodyrestsin.

Thecoldwindhowlsoverthehills.Thebranchestotheoaktreecreakandgroan.There’salullof

conversationfromthepeoplesurroundingthegravesite,andIfeeltheireyesonmeasHopeandImake
ourwaytothegraveside.

Iwatchthemeninuniformcartingthecasketontheirshoulders.Eachoftheirfacesunreadable.Hard.

Solemn.Hopegrabsmyhandagainandgivesmeatissue.Itakeit,keepingmyeyestrainedontheground
rightinfrontofmyfeet.

Theharnesscreakswhentheysetthecoffininitsplace.Mystomachknots.Iclosemyeyes,fightingto

bringbackamemory.AnyhappymemoryofConnor.OfBrandon,butinamomentsogriefstricken,Ifail
to find the tiniest sliver of happiness, even in my memory. The priest recites the beginning of that Irish
blessingandmyheartslowlybreaks,mychestburning,mymindbecomingcrippled.

“Donotstandatmygraveandweep,

Iamnotthere…Idonotsleep.
Iamthethousandwindsthatblow…”

Peopletossrosesontopofthecasketasitisslowlyloweredintotheearth,andIstandrighthere,atthe
edgeofConnor’sgrave,aredpoppyinmyhand.Justbeforethefirstshovelofdirtrainsdownontopof
thecoffin,Ithrowmypoppyintothegrave.

“I’llneverstoplovingyou,”Iwhisper,wipingawaythetearsasIturntoleave.
He'sgone...
HeandIboth—casualtiesofwar.

ChapterTwo

BRANDON

“Friction”–ImagineDragons

MONTHS

LATER

…

NOISE

FROM

OUTSIDE

DRIFTS

DOWN

THE

CORRIDOR

WHERE

STAND

WAITING

ROAR

THE

CROWD

THEIR

criesechofromtheconcretewallsofthebasementtothisshittypub.

Ladiesandgentleman,welcometothering,theone,theonly,Brandon‘TheBreaker’Blaine!
That’s my cue, and every time I hear it, it hits me in the chest. I can’t fight under my real name.

BrandonO’KieffediedinAfghanistanalongsidehisbestfriend,ConnorBlaine.TheBreakerBlaineisn't
real.Hedoesn’texist.Andthat'sthetwistedironyofit,becauseIshouldn’texist.Andheshould,because
thisworldisacoldandbitterplacewithouthim.

I walk through the doorway into the room filled with drunks and gamblers. They shout and wave

handfulsofcashthroughtheair.ThisisthedarkanddirtyunderbellyofLondon,wherethecorruptand
namelesscometotradepunches,todrawbloodandpurgethemselvesoftheirdemons.

Thecrowdchantsoverandover:Breaker,Breaker,Breaker.
Iignoreit.IignorethemasIduckthroughtheropesintothering,whichisnothingmorethanapitiful

square of bloodstained concrete. These people love their fighting. They long for the blood, like sharks
circlinginthewater.

Myopponentissomeblond,tattedupguyfromthenorth—I’veforgottenhisnamealready.Bouncing

ontheballsofhisfeet,hepunchestheairwithhisfist,lappingupthecheersfromthecrowd.I,onthe
otherhand,standstill,armslooseatmysideswhileIwaitforthebelltosound.

ThismomentrighthereisallIhaveanymore.It’sallI’mgoodat.AndIbothloveandhateitasa

result. I tune out the shouting and screaming, the commentators voice crackling over the microphone—
everything,untilallIcanheararemysteadybreaths,theslowthump,thump,thumpofmyheartbeating
inmychest.Izoneoutanythingthatisn’tmeandhim,becauseinthismoment,that’sallthatmatters.Right
now,nothingoutsideofthisringexists,andthatmakesitastrangekindofsalvation.

Thebelldingsandhecomesatmelikeatrain,swingingtwice.Iduck,weavingandbobbingbefore

throwing a right hook at him. My fist makes impact with his cheek with a loud smack. He recoils and
staggersbackafewsteps.Forasecond,Ithinkhemightremainonhisfeet,butthenhegoesdownlikea
sackofshit.Andhestaysdown.

Theroomexplodes,andthecommentatorstepstowardme,reachingformyarm.Ignoringhim,Iturn

andwalkstraightoutofthering,throughthedoorIcamein,andintothestorageroomthatservesasa

makeshiftchangingarea.LikeIsaid,IloveitandIhateit.Thepowerinthemomentofawinisalways
overshadowedbytheshameIfeelafterwards,theragethatIcan'tcontroleventhoughit'sasfamiliarto
measanoldfriendnowadays.Iwassupposedtobebetterthanthis.Iwassupposedtobemore.NowI’m
justaguywithnoname,draggedbackintothepitthatConnorhelpedmeclawmywayoutof.He'dbe
disappointed...

I’m unwrapping the bandages from my hands when Larry comes into the room, slamming the door

behindhim.He’sabigguy.AnAmericanVietnamWarvetwithathicksouthernaccentandabuildthat
wouldputabrickshit-housetoshame.Inkcoverseveryvisibleinchofskin.Myfavoriteofallhistattoos:
the topless hula girl smoking a joint on his right forearm. At one time in his life, Larry was a boxer,
which,Iguess,iswhyheownsthisplace.Thebar,thefightring—allofit.Istumbledinhereoneday
looking for some whiskey and a fight. I fucking got it alright. Just so happened Kyan and Finn, both
Larry’sfighters,weresittingatthebarthatnight.Itdidn'ttakemuch.Onecrosslookandwham.Iknocked
Kyan's smartass right off the stool. Even though there were two of them, I still fucking won. Instead of
kickingmeoutorhavingmearrested,Larrywelcomedmeintothefold.Hesaidhecouldseethewarstill
raginginmyeyeslikeIneverleftit.Andhe'dbefuckingright.Itrytokeeptomyselfforthemostpart.
Comein,throwafewpunches,andleave.Idon'twantorneedfriends.Ijustneedthecashinhandthese
fightsearnme.Larrythough...well,he'shardtoignore,andhekindofgrowsonyou...likeafungus.

“Yougottagivethecrowdafight!”hesays,pullingupachairandsittingbackwards,restinghisthick

armsalongtheback.

“Ifoughtdidn’tI?”Itakeoffmyshortsandpullonapairofjeans.
“Thatain’tnofight."Hisglasseyehasgonealittlecrookedandit'smakingithardformetotakehim

seriously."It'safuckin’massacre.Abeautifulfuckin’massacre.”Helaughs.

I yank a hoody over my head and stuff my fight gear back inside my bag. “I'm not here for a show,

Larry.I'mhereforthemoney,"Isay,tossingmybagovermyshoulder.IguessyoucouldsayLarrytakes
inpeoplelikehim:veterans,tormentedbytheirownmemories.Hetakesthemin,thenputstheminthat
ring.Linestheirpocketsandhisown.It'sawin-win,andnoonefightslikeamanwrappedupinhisown
personalwar.

“Getyourpantiesoutofawad,youmiserablefuck,"hesays.
Shrugging,Iturnmybacktohimandheadoutoftheroom.
"You should go drinkin'," Larry calls after me. "Go on out there and grab yourself a lady friend.

Something.Everywinnerhastocelebrate.Andyouwon,boy."

No,Ilost,alongtimeago.

ChapterThree

POPPY

“Breathe(2AM)”–AnnaNalick

MIDDAY

SUN

HIDES

BEHIND

THE

THICK

GRAY

CLOUDS

SEAGULL

FLIES

OVERHEAD

GLIDING

THE

BREEZE

THAT

’

comingofftheChannel.Ileanagainstthemetalrailingoftheferry,clutchingmysteamingcoffeeinmy
handsasmygazedropstothewater.IfallintoadazeasIwatchthefrothyfoamripplearoundthesidesof
theboat.It'sbeenyearssinceI'vebeenonthisferryheadingtoEngland.ThelasttimeIwasinLondon,I
waswithbothConnorandBrandon...

Amanbumpsintome,mumblinginaforeignlanguageashesmiles,tippinghishatatme.Icanjust

makeouttherocky,greyPortofHolyhead.FivehoursorsoandI’llbeinLondon,lookingforBrandon.
My phone rings and I pull it from my purse. Hope's name flashes on the screen, but I send the call to
voicemail.BeforeImanagetoslipthephonebackinmypurse,she'stextingme.

Whereareyou?

Poppy!

Ijustwentbyyourhouseandthere'sanevictionnotice.

CallmebackorI'llhavetheMI5afteryourarse!

Ishouldanswerhercallsortextherback,butIcan'texactlyexplaintheplaceI'minrightnow.HadItold
Hope,shewouldhavefoundsomewaytostopme.Longago.Butsometimesinlife,wealljustneedto
runaway.

AndthatisexactlywhatBrandondid.
Ten months. It's taken ten months for me to find him. Not a week after Connor's death, I received a

phonecallfromthemilitary."AnycontactwithMr.O'Kieffe?""Doyouknowwherehemaybe?""You'll
callusimmediatelyifthereisanycommunication?"

AWOL. A deserter. Brandon left Connor in that desert. In that crumpled Foxhound. He ran. I spent

weeksbouncingbetweenangeratthesituationandreliefthathewasstillalive.Iworriedaboutwherehe
was.Howhewas.

Thethingis,throughoutmylife,asIhavelosteverybitoffamilyI'vehad,ConnorandBrandonwere

myconstants.TheywerethefirstfriendsImadewhenmyfathermovedustoIrelandfromAmerica.They

areallI'veeverknownaboutlove.Andwhatpricecanyoureallyputonlove?

Ahundredthousandpounds—allofConnor'slifeinsurance—thatwastheprice.Aforeclosedhouse.

Arepossessedcar.AllIhavelefttomynameiswhat'sinthissuitcaseandathousandpoundsinthebank.
ButIwasdeterminedtofindhim.

I've only known since yesterday where he is. When the PI called me with the information, I

immediatelypackedmybagsandleft.I'mnotsurewhatI'llsaytohim.OrwhatI'lldo.

AllIknow,isthatIneedhim.Andhemust—hemustneedme.Afterall,wearealleachotherhas

now.

BARKEEP

SLIDES

ALE

ACROSS

THE

COUNTER

GRAB

IMMEDIATELY

TAKING

SWIG

PALMS

ARE

SLICKED

with sweat, my stomach in knots. He's here somewhere. I'm on edge glancing around at all the empty
faces,hopingtospotBrandon'sfamiliarfacewithinthisdrunkencrowd.

"Mymoney'sonBreaker,"someoldpikeyslursasheslapsaveryplumpmanontheback.
"Ah,ofcourseitis."Hewhistlesatoneofthewomenbehindthebar."Boyain'tlostafightyet."
Brandon"TheBreaker"Blaine.HetookConnor'slastname.I’mnotsurprisedbyanyofthisreally.

It’shometohim.Hewasraisedagypsy,andbareknucklefightingislikeariteofpassageforthem.He’s
rightbackdowntothebottomofthebarrelConnordraggedhimoutof.AndIwanttosinkrightalong
withhim…Iliftmybeerandtakeaheavygulp,watchingthetwomenastheyroundthecornerofthebar.
There'sacrazylookingmanbehindthecounter,grayponytail,tattoosallupanddownhisarm.Istrainto
hearthethreemen'sconversation.

"Hereforthefight,Larry,"theysay,astheyhandhimsomecash.
Theman,Larry,nods,smilingasheliftstheropeblockinganinconspicuouswalkwaybetweenthebar

andthehallway.Heopensadoorandthetwomendisappearbehindit.

Idowntherestofmydrink,placetheglassonthebartop,andmakemywaytothesideofthecounter

whereLarryisdryingafewmugs.

Clearingmythroat,Islideacrisptwentypoundnoteacrossthebartop."I'mhereforthefight."
The old man chuckles as he lifts his eyes to mine. "Don't know what you're on about, darlin'." His

thickAmericanaccentseemssooutofplacehere.Hesmiles.HemusttakemeforanidiotbecauseIcan
heartheshoutingfromthetopofthestairwell.Hepassesthemoneybackacrossthecounter."Goonnow
anddrinkyourbeer,wouldyou?"

"Isaid"—Ishovethemoneybacktowardhim."I'mhereforthefight."Iarchabrow,andhegrinsas

hepicksthemoneyupandshovesitinhispocket.

"Alittlethinglikeyoudon'tneedtobedowntherewithallthemsweatymen."Heleansagainstthe

counter,studyingme."Awfulbloody."Hegrimacesandshakeshishead.

"Idon'tcare."
Shrugging,hewalkstotheendofthebarandliftstherope,motioningmethrough."Don'tcomplainif

yougetbloodonyourprettydressthere."

I ignore him and open the door to the basement. The stale scent of cigarettes, beer, sweat and piss

nearly knocks my feet out from underneath me by the time I get to the third step. Shouting and clapping
echoes up the narrow stairwell, followed by the dull smacking noise of skin hitting skin. I cringe and
pauseonthelaststep.Thedoorwayistomyleft.It'sdarkenoughthatIcan'tseeanythingpastthegroupof
menloiteringatthebottomofthestairs.Itakeadeepbreath,closemyeyes,andstepdown,grabbingthe
doorframeasImakemywayintothedingyunderbellyofthepub.

Thisstuffyroomisfilledwithmen.Mostlyindirtyundershirts,cigaretteshanginglimplyfromtheir

thinlips.Pintsofaleareraisedintheair,beersloshingovertherims.Theshoutingisacontinuousroar.
Menyelling:"Knock'isteethdown,'isthroat,champ.""Kick'eminthenuts."

Aspotlightisaimedatthebackoftheroom,andoverthecrowd,Icanbarelyseetwoheadsbobbing

upanddown,circlingwhatIassumeissomemakeshiftring.Aftershovingmywaythroughthemassof
people,Istopandstandonmytiptoes.Someonebehindmestumblesandknocksmeintothemaninfront
ofme.

He turns around with his fist raised, ready to fight, until his eyes drop to me, then a gross smile

spreadsacrosshisthinlips."Ain'tyouaprettyone?"

IswallowandliftbackonmytoesasIattempttoseearoundhim.
"Wannasee,sweet’art?"heasksashemovestothesideandmotionsmeinfrontofhim.
"Oh,uh..."IglanceathimasIshuffleaheadofhim,prayinghedoesn'tgrabmyass."Thankyou."
"Anytime,sweet’art.Anytime."
Iturntofacetheringandmyheartholdsbackseveralbeatsbeforegoingintoafull-onsprint.Because

that is Brandon circling the ring. His brown hair is a sweaty mess and he's covered in blood, his fists
raisedinfrontofhisface,readytostrikeatanymoment.Evenfromhere,Icanseethosegreeneyesofhis
ashestareshisopponentdown.Myvisionblursbehindtears,mychestgrowingtight,andthen,justlike
that,ajoltofangerfiresthroughmelikeanelectricalshock.Aquicksmileflinchesoverhislipsandhe
throwsapunch,leavingtheotherguydazedforamomentbeforehefallsflatonhisface.Themeninthe
roomgocrazy,shoutingandyelling.Womenwhistle.Themanbehindmespillshisbeeronme.Ihearhim
apologize, but I don't respond because I'm staring at Brandon. The longer I watch him, the stronger the
angersimmeringinsideofmegrows.Heglancesoverthecrowd,acockysmirksetonhislipsandhis
eyeslockwithmineforafleetingmomentandhefreezes.Heseesme.Iknowhedoes.Andthen...heturns
hisbacktomeandwalksoff,likeIdon'tevenexist.

ChapterFour

BRANDON

“SuckerforPain”–Lil’WayneandWizKhalifa

HEAVY

FIST

COLLIDES

WITH

JAW

AND

SMILE

RELISHING

THE

PAIN

THAT

EXPLODES

ACROSS

FACE

Spittingamouthfulofbloodontothefloor,Islowlyliftmygazetomyopponent.Sweattricklesdownhis
browashebouncesontheballsofhisfeet.Hegrinsatthecheeringcrowdbeforehecomesatmeagain,
andmytemperriseswitheachclumsystephetakes.Helunges,butI'malloutofpatience.Iduck,then
drivemyfistintothesideofhishead.Andhegoesdownhard,hisheadcrackingagainstthebloodstained
concrete.Thecrowdroars.

Iclosemyeyes,mychestheavingasIstandhereattemptingtochaintheragepulsingthroughevery

muscle.WhenIopenmyeyes,Iturntowardstheropes,readytoclimboutofthering.Andthere,inthe
middleofalltheburlymen,standsawoman.HerdressisfartoonicetobeinThePit,andshesticksout
like a sore thumb. I hesitate as my gaze glides over her petite, curvy frame that must look phenomenal
naked.Long,chocolatewavesofhairspilloverhershoulders,andwhenIfinallymeetherface,Ifreeze.
Poppy.Poppyishere.Herfacefadeswhite,likeshe'sjustseenaghost.And,inasense,shehas.

My chest seizes and my heart sputters, the severed fragments of it pitifully attempting to pull

themselvestogether.Thosegreyeyesofherslockwithmineandathousandmemoriesflashthroughmy
mind—everysingleonerevolvingaroundConnor.

Andthathurts.Ithurtssofuckingbad.Shemightaswellhavedousedmeinpetrolandsetmeonfire

becauseIdon'twantthis.Idon'twantanyofit.

Someonemovesinfrontofme,blockingmyviewofher,andIdraginalungfulofairasifrisingfrom

thedepthsofaverydeep,verydarkblackhole.Ithrowmyselfbetweentheropesandshoulderthrough
the packed room until I'm pushing open the door that leads to the hallway. The door closes, muting the
roarofthecrowd.Theonlysoundnowisthefranticpoundingofmypulseagainstmyeardrums.Ibrace
mybackagainstthewallanddragmyhandthroughmyhair.Howthefuckdidshefindme?

Themetaldoorsuddenlyfliesopenandbangsagainsttheconcretewall.Ikeepmygazefixedstraight

ahead,tryingtoavoidthisinevitabletrainwreck.

"Brandon Patrick O’Kieffe!" Her voice echoes down the corridor, and I hiss a breath through my

teeth.Ileanmyheadagainstthewall,closemyeyes,andinhale.Ican'tdothiswithher.

Herheelsclickovertheconcretefloor,stoppingrightinfrontofme.Thatfamiliar,sweetfloralscent

of her perfume almost brings me to my knees. I don't look at her. I pretend that if I stay just like this,
maybeshe'llgoaway.There'sonlysomuchIcanhandle.Andthatlistisprettymuchlimitedtofighting,
fucking,anddrinking.

"Brandon!"ShepokesmeinthechestandIreactinstinctively,swipingherhandawayfromme.My

eyesflashopenandImeetherstartledgaze.

"You..." She takes a deep breath, and the next thing I know, her palm meets my cheek, the clap

bouncingoffthewallsandleavingasting."Ithoughtyouweredead!"

"Well,I'mnot."Ikeepmyvoicelowandfixmygazeonthewallbehindher,justaboveherhead.
"Whywouldn'tyouhavecalledme…letmeknowyouwereokay?Why,Brandon?"
Why?It'ssuchasimplequestion,andyet,ithasnoanswerbecauseIdon'thaveagoodreason,only

that I didn't want this. I didn't want to see her. "You should go, Poppy," I say coldly, feigning the
indifferenceIwishIfelt,butthetruthis:everysecondthatIstandherewithherfeelslikeasickformof
torture.

"I'mnotleaving,"shewhispers.
Idon'tsayanything.Justkeepmychintomychest,rubbingmypalmovermystingingcheek.Poppy

grabsmyface.

"Lookatme,"shesays,hatredoozingfromhertone."Fuckinglookatme."
AndIdo.Darkcircles,thatlookpermanentlyetchedintoherskin,lingerbelowhereyes.Herfacehas

sunken with weight loss and her hair is dull. It's as though everything that made Poppy, Poppy, has
withered and died, faded away. Connor would be rolling in his fucking grave. I promised him, should
anythingeverhappentohim,thatIwouldtakecareofher,butIcan'teventakecareofmyself.Theguy
thatmadethatpromisetohim—well,he'slonggone.

Poppy’seyesswellwithtears."Whywouldyouhurtmelikethat?”shesays.“Ilosthim.Ilosthim..."

Andshebreaksdown.Thosetearsspilldownherporcelainskin.Herredlipstrembleasshefightsbacka
sob."YouleftmewhenIhadnooneelse.AndIknewit..."Sheshakesherhead."Icouldfeelyouwere
alive, and had I not looked for you.” She takes a quick breath and her eyes suddenly flash with anger.
“People die of a broken heart all the time, you know, Brandon? They do and my heart is fucking
slaughtered."

Guilt consumes me, but I can't hate myself any more than I already do. If I were a better person I

wouldshoulderhergrief,butthefactis,Ilosthim.AndIcan'tseepastmyowngrief.It'stoobig,tooall
consuming.I'mdrowninginit,slowlycrumblingundertheweightofit,soIcan'tshoulderherstoo.

Shegrabsmychinandjerksitup,forcingmetolookatheragain."Say,”hergriptightens,hereyes

blazing,“somethingtome!"

"Youshouldn'thavecome,"Isay,asIsteparoundherandopenthedoorintotheshittystoreroomto

retrievemyclothes.

"What?Ishouldn'thave..."Herheelsstompoverthefloor.Shegrabsontomyshoulder,but
Idon’tbudge.IkeepmybacktoherasIshovemyshortsdownmythighs."Whateveritisyoucame

herelookingfor,”Ishrug,“youaren'tgoingtofindit."

“Brandon,Ineedtoknowwhathappened."
Istiffenandtakeadeepbreath,holdingitbeforeIslowlyreleaseit."Hedied.Ididn't."Andisn'tthat

theshittytruthofmyexistence...summedupinfourwords?

"Whydidyouleavehim?"shebreathes.
"I..." The words stick in my throat, and I want to fucking shout. I want to punch something until my

knucklesripopenandbleed,andthen,Iwanttodrownmyselfinwhiskeyinanattempttoturnmymind
offforjustonefuckingsecond."Hewasdead,"Isayonastrangledbreath."AndIlefthimbecausethere
wasnothingfuckingleft.Justbodies."Ipullonmytracksuitbottomsandwhirlaroundtofaceher."I'm
sorryaboutConnor."

"Sorry?"Hervoicecracks."That'sallIget?Sorry?"Hereyesfalltothefloorandshefidgetswitha

loosestringonherdress."Thenwhydidyouleaveme?"

"Ican'tlookback.LikeIsaid,there'snothingleftbutbodies."
Frowning, she takes my hand and rubs her thumb over my sore knuckles, and I notice the tattered

friendshipbraceletstilltiedaroundherwrist."No,I'mstillhere."

"Well, I'm not." I offer her a small smile and pull away. She needs to know I'm not her fucking

salvation.Thisisn'tthepartwherewehelpeachother.Noonecanhelpme.

Ishouldermybagandwalkthroughthedoorwithoutabackwardglance.
Running.Alwaysrunning.

THE

FUCK

DID

SHE

HAVE

TURN

HERE

WHAT

SHE

KNOWS

ALIVE

AND

SHE

KNOWS

WHAT

fucked-upsonofabitchIam.Howdoesthathelpanyone,leastofallher?IfI'mhonestwithmyself,I've
thought about contacting her a thousand times, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't bear to see my pain
reflectedinhers.IknewIwouldn'tbeabletolookatherwithoutseeingeverythingthatwe’velost.And,I
know in doing so, I let Connor down in the worst way because he loved that girl more than life itself.
Smiling,Irememberthatfirsttimeweeversawher.Evenattheageoften,PoppywasalreadyPoppy.
Thatgirlyoujustcouldn'tignorenomatterhowhardyoutried.

Conner and I are sitting on the playground playing pogs, and I'm kicking his arse. I flatten his

stackandlookup,asmuggrinplasteredallovermyface,butheisn'tevenlookingatme.He'sstaring
acrosstheplaygroundatthejunglegym.Ifollowhisgazetoagirlwithbrownhairsittingonherown.

"Shelookssad,"hesays.
"So."Ishrug."Ibeatyou."Iturnbacktohim.HegetsthatfrownonhisfaceandIsigh,becauseI

knowhe'sgoingtogooverthereandtalktothegirl."Connor,wehavetenminutesofplaytimeleft,"I
groan,lookingatmybatmanwatch.

Herollshiseyes,getsup,andwalkspastme.Iscowlathisbackashegoesovertothegirlandsits

downnexttoher.Gross.Idon'twanttoplaywithgirls.

Withahuff,Igetupandfollowhim,scuffingmyshoesonthetarmacasIdo.Herhairfallsoutof

herponytailwhenshelooksupatme.

"I'mPoppy,"shesaysinaweirdaccent,blowingabubblewithhergum.
"You'renotallowedguminschool,"Isay.Iwantgum.
Connorpunchesmeinthearm."Leaveheralone,Bran."
Shesmilesathimandhischeeksturnbrightpink."Youcanhavemygum,”shesaysshylyasshe

takesitoutofhermouth."Youhavetoputitbehindyourearforlater."Shetucksitbehindhisearand
heblushesevenmore,grinningatherasshejumpsupandskipsaway.

"Youhavegirlgerms.Gross."Istartmakingfakeheavingnoisesandpretendingtobesick,buthe

ignoresme.

LAUGH

WHEN

THINK

ABOUT

HOW

THAT

BIT

GUM

GOT

STUCK

HIS

HAIR

MANAGED

HIDE

FROM

HIS

MUM

fortwodaysuntilPoppyfinallyconvincedhimtolethercutitout.Thatbaldpatchshelefthimwithmade
itlooklikehe'dlostafightwithalawnmower.Hismumshavedallhishairoffandgroundedhim.Iwas
so pissed I'd lost my playmate, but of course he was love sick for her. And that was how he stayed,
completelyandutterlyinlovewithPoppyTurneruntilthedayhedied.

Igoupstairsandintothepub,takingaseatattheoldmahoganybar.Theentireplacesmellsofsmoke

because,despitethesmokingban,nooneinheregivesashit.Theboozeischeapandthewomeneven
moreso,butIdon'tcare.AllIneedinlifeistodrowneverythingoutandburymydickdownsomegirl's
throat.Whiskeyandpussyareoldfriends,onesIcanrelyon.

Lou,Larry'swife,slamsherpalmdownonthebarinfrontofme.She'sinhermid-fortieswithbleach

blondehairandtitssobigsheactuallyreststhemonthebar.She'salloffivefoottwo,butshescaresthe

fuckoutofme.

"Youwin,again?"sheasks,alreadypouringwhiskeyintoaglassforme.
Isnort."Ialwayswin."
Herlipskickupononeside."Sweetheart,justyouwait'tilmyZacgetshome.He'llputyouonyour

arse."

Idownthecheapwhiskey,suckingabreaththroughmyteethasitburnsitswaydownmythroat."He's

welcometotry."

Louthrowsherheadbackonacackle,swattingatmewithherdirtybar-ragbeforeshetopsoffmy

glassandstrutsawaytoserveanothercustomer.

Ahandclaspsmyshoulder."Damnwomanislikeafinewine,"Larrysayswithagrunt."Getsbetter

withage.Youjustthinktheseyoungwomenknowwhatthey’redoing.Butboy,youjustwait'tilyouhit
forty or so. Women get freaky as a pack of hyenas jacked up on some Mexican black tar heroin." He
shakeshishead."Anddon'tevergotryingthatshit.Knockyououtofyourgourdandhaveyouridinga
donkeyoutinthemiddleofthedesert..."

Larry'sthecraziestbastardI'veevercomeacross.Irubmyhandovermyface,tryingtobleachthat

mentalimagefrommymind.WhatthefuckdoIevensaytothat?"Sheuh...she'sakeeper."

"Damnskippysheis.WasenoughtomovemyassfromMississippitoLondon.Bringmebacktothe

motherland."HechucklesasIdownmydrinkandflagLouforanotherone."Hell,"Larrysays,eyeingthe
emptyglassinmyhand."What'sgotyoudrinkinglikeagoddamnone-flipperedgoldfish?"

"Youtoldmetofuckingdrink."Iraisemyglass."HereIam."
"Nah." He rubs at his glass eye, poking it and rolling it around in his socket. "Got some shit in my

damn eye hole." He shakes his head. "Something's itching your butt. What is it, boy? I reckon it's got
somethingtodowiththatprettygirlthatfollowedyououtafteryourfight.Youain'tdonegoneandgother
knockedup,haveyou?"

"No."Ifrown,staringatmyemptyglassonthebar.
Louplacestwodrinksonthecounter.Oneforme.OneforLarry.
"Well,she'sgotsomenicetitties."Hecupsapairoffakebreasts.
"She'slikemyfuckingsister,"Isay,disgustlacingmyvoice.
Larry shrugs. "Hell, where I came from, girls like that, didn't matter if they were your sister." A

pervertedgrinslinksacrosshisfaceasheslapsmeontheback.

"She'sConnor'swidow,"Iwhisper.Evenbreathinghisnamehurts,likeaknifebeingwedgedrightin

thecentreofmychest.LarryknowsallaboutConnor.Kyan,Finn,Larry,me...we'reallex-military.All
running,stillfightingawarwewishwe'dneverfuckingsignedupfor.Idon'tliketotalkaboutit,butthey
understand.They'veallseenshit,lostfriends,lostpartofwhatessentiallymakesushuman.Larrysaysa
manmustsacrificepartofhimselftosurvivewar.Ithinkhemusthavesacrificedhissanitybecausehe's
batshitcrazy.

"Aw,hell."Hehitcheshispantsbackunderhisgut."Howtheshitfiredidshefindyou?"
Ishakemyhead."Idon'tknow,butnowshe'sfuckinghereandIreallywishshewasn't."
"Godblessthelittlething.Don'tgobeinganasstoher.She'smostlikelyjustaslostasyouare,boy."

Heglancesaroundtherattybar."Where'dshegooffto?"

"Don'tknow."Ishrugandtakeagulpofwhiskey."Don'tcare.Whatevershecamelookingfor,it'slong

fuckinggone."

AheavysighslipsthroughLarry'slipsbeforehedownshisglassofbourbon.There'sagirlattheend

ofthebarshamelesslystaringatme.Smallwaist,bigtits,atonneofcleavage,andbleach-blondehair.
She's the kind of girl you only have to look at to get her on her back, and it's just what I need. Larry
followsmygaze.Heletsoutachucklewhichturnsintoahackingcough.Hepatsmeontheshoulderashe
standsandfindshiswaybehindthebar,walkingovertoLouandgropingalloverher.

GLASSES

WHISKEY

LATER

AND

THE

GUILT

GONE

VERYTHING

GONE

.I'

BLISSFULLY

NUMB

VISION

blurs in and out. Blondie is hanging off my arm, her lips leaving a trail of bright red lipstick down my
neckasshetriestokissme.Isitonthebarstoolandlethergrindalloverme,herhipsmovingintime
withthemusiccomingfromthejukebox.Damn,anyonewouldthinkthegirlisbeingpaidforit.

"Wannagetouttahere?"shepurrsagainstmyearbeforescrapingherteethovermyearlobe.
Myeyesdroptoherchestthat’sburstingoutofhertop."Sure."
She giggles and clings to my arm as we walk to the exit. The world starts to spin and I brace my

shoulderagainstthedoorwaybeforeIstepoutontothestreet.Blondietakesmyhand,draggingmedown
thealleythatrunsalongsidethebar.

SheshovesmyshoulderandIstaggerbackagainstthewall,theshadowsswallowingusassheslams

herlipsagainstmine.Shetastesofcheapwineandcigarettesmoke.Ipushherawayfromme,butshejust
goesformyneck,soIdecidetoyankhertopdownandpalmherfaketits.Moaning,shepawsatmybelt
buckleliketheholy-fucking-grailishiddeninmyjeans.ThischickisonherkneesbeforeIcanblink,her
fingersyankingatmyboxersrightbeforeherlipswraparoundmydick.There'ssomethingtobesaidfor
easygirls:theyaren'tscaredtosuckdick.

ChapterFive

POPPY

“MuddyWaters”-LP

WIND

KICKS

THE

SUDDEN

CHILL

SENDING

SHIVER

DOWN

SPINE

PULL

COAT

CLOSER

TOGETHER

AND

warm my hands with my breath. It's been nearly two hours since I left that pub. And if I had to bet, by
now, Brandon is probably slobbering drunk. I'm just waiting for him to come stumbling out of the pub
door.Ishouldjustgointhere,butIknowBrandon,andifIwanttogetmywaywithhim,Ineedhimpiss-
faceddrunk.

The street is nearly deserted, with the exception of the old men hanging out by the front of the pub,

smokingandmakingcat-callstoanygirlthatpassesby.

WhyamIdoingthis?WhatdoIexpecttogetoutofthis?TotalksomesenseintohimbecauseIneed

something,someone.Heneedssomeone.Connorwouldwantustoleanoneachother.Hewould.AndI
refusetoletBrandonpisshislifeawaylikethis,fightinginfilthybarsandprobablydrowninghimselfin
whiskeyeverynight.Thethingis.IloveBrandon,andwhetherhewantstoadmititornot,we'vebeen
boundtooneanothersincewewerekids.Knowinghe'salive,well,Ican'tjustleavehim.I'mnotthekind
ofpersonwhowillabandonsomeone.That'stheonethingConnoralwaystaughtme—us.AndIswear,I
can almost hear his voice reciting the saying he said a million times: "A friend is someone who
understandsyourpast,acceptsyouforallyourwrongs,andwhocarriesyouwhennooneelsewill.”

I'mlostinmythoughtswhenIhearthenoisefrominsidethepubspilloutontothestreet.Iglanceup

justbeforethedoortothebarswingsshut.Brandon'sstumblingaroundoutsidethepub,agigglingwoman
clutching his arm. I roll my eyes. Of course, she'd be a blonde. I stand and they disappear down an
alleyway,herannoyinglaughterbouncingoffthewallsofthebuildings.

Rollingmyeyes,IcinchmycoatasIcheckthatthestreetisfreeoftraffic,andIsprintacrosstheroad,

straighttothatalley.

I can barely make them out in the shadows, and I stop when I hear Brandon groan. "Shit, baby," he

says, and I cringe. Inhaling a deep breath, I push my shoulders back and walk right down the alley,
stoppingbehindtheblondeonherkneesinfrontofhim.

"Really?"Icrossmyarmsovermychestandcockmyhipout.Thegirl’sheadstopsbobbingandshe

glaresoverhershoulderatme.Brandonfistsherfriedhair,pullingherbacktothejobathand.

"I'mbusy,"hesays,cockingabrowandsmirking.
"SoIcansee."
"You'rewelcometowatch,butConnorwouldprobablybeatmyarseforit."Helaughs.
Heatflamesmycheeks.Myjawtenses.Thatwaslow,evenforshitfacedBrandonO’Kieffe.Iwantto

punchhim,butinstead,Iclearmythroatandwait."Iguesssincegettingtheshitbeatoutofyourfaceisn't

enough,gettingAIDSorfuckingherpesfromthisskagsoundslikeagoodideatoyou?”

The girl pulls away from him and pushes to her feet, turning to face me. She carefully wipes the

cornersofhermouthassheapproachesme.Sheraisesherhandtoslapme,butBrandoncatchesherby
thewristandshoveshertotheside.

"You can go," he dismisses her, and she flashes me a nasty glare before spinning on her heel and

stompingaway.

"Brandon,"Isigh,"putitaway."
Helaughs."Istillhaveadickthatneedssucking.Youchasedoffmywillingvolunteer."
Groaning,Igrabhimbytheear,twistingitbetweenmyfingers."Putitaway."
"Ow,fuckingshit..."Hehastilyadjustshimself,zippinghisjeans.
"Yousmelllikewhiskeyandpiss,"IsaywhenIreleasehisear.
"It'sthesmellofman,"heslurs.
"Man?"IstiflealaughbecauseI'mangrywithhimandIdon'twanthisdrunkenbraintothinkanything

otherthanthat."It'sastench,alright.”Hetripsoverhisfeet,slammingintothewall.Igrabhimandsteady
him."Comeon,"Isay,walkingtowardmycar."I'mtakingyouhome,youdrunkrat."

"Yeah,yeah."Heswatshishandthroughtheair.“Justruinallmyfuckingfun.”

RANDON

FUMBLES

WITH

THE

KEYS

DROPPING

THEM

SEVERAL

TIMES

BEFORE

SNATCH

THEM

AWAY

FROM

HIM

AND

shove them into the lock. The moment the door opens, he tumbles into the room, walking the few short
stepsittakeshimtogettothesofabeforehefallsfacefirstontoit.Hisarmhangsovertheedgeofthe
cushions,hisfingersbrushingthedirtycarpet.

I flip the switch. My jaw drops when I glance around at his living room. There must be about ten

emptybottlesofwhiskeylyingaround.Crushedbeercans.Pizzaboxeswithhalfeatencrusttossedinside.
Andthere,ontheshittyexcuseforanendtable,isaglassbowlfullofcharredweed.Tossingmyhead
back,Isigh.

"Whatinthehell,Brandon?"Isaybeneathmybreath.
Hewasalwaystheneatone,borderlineobsessive-compulsivewithcleanliness.Howhe'sabletolive

in this—I look around again, my eyes landing on the punching bag hanging in the corner of the room. I
walktowarditandpokeatitwithafinger.Itdoesn'tbudge.Thewhitematerialistatteredandtorn,splits
coveredwithsilverducttape.Andtheblood—driedbloodcoversthedamnthing.Brandon...Ifindmyself
shakingmyheadwhenIturnbacktohisnearunconsciousbodysprawledoutontherattycouch.

"Oh,fuck."Hedoesn'tmove,butIcanhearhisstomachchurningfromhere.Abruptly,hesitsupand

fallstothefloor."Fuck,"hemoansagainashestartstoslowlycrawlacrossthefloor.

"Whereareyougoing?"Ichaseafterhim,leaningdowntotryandgethimtohisfeet,butheswatsme

away.Hemakeshiswaytoatinybathroomoffthehallandusesthedoorframetohoisthimselfup.He
waversandstaggers,hishandcoveringhismouthashehurlshimselfinsideandslamsthedoor.

ThenextthingIhearisviolentheavingandcoughingfollowedbyastringofprofanities.AndhereI

stand,inhishallway,asthesmellofstomachbileandwhiskeyfloatoutfrombeneaththedoor.Theawful
retchingnoisefallssilent.Thetoiletflushesandthedoorswingsopen.Brandonstandsinthedoorway,
eyesbloodshot,faceflushed.Herollshiseyes,grunts,andthenstumblesdownthehalltoanotherroom.

"Brandon..."
Again,heswatshishandthroughtheairandgrunts.Ifollowhimintothebedroom.Heyankshisshirt

overhishead,tossesittothefloor,thenflopsdownonhisbackonthericketymattress.

"I'mfine,"hemanages.
"Yeah,Ijust..."Isitontheedgeofthebed,runningmyfingersthroughhisthickhair.I’vemissedhim

somuch."Ijust.I'mgladtoseeyou.NomatterhowpissedIamatyou,Icouldn'tbehappierthatyou're

alive."

"AndIdidn't—"hehiccups—"didn'tmeanit,"hesayscryptically.
"Iknow."
"Youalwaysknow,possum."
Andheregothetears.Iturnawayfromhimtowipethemfrommyface.
"Youstillhatemecallingyouthat?"Heswatsatmyhair.
Ishrug.
"Alwayshatedit,whichiswhyIcalledyouthat...I…"Andnowhe'ssnoring.Outcold.
Istareathimthroughthedark,watchinghisbackriseandfallindeepswells.Hisfaceisbruised,his

bottomlipsplitfromthefight.AndIknow,asIglancearoundthisroom,he'sbroken.He'shurt.Andthe
onethingaboutBrandon:hewasalwaysoutatthefirstthoughtofgettinghurt.Iguessthisisnodifferent.
Connor was his brother, not by blood, but by choice, and if you really think about it, that has to mean
more.Theychosetocarryeachother.

"Possum,"hegrumblesthroughajaggedbreath,stillasleep.
Ican’thelpbuttoclosemyeyesandrememberthefirsttimehecalledmethat:
Myeyesaretrainedonmybloodyknee.Brandonstopswalkingforasecondandtakesabreath.

"Howmuchdoyouweighanyway?DearGod,"hesays,adjustingmeonhisback."I'mgonnahaveto
carryyoutherestofthewayhome,aren'tI?"

Isniffleinresponseandhesighs.
"Fine,butItoldyou,youweregoingtoofast.Youcan'tkeepupwiththosebigkids."
"Theymadefunofme."
"Iknow,Iknow."
Iwigglemyleg,tryingtomakethatstingingfeelinggoawayandBrandonshakeshishead.
"I'mgonnahavebloodalloverme,"hehuffs.
"ShouldhaveletConnorcarrymethen,"Isay.
"Oh, he'd just drop you halfway up the hill. He's too fat." Brandon's winded and it makes me

giggle."Whatareyoulaughingat?"

"Youprobablylooksosillywithmeonyourback."
"Yeah,justlikeapossum,aye?"Hechuckles."That'swhatI'mcallingyoufromnowon.Possum."
Iwrinklemynose."Why?Thoselittlebeastsaresougly."
"Ah, nah. They're well cute. Just like you—" He stops midsentence and I feel my cheeks blush.

BrandonO’Kieffejustcalledmecute.Itshouldn'tbotherme,but,forsomereason,itdoes.Itmakesme
proud or happy or...something. "You're just like one of 'em, hanging on my back for dear life." He
laughsagain.

"Guys.Waitup..."Connorshoutsfromthebottomofthehill,alreadyoutofbreath."Waitup..."
Brandonjerksinhissleep,startlingmeandbringingmebacktothepresent.Hisbreathinghasgrown

rapid,uneven.Hisforeheadisdottedwithsweat.Hethrowshisarmacrossthebedagainandgroans,and
that's when I see the crumpled photograph, the edge stained with what looks like blood. My heart rate
kicksupandIswallowaroundthelumpthathasnowformedinmythroat.LeaningoverBrandon,Igrab
the picture, my hands already shaking. There's a dark green tank, Brandon is sitting on the hood and
Connor’sagainsttheside,anAK-47saddledonhiship.Myhearttearsrightintwo,thesightofthetwoof
thematwardestroyingmealloveragain.AllIcanthinkaboutishowbadlyConnormusthavesuffered.
Whatitmusthavefeltliketohaveyourlifecometosuchabrutalenddoingtheonethingyouloved.And
then,IwonderwhatthatmusthavedonetoBrandonbecause,unlikeme,hedoesn'thavetowonderwhatit
waslike.Hedoesn'thavetheluxuryofprotectinghimselffromthegrimdetailsbecausehelivedthat.

ChapterSix

BRANDON

“HoldMeDown”-Halsey

STARING

DOWN

THE

SCOPE

RIFLE

AND

DESPITE

NEEDING

SLOW

HEART

RATE

GET

THE

SHOT

slamsagainstmyribslikeafreighttrainhammeringalongthetracks.Myarmshakesslightly.Istill
whenIfeelahandonmyshoulder.

"Breathe,Bran.Justtakeabreath,"Connorsays.
"Ican'tdothis."Isay,meetinghisdeepbrowneyes,sosteady,socalm.
"Thisiswar,Bran.Thoseguys—"hepointstowardsthederelictfactorybuildingthatourunitis

surrounding,"theywillkillhundreds,ifnotthousands.Theywouldblowupkidsinthenameoftheir
cause.Thisiswar,andinwar,therearealwayscasualties.Thisdoesn'tmakeyouamonster."Andit
reallyisthatsimpletohim,rightandwrong,goodandbad.

So,Ipickmyrifleup,staredownthesights,andIpullthetrigger,watchingasthebullettearsa

holestraightthroughthechestoftheelderlywomanthattheenemyisusingasabodyshield.Iwas
aimingforhershoulder.Ididn'twanttokillher,butIdidandthatdoesmakemeamonster.Ijustlosta
littlebitofmysoul.

Ijoltawake,pitchinguprightanddraggingagaspingbreathintomylungs.Thesheetsbeneathme,as

they are every night, are drenched with sweat. Something brushes my arm, and I instinctively lash out,
slammingmypalmagainstsomethingwarmandsoft.Whenmymindfinallyblinksbackintofocus,I'mon
my knees, hovering over Poppy's small body with my forearm pressed over her throat, pinning her,
chokingher.Shestaresupatme,hereyeswideasherbottomliptrembles.Thisisnotwar.Sheisnotthe
enemy...realitysetsinandIpanic,scramblingawayfromhertotheedgeofthebed.Isitupandturnmy
backtoherasIdragahandthroughmyhairandtrytoforcemyheartratetoslow.Sheshouldn'tbehere,
let alone in my bed. When did that even happen? I can't help but think of Connor. He was always the
goodone.HemarriedPoppywhentheywereonlytwenty-oneandonlyeversleptwithonegirluntilthe
dayhedied.Helovedthatgirlthewayyouseeinfuckingmovies.

Meontheotherhand—Iwasthebadboy,thetrainwreck,andthepairofthemwereallthatkeptme

onthetracksmovingforward.I'mnothingmorethanburningwreckagenow,andPoppyisstandingfartoo
closetotheflames.Ididn'tfuckingaskherto,though.Itoldhertoleave.

Pushingtomyfeet,Ithrowaglanceatherovermyshoulder."Youneedtogo,"Isaythroughclenched

teeth.I'mangryatmyself.I'mangryather.I'mangryatthewholeworldforfuckingmeinthearsesodamn
hard.

"Brandon,I—"
"Fuckinggo,Poppy!"Iroar,barelyholdingontoanysemblanceofcontrol.

Ihearthespringstothemattresscreakwhenshestands."I'mnotleaving.Connortoldmetolookafter

you,damnit."

IsqueezemyeyesshutandreleasearaggedbreathasIswallowaroundthelumpinmythroat."You

can'tcarryme,Poppy.Ican'tlookatyou,"Iwhisper."Ilookatyou,andallIseeishim."

Herchindropstoherchestandshefidgetswiththehemofhershirt."AndwhenIlookatyou,allIsee

ishim,too,butIdon'twanttoletthatgo.IcanfeelhimwhenI'mwithyou..."

"He'sfuckingdead.I'veletgo.Soshouldyou."Igetupandwalkoutoftheroom,everythinginme

crumbling.Connorwouldhatemeforthis.HurtingPoppyistheonlythingIcouldpossiblydothatwould
makeConnorhateme.

"Fuckyou,BrandonO’Kieffe,"sheshouts,hervoiceshaking.Afewsecondslater,Ihearherbreak

downintosobs.

I can't take this shit, her grief, mine, the guilt, the fucking tragedy of it all. I need a drink. And I'm

practicallyrunningforthekitchen,tearingthecabinetopen.Igrabthebottleofwhiskeyandpressittomy
lips,swallowinggulpaftergulp,findingreliefasthehotliquidburnsitswaydownmythroatandsettles
inmystomach.

Poppystormsintothekitchenafterme.Idon'tpayheranymind,justkeepdrinkingandwatchingthe

bubblesfloattheirwayuptheneckofthebottle.

"Youcanbeasmeanasyouwant,"shesays,asshesnatchesthebottlefromme.Liquidspillsallover

thefrontofmyshirt,somesplashestothefloor."ButI'mnotgoinganywhere."Igotograbthebottlefrom
her,andshesmashesitagainstthewall.Glassgoeseverywhere.Whiskey'srunningdownthedamnwall.

That anger begins to bubble beneath the surface and I snap, charging her and backing her into the

whiskeysoakedwall.Glasscracksbeneathmybarefeet,cuttingintomyskin,butIrelishinit.Painisthe
onlythingthatremindsmeI'malive.

Herdelicatebreathsblowacrossmyface.Thosestormygreyeyeslockwithmine,sodamninnocent

andgood.

"Whatthehelldoyouwantfromme?"Ishout.Shestandsstockstill,herarmsrigidathersides."You

wantmetofuckingsaveyou,huh,Poppy?"Ilaughasmygriponhershoulderstighten.

Hereyesfluttershut,tearscollectingonherlashline."No,”shesays.“IthinkI'mtheonewhoneeds

tosaveyou."

"Idon'tneedsaving,poss."Ismirk."Thedevillooksafterhisown,andI'mfarbeyondredemption."I

letgoofherandtakeastepback,leaningagainstthecounter.Ijustwanthertoleave.Herbeinghereis
toopainful.Tooreal.Toomuch.I'veacceptedmyfate,payingmywaywithdirtyfightsandlosingmyself
infastpussyandbooze.I'dalmostconvincedmyselfthatConnorneverexisted,thateverythingbeforethis
rightherewasnothingmorethanadream.Almost…

Shestaresatmeassherubsovertheredmarksmyholdleftonherarm."Thentakemedownwith

you,"shescreams,breakingandslidingdownthewalltothefloor.

Glass crunches beneath her and she buries her face in her tiny hands. The diamond on her wedding

ringglintsinthelight,andthat'slikeanothergoddamnknifeinmyheartbecauseshehasn'tlethimgo.Not
onebit.

"You'reallIhave,Brandon."Shechokesbackasob."Soifyouwanttodrinkyourselftodeath,push

meaway,whateveritisyouwanttodo—that'sfine.ButI'llberighthere.I'mnotgoinganywhere."

Ifallagainstthewall,droppingdownnexttoher,andwesitwordlessly,allowingallthepainandthe

heartbreaktoswirlbetweenus.Sheleansherheadagainstmyshoulderandcries,hersmallbodyshaking.

Theysaythepeoplewhoareleftbehindaretheoneswhosufferthemostwhenitcomestodeathand

ain't that the truth? I'd give anything to swap places with him. Anything. Poppy didn't deserve this, and
now,I'mallshehas.

Ifthereisagod,hehasasicksenseofhumour.

ChapterSeven

POPPY

“TheRealYou”–ThreeDaysGrace

MORNING

SUN

FILTERS

THROUGH

THE

SINGLE

ALUMINUM

WINDOW

INTO

THE

LIVING

ROOM

THE

DUST

CATCHING

the light. I grab the glass of water from the end table and take a sip before wiping the sweat from my
brow.Icouldn’tgotosleeplastnight.Itossedandturned,butneverfoundrest.Around4AM,Igaveup
andstartedcleaningthismessofanapartment.Therewasafilmofgrimeonthecoffeetablehalfaninch
thick,Iswear.Beerbottles,condomwrappers—atleasthe'sbeingsafe—socksandhalfsmokedjoints.
Brandon,wheredidyougo?

Ontheoutside,he'sstillBrandon,butontheinside...Idon'tevenknowthatIcansayhe'saghostof

who he once was. He's angry and volatile. All I can see in his eyes are regret and hate. Brandon hates
himself,andifhehateshimself,howamIevergoingtogettohim?

"Myfuckinghead."
I turn around to find him stumbling down the hall with his hands to his head, his shirt off. My eyes

traceoverthetattooscoveringhischestandarms,andIstoponthattattoo.Theoneonhisleftpecofa
cartoonrat.Ifightalaughatthesightofthatone,thememoryofhimandConnorfloodingmymind.

Thedoorswingsopen,ConnorandBrandonstandinginthedoorway.Theybothhavehorrendous

bagsbelowtheireyes,theirhairisdisheveled,andtheyreekoffilth."Ibizafun?"Iask,laughing.

Theybothgruntastheyshouldertheirwaythroughthedoor.
"Lookslikesomeonehadfunontheireighteenthbirthday."Ilaugh.
"Well, I did because I'm single." Brandon smirks. "But this fucker, all he did was mope about

becausehemissedyou."

ConnorpunchesBrandonintheshoulder,thensmilesatme."Ididmissyou."Hegrabsmebythe

waist,pullingmetohimandgivingmeatenderkiss."Andwehaveasurpriseforyou."

HestepsbackandglancesatBrandon.Theynodateachother,widegrinscoveringtheirfacesas

theylifttheirshirtsup.MyjawdropswhenIseetheredskinsurroundingatattooofa....

"Rat?Youtwogotarattattooedonyourchests?Why?"
Connor'sbrowfurrowsashestaresdownattheink."It'snotarat."
"Yea, Poss. It's a possum," Brandon says. "In honour of you." He looks down at Connor's chest,

thendownathisownbeforehisgazefliesuptome."Don'titlooklikeapossumtoyou?"

"Uh,no.Itlookslikeacartoonratstoodonitshead."Icovermymouthtostiflethelaugh,butit's

useless.

Connor'sgazestraysfromminetoBrandon'schest."Isaypossum."
"Possum."Brandonagrees.

"AndIsayrat."
Brandon's coughing snatches me away from that bit of my past, and I find myself smiling from the

memoryofthetwoofthemtogetherlikethat.Bestfriends.Thethreeofus.

Heplaceshishandoverthetattoo,scowlingatme."Don'tstart."
AndthenIrealize,insteadoftworattattoos,there'snowonlyone.Mychestgoesalltight,mythroat

burnsfromtheurgetoscreamandcurseatGodfordoingthistome,tous..."It'sarat,"Iwhisper,tryingto
keepthetearsaway.Hopingtopickafightwithhimtochangethissombermoodthathassettledbetween
usfromthesightofthatdamnedtattoo.

"It's a possum." He shoulders past me, heading for the kitchen. My gaze trails down his back and I

notice a long, jagged scar, raised and ugly on his side. A multitude of tiny scars are scattered over his
back.Shrapnel.Andthatlumpformsinmythroat.

"Whateveryouneedtobelieve,Brandon."
Hegrabsaboxofcerealfromthecupboardandshoveshishandinside."Whythefuckdoesmyflat

looklikeMaryfuckin'Poppinshasbeeninhere?"

"Becauseitwasdisgusting.I'mworriedI'vecaughthepatitisjustfromsittinginherefortoolong."
Heshrugs."Youmightfromthatcouch."Hecocksabrowandsmirks.
Rollingmyeyes,Iwalkintothekitchen,snatchtheboxofcerealfromhim,andtossitintothetrash

can.

"Woman."Hegrowlsashewalksupbehindme.
Iturnaroundandcollidewithhisbroadchest."Thatcerealiscrap.Youdon'tneedtoeatit."
"Isthereareasonyou'restillhere?"hegrumbles."Don'tyouhavealifeorsomething?"
The sad thing is, no, I don't. Not without Connor. Not without Brandon. I shift my gaze to the floor,

staringataspotImissedwiththemop.

"Youshouldgohome."
"Ihavenowheretogo.”Ilaughbecause,nowthatIthinkaboutit,nowthatI'mstandinginthemiddle

ofhiskitchen,himobviouslywishingI'dneverfoundhim,itallseemssopathetic.Itakeabreathandlet
the shame drown me. "They'll have repossessed the house by the time I get back." I keep staring at the
circleofdirtonthefloor."Andyoudon'twantmehere..."

Ihearhisfeetshift,andInearlyjumpwhenhisknucklestrailacrossmycheek.Iliftmygazetohisand

there is nothing but pain shining through those green eyes of his. "It's not that I don't want you," he
whispers."Ijustdon'twantthememories.Wewerehappyonce,andnow—lookatus.We'renothingmore
thanemptyshells.YouremindmeofeverythingI'velost,anditfuckingbreaksmealloveragain."

Myeyesdroptothefloor.Iswallow.Ibreathe.Andthenhisfingersgripmychin,forcingmetolook

athim."Didyouhearme?”hesays.“It'snotthatIdon'twantyou."

Hismusculararmswraparoundme,huggingme,andIdotheonlythingIcaninthismoment:Iclingto

himfordearlife.Thereissomethingsofamiliar,sosafewithhim.Connorwas,nodoubt,partofmysoul,
butBrandon,he'spartofmyheart.AslongasIhavehim,I'mnotaloneandhe'snotalone.Andwhenyou
cansharesomethingashorribleasthisgriefandregretwithsomeonewhoknowsyou,thatmustbeworth
something.

"Youcanstayhere.I'llsleeponthesofa,"hemurmurs,hiswarmbreathblowingthroughthestrandsof

myhair.

"Thankyou."
"Butyoucan'tbethrowingmyCocoPopsaway."
"Youarenotlivingoffcerealandbeer."
"I'mnot."Hepullsawayfromme,thewrysmileIremembersowelltuggingathislips.
"Really?"Igotothefridge,openit,andstareatthecartonofexpiredmilkandsliceofpizzasetting

ontheshelf—noplate,nowrapping—justthepizzaontheshelf."Well,"Isaybeforeslammingthedoor

shut. "Make that cereal, beer, and pizza." I grab my keys from the counter and head to the front door.
"Comeon."

"Wherearewegoing?"
"Tothemarkettobuyadultfood.Now,getashirtonandcoverupthatrattattoo,wouldyou?"
"Fuckingrat...It'sapossum!"HestompsoffdownthecorridorandIrollmyeyes.Jesus.

HERE

BABY

CRYING

BUGGY

BEHIND

AND

RANDON

PLUGGING

HIS

EARS

SHIFTING

HIS

WEIGHT

BACK

AND

forthonhisfeet.

"Howlongdoesittakeyoutopickoutafuckingtomato?"heasks,grabbingoneofthebiggestfrom

themiddleofthepile.Severalfattomatoesrolldowntheheapontothefloorofthesupermarket.

"Thatone'snotripeenough,"Isay,snatchingitfromhimandplacingitbackontheshelf.
He grunts and walks off in the opposite direction. I shake my head, pick a few ripe tomatoes, stuff

themintothebag,andslingthemintothefrontofthecart.Bananas,apples...broccoli...Oh, he's sure to
appreciate that one... I finish loading the buggy with fresh vegetables and then go on my merry way. I
passacouplestoppedinthemiddleoftheaisle,arguingoverwhichtypeofteatopurchase.ConnorandI
usedtodothat.I'dsayTwinnings,he'dinsistonYorkshire.Iswallowthathurtdownlikeajaggedlittle
pill,clearingmythroatasIpushthecartthroughthestore,thatonedamnwheelsqueakingasIsearchfor
Brandon.

Icometothefrozenfoodsection,andthereheis,thedoortothefreezerproppedopenwithhiship,a

caseofStellabeerinhishand.

"Ahem."Istopbehindhimandhebarelyturnshishead.Hepeersinsidethecartbeforeshakinghis

head,disgustsnarlinghislip.Hepullsapizzaoutofthefreezer.

"Nopizza,"Isay."Putitback,Brandon."
He snorts. "Still bossy as fuck. Fighter's diet." He shrugs, holding up his pizza and beer before

dumpingbothintothecart.

Isigh."I'dhatetoseethestateofyourarteries."
"There'sawholehostofshitthatwillkillyoubeforeaheartattack,Poss.Life'stooshorttobeeating

shitthatlookslikeamini-fucking-tree."

AndhowdoIarguethat?

ChapterEight

BRANDON

“ThePretender”–FooFighters

HOLD

THE

LIGHTER

ABOVE

THE

SMALL

GLASS

PIPE

WATCHING

THE

FIRE

CATCHES

THE

GREEN

THE

BOWL

inhaleanddrawthepungentsmokedeepintomylungsandholdit.IcanfeelPoppy'sgazeonmefrom
acrosstheroom,butIignoreit.

"Really,Brandon?"Shehuffs."Weed?"
"BurningtheChristmastree,poss.Wantsome?"Iholdthesmolderingpipeouttowardsher.
Herbrowsknittogetherassheshakesherheadandshovesthepipebackatme."No.NoChristmas

treeforme.Thanks."There'samomentofsilencewhileItakeanotherdragfromthebowl."Whyinthe
worldareyousmokingthatcrapanyway,huh?Ihaven'tseenyousmokeweedsinceweweresixteenat
Hobbit's party and he dared you to drink the bong water. Connor told you not to, but your dumbass
wouldn'tlisten.Andwhathappened,huh?"

Iglareather,holdingmybreathandlettingtheweedslowlyseepintomylungs.Iwaitonmyheartrate

topickupandthatnumbfeelingI'mindesperateneedoftokickin.

"Youthrewup,”shesays.“Didn'tyou?Alloverme,alloverthatgirlyouweretryingtoscrew,what

washername?Betty...whatacrappyname,”sherollshereyes.“Youweresickforthreedays."

I smirk as I allow the cloud of smoke to billow from my lips. "This sure as shit isn't bong water."

Coughing,Igrin."Thiswillmakeyouforgetallyourtroubles."

Poppyjustshakesherheadatme,and,forasplitsecond,Ifeelabitofshame,butIbrushthatoff.

Poppy always did have this way of making me feel guilty, and now more than ever because I have so
muchtofeelguiltyfor.Andthat’swhyit'sbestnottofeelanything.

I'mblissfullyfuckingnumbwhenthefrontdoorclicksopenandKyan,oneoftheguysfromthefight

ring, walks in. I frown at him. "Fucking knock, you prick." His dirty blond hair is dragged into a
haphazard man bun and his eyes are blood shot. I'd put money on the fact that he rolled out of bed
sometimeinthelasthour.

Hegrins."You'renormallytoopissedtogetupandanswer,sowhybother?"Hiseyesstraydownto

theburningpipeinmyhand.Heholdshispalmout,jerkinghischinup.

Ipasshimthepipe.Hisheavilytattooedfingersclasptheglassashebringsittohislips.Hepuffsand

puffs,holdingthesmokein,hischeeksgrowingred.Poppymakessomenoiseinthekitchenandhisgaze
dartsovertoher,cheeksstillpuffedoutashiseyesworkoverherbody.

Coughing,heblowsthesmokeoutandnodstowardthekitchen."Well,hellothere."Hestaresather

withallthesubtletyofafuckingbrick.Kyanisadog.Pussy,booze,blow,andfightingareallheknows.
Wedon'ttalkallthatmuch,otherthanwhenLarrysendshimoverheretosobermeupforafight.Imake

himalotofmoney.Can'thavehisprizefighterdownandout.

Poppyfoldsherarmsoverherchest."I'msorry…youare?"
"Well,I'mKyanBrooks,treacle."Ohgod,he'spullingouttreacle?Hereachesforherhand,butshe

yanks it away. "You down for seconds? I'll take you out for dinner and everything." He glances in my
direction,smirking."AndI'lldoyoubetterthanthatoneandhispermanentweeddick."

"Um, no thanks. As charming as that sounds," Poppy's gaze strays over to me, "I think I'll have to

pass."

"Ah, you're breaking my heart." He grins, clutching at his chest. "You be sure to call me when you

changeyourmind."

"Shedoesn'twantyourfuckingchlamydia-riddleddick."Ishakemyheadandclearmythroat."Thisis

Poppy.She's...afriend."

Poppylookspissed.Kyanlooksconfused.
"Ifyouknowhername,"hesays"doesthatmeanyoudidn'tfuckher?"
"OhmyGod."Poppywrinkleshernose."No."
"No fuck zone," I say, pointing at Poppy while eyeing Kyan. I don't miss the way that fucker is

dragginghiseyesoverherandIdon'tlikeit."Repeatafterme:nofuckzone."

"Yeah, yeah.” Sighing, he snaps his gaze back to mine. “Just checking you're alive." He shakes his

headandturnsaway."I'mgoingdowntothepub.One-eyedLarrywantsyoudownthereinahalfhour."
HegivesPoppyanotherquickonceover."Youshouldcomedownandwatchthefight.I'llintroduceyou
toMadameWrinkles."

"I'msorry,who?"
Itossmyheadbackonagroan.
"MadameWrinkles,"hesaysagain."She'sthebaldpussyLarrykeepsbehindthebar.Youain'tseen

heryethaveyou?"

"Oh,fortheloveof..."Poppytossesherhandsupintheair.
"It'safuckinghairlesscat,"Isay."Headoptedit."
"Yeah,becausehesaiditlookslikeanoldman'sballbag,"Kyansayswithalaugh.
"Alright,”Ipointangrilyatthedoor,“out.Fuckoff."Igetupandopenthedoor,shovinghimthrough

andlockingthedeadboltbehindhim.

"Well,heseemsdelightful."Poppyeyesthedoorbeforeshereleasesalongsigh."Brandon,whatare

youdoingherewiththesepeople?"

"Rightnow?I'mgettingstoned."
Shehuffs."Asidefromtheobvious,whatareyoudoingwithyourlife?"
I reach for the pipe on the table again, but she snatches it away, tucking it behind her back. Her

judgementpissesmeoffandmytemperspikes."Whatareyoudoingwithyourlife?"Iask,glaringather.
Shedoesn’tsayaword,simplydropshergazetothefloor."Ididn'tfuckingaskyoutocomehere.You
wanttostay,stay,butI'mnotlookingforamother.Andbytheway,you'renotcomingtomyfight."

"Oh,soyouthinkyoucantellmewhatIcanandcan'tdo?"
Ismirk,leaningclosertoheruntilI'minherface."Youwon'tlastfiveminutesinthere,”Inarrowmy

gaze,“princess."

"Iwasjustfinetheothernight,asshole."Shesmiles."Kyanaskedmetocomeanyways,notyou.I'll

gotoseehim."Shelookswellpleasedwithherself,smilingandpoppingherhiptotheside.

"You'renotfuckinggoing!"Ishout.Sheflinchesawayfromme.
Iclenchandreleasemyfists,tryingtogetaholdonmytemper.Theweedusuallynumbsit,keepsit

lockeddown,butfuckifshedoesn’tbringitrighttothesurfaceagain.

"I'lldowhateverIdamnwellplease.Aguywho'sfightinginashittybarbasementreallyhasnoright

to tell me what I ought to be doing, now does he?" She turns around, storming to the front door and

slammingitshutbehindher.

"Fuck!"Ipickupabeerbottlefromthetableandthrowitatthenowcloseddoor.Itsmashesagainst

it,brownbitsofglassshootingoffineverydirection.

Shecangotothatfight,butI'msureasfucknothelpingherwhensomedudedecidestocopafeel.

She'sonherown.

Istandupandheadtothebathroom,pullingmyshirtovermyheadasIgo.Poppycanjudgemeallshe

likes.Idon'tcare.WebothknowthatthisisexactlywhereIwouldhavebeenallalongwithoutConnor.
It'salmostfittingthat,inhisabsence,Ishouldbecomeeverythinghetriedsohardtosavemefrom.That
boycouldn'thelpbutwanttobethefuckinghero.

ChapterNine

POPPY

“Team”-Lorde

CAN

BELIEVE

STANDING

HERE

THIS

BAR

SURROUNDED

THESE

FILTHY

MEN

RANDON

NOT

TOLD

couldn'tcome,Iprobablywouldn'thave.

"Ah,treacle."Someonebrushesmyhairfrommyshoulderbeforeplacingtheirhandonit."Wasitthe

lureoftheballbagcat,orjustmydashinggoodlooks?"

IturnjustasKyanstepsupbesideme.He'scleanedhimselfupfromearlier,hisblondhairistwisted

intoamessybun,thescruffonhisfaceshavedintocleanlines.Hesmilesatmeandthosedeepblueeyes
ofhislockwithmine.

"Um,sure."IglancedownatthelowcutofhisV-neckshirt,atthehodgepodgeoftattooscoveringhis

skin."Thecat..."

"Yep.Thepuuusssyycat,"helaughsasheliftsabeertohislips."Well,"hegrabsmebythewaistand

tugsmefrommyspotinfrontofthebar."Comeonthen."

Reluctantly,Ifollowhimthroughthecrowdedroomtothesideofthebar.Hehopsoverthecounter,

thenliftsthesidebarallowingmethrough."Shouldwereally..."Istartandheshakeshishead.

"Ah, Larry doesn't give a shit if we're back here. Not like you'll be necking back his liquor or

anything."Hemotionswithhishandformetofollowhimbeforehesquatsinfrontofacooler."Comeon
now,youlittlescroate."Iwatchasheshoveshishandbetweentheshelfandthecooler.There'sahissand
atiny,fleshcoloredpawswatsathimfromthecrevice,catchinghishand.Heyankshisarmback,biting
downonhislip."Youlittlefucker."Hereachesinagain,thistimedraggingthecatoutbythenapeofits
neck.Andit'sanuglyanimal.Fat.Pink,wrinkledskin,bulgingblueeyes,andapinkrhinestonecollar.

"Aw,don'thurtit,"Isay,hurryingnexttohimandreachingforit.
"I'mnothurtingit.It'showtheyliketobecartedaround,liketheirmumsdid,youknow?"
Kyanisrougharoundtheedges,butthere'ssomethingabouthimthat'sendearing.Itakethebundleof

fleshandcradleitinmyarms.Purring,MadameWrinklesstaresupatmewithherhugeyelloweyes."So,
thecatliveshere.”Isay.“Inthebar?"

"Yep."Heleansagainstthecounter,inspectingthescratchonhishand.
"I'msureshehatesthat."
"Ah,thelittlethinglikesit.Oncethecrowdgetsreallythickinhere,shecomeswaddlingout,usually

perchesupthereonthecounter."Hepointstotheendofthebarwhereatattered,pinktowelislaidout.
"Shelikesthedrunksbecausetheypether."

Inod,scratchingoverhersmoothside.Kyanstaresatmewithanunnervingsmirktwistingoverhis

lips,andIdecideit'sbestifIjuststareatthecat.So,Ido.

"Whatthehellyougotagirlbackherefor,boy?Huh?"Ideep,twangyAmericanaccentfiltersthrough

theairandthecatjumpsoutofmyarms,scurryingbackbehindthecounter.

"He was showing me the cat." I turn around and smile, unintentionally shrinking away from the

massiveoldman.Oneofhiseyesisfoggyandaimedintheoppositedirectionoftheother,anditisso
hardnottostareatit.

"MadameWrinkles?"Hechuckles."She'smylittlebaby."Heclickshistongue,callingthecatover.I

watchherslinkoutfromthecrevice,rubbingagainstthecounterbeforetrottingovertotheoldman.

"Havenwouldn'tlikethatmuch,"Kyansays."Shehatesthecat."
"Ah,Havenjustlikestopretendshe'sabadass.She'sgottoomuchofthatfeistinessfromhermother."

Themanglancesbackatme."I'mLarry."Hestretcheshisarmsout."Lordofthisherebar.Andasafather
of a girl close enough to your age, let me tell you, that one," he winks with his good eye and points at
Kyan,"Heain'tworthapileofshit.You'remorelikelytogetathree-leggedmidgettowin‘StrictlyCome
Dancing’thangetthatboytofallinlovewithyou."

"Oh,fuckoffoldman."
Larry swats his hand through the air. "You fuck off. Now, you gonna be a proper gentleman and

introducemetothislovelygirlornot?"

"ThisisPoppy.She'sBrandon's..."Hisbrowscrunches."Something."
"Ah,soyou'rePoppythen."Larrysmilesandscratcheshishandoverhisstubble.
Great, who knows what Brandon has said about me to this old man. He throws an arm around me,

escortingmetothesideofthebar."Now,youwantoneofthemfroo-frooprissydrinks?SexontheBeach
ormaybeaCosmo?"

Ishakemyhead."Ireallydon't..."Buthe'salreadygrabbedabottleofvodkaandstartedpouring.
"Now, Brandon. He's um..." He takes another bottle from the shelf, pulls the stopper, and gives it a

goodsniff."Hey,Lou,"heshouts."Lou,doesGrenadinegobad?"

"What?"Abanshee-likescreechcomesrattlingaroundthebar."Whatkindadumbquestionisthat?"
"Hell,woman,Ijustdon'twanttokillthisgirlKyan'sgotbehindthebar."
"Girl?"Ashort,curvywomancomesstompingaroundthecorner,bartowelinhand."Noitdon'tgo

bad you idiot, and honey," she glances from me to Kyan, "that one there's a case of the clap waiting to
happen.Stayawayfromhim."Shesmiles.

Kyantosseshishandsup."WhatthehellhaveIdonetoyoupeopletomakeyousofuckingmean?"
"She's Brandon's friend. Poppy," Larry says to Lou. Lou's face goes all soft and sympathetic. "Oh,

honey."ShesnatchesthebottleofGrenadinefromLarryandnudgeshimoutofthewaywithherhipasshe
startspouring.Shehandsmethedrinkbeforepattingmeontheback."It'sonthehouse."

"Thankyou,"Isay,holdingthedrinkinmyhands.
"Larry,youthinkyoucouldstoprunningyourmouthandgetthecaseofalefromtheback?"
Hegrunts,eyeingherasshewalksoff."Well,"hesays,followingLououtfrombehindthebar."Itwas

nicetomeetyou.I'msureI'llseeyouaround."Andhedisappearsaroundthecorner.

IglanceupatKyanwhoshrugsashegrabsabeerfromthecooler,Hepopsthetopandwemakeour

waydowntothebasement,claimingaspotatthefrontofthering.

Thecrowdgrowsthickerbythesecond.There'sthelowlullofconversation,theoccasionalhacking

coughfromsomemaninthecorner,andacloudofsmokefillstheroom.Iglanceacrosstheringandthere,
inthebackbytheexitdoor,standsBrandon,hiseyesgluedonme.

He shoves people out of the way as he stalks toward me like a predator. The closer he comes; I

realize he's not paying me attention. His gaze is locked on Kyan. Brandon's jaw twitches, his eyes
swirlingwithangerashegrabsKyanbythefrontofhisshirtandyankshimup,bringingtheirfacesinches
apart,but…Kyanlooksunfazedbyanyofit.

"YoubroughtherintothemiddleofThePit?!"Brandonsnarlsinhisface.

"Shewantedtocome."
"Ifshegetshurt,I'mgoingtopersonallytearyouanewarsehole."
KyanrollshiseyesandlightlyshovesagainstBrandon'schest,breakingfromhishold."Fine.Nowgo

fight.I'mputtingmoneyonyou,youpsychoticbastard."Helaughs.

Brandon spares me the briefest of glances before he turns back to head to the ring. The second he

stepsbetweenthoseropes,themengocrazy,thewomengomad,screamingandwhistling.Amiddle-aged
woman standing on the other side of me claps, her exaggerated movements causing ash to fall from the
cigarettehangingfromherpinklips.

"He'smyfavoriteone,”shesaysandwinksatme.“I'ddosomedirtythingstothatboy."Shetakesa

dragfromhercigaretteandblowsthesmokeinmyface.Icough,swattingthecloudfrommyfaceasIturn
backtowardthering.

ThelightsbounceoffBrandon'sbarechest,shadowssettlingintheridgesofhismuscles.AndIcan

absoletlyseewhythewomengonutsoverhim.Histattoos,themuscles—everythingabouthimscreams
badandwrong.Andisn'tthatwhatmostwomencrave—aguytheyknowisnogoodforthem?Atleast,
that'swhatitwasformeatfirst.BrandonO'Kiefewasmybestfriendgrowingup,but,atonepoint,he
wasalsomyobsession.IwatchhimandIcan’thelpbutrecallwhatitwaslikewhenwewereyounger,
whenitwassomuchsimpler…

"Wearen'tgoingtogetcaught,"Brandongroansaswestepuptothefrontdoor.
"Connorsaidhiscousinwenttojailforunderagedrinking."
"Yeah,well."Brandonringsthedoorbell."Ilovehimandall,butthatBlainefamily’sabunchof

pussies.AndDarrengotarrestedbecausehehadweedonhim.We..."heputshisarmaroundmeandI
can'thelpbuttopullhisscentdeepinsidemylungs,"arenotgoingtojail."

Thedooropenstoloudmusicandalivingroompackedfullofpeople.Nosoonerhavewestepped

insidethanwe'vehaddrinksshovedinourfaces.Iswear,allthegirlsstaremedown.Theyallhateme
because I'm so close to Brandon. And every one of them wants him. Brandon takes his beer and we
toast."Togettingdrunkandhavingfun."

Ismile,mygazeveeringdowntohislipsbeforeInervouslyglanceaway.
"Hey,"Brandonsaysashetakeshisarmawayfrommyshoulders."I'llbebackinjustasecond,I

just,uh,"Iglanceupathimandcatchhimsmilingatsomeoneacrosstheroom."Gottogosayheyto
someone."

I nod, but he's already halfway across the room, making a bee-line to Nieve Kirkpatrick. She's a

yearolderthanus,blonde,andtherearerumorsshehasfakeboobs.Ittakeslessthanaminutebefore
Brandonhasherpinnedagainstthewall,hismouthonhers,hishandsgropingherass.

Andnow,I'mthejealousone.ImaybeclosetoBrandon,butthethingis,it'sshitbeinghopelessly

inlovewithyourbestfriend.Aformofuttertorturehellwouldn'tevenputonaperson,I'msure...

ThebelldingsandIsnapbacktothemoment,backtothisshittybarandBrandon.
Hisgazeremainsaimedonhisopponent.Theycircleoneanother,fistsup.Theotherguythrowsthe

firstpunch,andBrandonsuddenlydropshisfists,allowingthatguytopunchhimsquareinthejaw.That
warrants a gasp from me because the Brandon I know never lets the other guy get one hit in. Never. I
watchtheguyhithimagain,andthistime,Brandonactuallysmiles.Hisgrindeepensashiseyeslockon
mejustbeforehespitsbloodfromhismouth.

Anotherpunchhitshisface.Brandonstumblesbackafewsteps,dazed.
"Whatthehellishedoing?"IshoutatKyan.
He shrugs. "Ah, he likes the way it feels to get slammed in the face a few good times. That's all,

treacle."

"Likes the way it..." Shaking my head, I swing my gaze back in the direction of the ring. Brandon's

cheek is bloody, his lip busted. The side of his face red and swelling. I hate this. I can't watch him let

someguybeattheshitoutofhim.IfI'mhonest,I'mnotevensurehowmuchofmyBrandonisleftinside,
andIdon'tknowhowtohelphim.Idon'tknowhowtounderstandhim.

Iturntoshovemywaythroughthecrowd,butKyangrabsmyhand."Whereareyougoing?"heshouts

overthenoiseofthecrowd.

"Idon'twanttowatchanymoreofthis."
Hestartsafterme."BrandonwillhavemyarseifIletyouleave."
"Justgivemeaminute."
HereluctantlynodsandIturn,forcingmywaytowardtheexitthroughthesweatymen.It'stoomuch.

PartofmebelievesBrandonislettingthatguyhithimbecauseI'mhere—justtogettome.Ihurryupthe
stairwell and push open the door to the bar. There's only a few men scattered about. Most everyone is
downstairs,andeveryfewminutesthefloorrattleswiththeshoutsandapplause.Itakeaseatatthebar
andburymyfaceinmyhands.

Why, out of all the people on the face of the earth, did God have to choose us? Why Connor? Why

Brandon?Whyme?

ThelongerIsitherefightingbackthetearsasIstaredownatthewornbartop,myself-loathingturns

toanger.IfindmyselfwantingtocurseGod,tosayscrewittoeverything.AndIguessthere'snotmuch
lefttomeanymore,either.Warandloss.Itwilldestroyapersonfromtheinsideout.

"Mymum,Lou,toldmetogiveyouthis."
Iglanceupfromthehairhanginginfrontofmyfacetoseeagirl,blondewithdoe-likegreeneyes,

pushingaglassinfrontofme.

"Can'targuewithher,"shesays."Andifyoudon'tdrinkit,she'lltakeoffencetoit."Shegiggles.“I’m

Haven,bytheway.”

"Thanks."Itakethedrinkandjustholdit.
She'sstillstandinginfrontofme,leaningacrossthebar,pickingatherBarbie-pinknails."Youdon't

look like the kind of girl who'd be hanging out here." She bites down on her lip as she fights a smile.
"Thoseones,well,they'reusuallyhereafteroneofthefighters."

"Yeah,well,Icanassureyou,I'mnot."
"Oh,Iknow.Mumtoldmeyou'reBrandon'sfriend."Sheshrugs."He'sagoodfighter."Aloudboomof

applausecomesfromthefloor."Bethejustknockedthatladsquareonhisarse."Shegrinsatme,butI
can'tforceasmileatthatcomment.Shetapsherfingersoverthecounter,and,afteranawkwardmoment
ofsilence,shewalksofftotendtoanotherpatron.

MadameWrinklescomestrottingalongthebartop,floppingherfatbellydowninfrontofme.And

hereIsit,drinkingbymyselfinabar,andpettingahairlesscat.

Amazing.

ChapterTen

BRANDON

“Bodies”–DrowningPool

WATCH

THE

GUY

GOES

DOWN

HITTING

THE

CONCRETE

HARD

BUT

NOT

ENOUGH

FIND

MYSELF

TOP

him,layingpunchafterpunchintohisfaceuntilmyknucklesripopenandmyarmsache.Someonegrabs
onto me, restraining my arms before they drag me backwards, but even then, I’m still fighting to get
another punch in. Next thing I know, I’m in a chokehold, and whoever’s got me has such a grip on my
neck,Ican'tmove,letalonebreathe.

"Don'tkillthesonofabitch,boy.Thisain'tthewar,"Larrysays."Itain'tthewar."
"Fuckingletmego."Ipantthroughclenchedteeth.
"Yougonnastopbeatingtheshitoutofhim?"Hisgriploosens."Don'tmakemechokeyouout."
Isqueezemyeyesshutforasecond,attemptingtofightbackthemadragefiringthroughmybody.I

cannotcontrolit.Icannotleashit.

"I'mfine."Igrate.
"Yousure?'CauseIletyougo,andyougoathimagain,I'lltakeyoudown.Lightsoutandall.Don't

doubtthisoldman,son."

Iforcemymusclestorelax,andLarryslowlyreleaseshisgriponmyneck.Ishoveawayfromhim,

ducking through the ropes and heading straight for the door in the corner of the room. The door slams
behindme.AndIpacebackandforth,clenchingandreleasingmyfists.Thisrage—it'slikeademonthat
livesinsideofme,andwhenitdigsitsclawsin,Ijustcan'tshakeit.Angerandviolenceconsumemeuntil
it'sallthatIam,untilallthatI'mgoodforisfightingandhurtingothers.Witharoar,Islammyfistagainst
thenearestwall.Mybonescrack.Thepainexplodesacrossmyskin.AndIwantit.Ilikeit.Ineedit.

Therumblefromthecrowdoutsidegrowslouderforasecondandthenquietsagainasthedooropens

andcloses.Iglanceuptoseeabrunetteinatinydressstandingthere,herteethsinkingintoherbottomlip.
Normally, I'd find her sexy, thinking: hell, maybe I can fuck this rage out of me. But no woman could
handle all this. I drop my head forward and focus on a spot on the floor. My pulse relentlessly pounds
against my ears, which, I guess, is why I don't hear her approach. When I feel the sudden touch of her
fingersovermychest,myhanddartsout.Igripherwristhardenoughthathereyesgowideandherlips
partonachokedbreath.

"Get.The.Fuck.Out."Isayinagrowl.
HereyeswellwithtearsbeforeIfinallyreleaseherandshescurriesfromtheroom,clutchingherarm

toherchest.Ineedtogetoutofhere.Thepeople,thenoise,thescentofblood,Ican'thandleitrightnow,
andIdefinitelycan'thandlebeingaroundPoppy.So,Igetdressedandslipoutthebackdoornexttothe
cellarwithoutspeakingtoanyone.

ChapterEleven

POPPY

“DarkTimes”–TheWeeknd,EdSheeran

YAN

HAS

THE

CAR

STOPPED

THE

END

THE

STREET

AND

I’

STARING

THROUGH

THE

WINDSHIELD

THE

ROW

townhomes.

"Ireallydon'tthinkyoushouldgobacktohisflattonight,"Kyansays.“Really.Idon't.Youcanstayat

myplace.It'sfiveminutesaway.IknowIcomeacrosslikearipeprick,butIpromise,Iwon'ttryathing."

Iturntolookathim,andduetotheworriedexpressionetchedonhisfacerightnow,Ibelievehim.
"It'sfine.Really,itis,"IsayeventhoughIdon'tknowthattobetrue.
"Look,Poppy.IknowyouknewBrandon,butthat'sjustit.Youknewhimbeforewaratehimupand

spithimout."

I stare out of the passenger side window, watching a stray cat dig through a toppled over trashcan.

Knew him. Kyan is right. I don't know him anymore. In the matter of a year, I've lost all grasp of who
Brandonis.

"Treacle."Kyangentlygrabsmyface,turningmyfacetowardhim."You'venotacluewhatwe'veseen

—meandhim.Itain'tsomethingyouseeinafilm.Themediamakesitalltragic,buthonestly,thereain'ta
wordthatcantouchwhatwaris.Fuckin'hellistheclosestyoucancometoit."Hereleasesasigh."And
rightnow,youdon'twanttogodancingwiththedevil."

Istareathim."It'sfine."
Shrugging,heturnsthecardowntheroadandletsmeoutinfrontofBrandon'sflat.
"Don'ttakeanyshitfromhim."
Iwavehimoff,andthecarsputtersdownthestreetasIapproachtheapartment.
IcanhearBrandongoingatthepunchingbagbeforeIopenthedoor.Thesecondthedooropens,he

glancesoverhisshoulder.Hisjawisswollen.Bloodcoatshisknuckles.Sweatcoverseveryinchofhis
barechest.Hegivesmeacoldstarebeforegivingonelastpunchtothebag,leavingabloodymarkonthe
sideofit.Heturnsaway,snatchesthebottleofwhiskeyfromthecoffeetable,anddisappearsdownthe
hallway.

The bathroom door slams shut with such force the old windows in the living room rattle. Moments

later,theshowercutsonandItakeaseatonthecouch.

He'slost.IknowitbecauseIseeitinhiseyes.IknowitbecauseIamtoo.Griefdoesfunnythingsto

people. And it would seem I'd know how to handle this with Brandon because we've lost the same
person, but, I have no idea where to begin. His demons are so much more than mine, one's I couldn't
possibly hope to ever understand. And when a person has no one to understand them, they must feel so
alone.

Ileanbackonthecouchandclosemyeyes.Weshouldbeabletounderstandoneanother.Wealways

have,butthewar...it'slikeatoxinstillcoursingthroughhisveins,feedinghisangerandguilt.

AndpartofmefeelslikeallI'mdoingismakingitworse.Selfishly,Idon'tcarebecauseIdon'twant

tolosethispartofmylife.Butthen,theotherpartofmethinksmaybeIshouldlethimbe,maybeIshould
justlethimkeeprunning.Afterall,whoamItomakehimfacereality?

BEEN

THE

SHOWER

FOR

NEARLY

HALF

HOUR

AND

MIND

STARTS

GET

THE

BETTER

. T

HOSE

puncheshetookwerehard.Whatifhe'sgotaconcussion?Whatifhe'sdrankhimselfintoastuporandis
passedout,facedowninthetub?

I push up from the couch and make my way down the hallway, stopping in front of the door to the

bathroom.Itapoverthewood."Brandon?"

Nothing.
"Brandon,areyouokay?"
Silence.
Slowly,Itwisttheknobandopenthedoor.
Brandon'ssittingontheflooroftheshower,hisbackagainstthewall,boxingshortsstillon.Helifts

thebottleofwhiskeytohismouthandtakesagulp.Iwatchthewaterrunoverhisknuckles,washingthe
blooddownthedrain.Andhedoesn'tevenlookupatme.

"Brandon?"
Anotherswigfromthebottle.
He'ssobroken,batteredandwounded,andnotjustfromthephysicalscarsIcansee.Sighing,Isiton

theedgeofthetubandgotograbthebottle,butheyanksitaway."Givemethedamnbottlewouldyou,"I
say."I'mnotgoingtosmashitthistime."

Hisgreeneyesslowlylifttomeetmygazebeforehepassesmethebottle.Itakeit,placetherimtomy

lips, and tilt my head back. The warm whiskey heats my throat as I swallow mouthful after mouthful. I
dropthebottlelongenoughtocatchmybreath,thenturnitupagain.

Ifthisiswhatwe'vebecome,sobeit.
Neither of us utters a word, the only sound comes from the water raining down from the shower. I

handthebottlebacktohim,andwedrink.

Once the bottle is empty, I stand, my head spinning as I stagger into the hallway. I throw the bottle

downbesidethecouchbecauseIcan’tbebotheredtomakemywayintothekitchen.Sighing,Ifallback
ontothesofa,tossingmyheadbackasItrytofocusmyswimmingvision.Thedoortothebathroombangs
againstthewallandBrandoncomesstumblingdownthehall.Heslumpsagainstthelivingroomwall,his
eyelidshalfdrooped,hisshortssoakingwetandclingingtohislegs.Waterisdrippingalloverthefloor.
When he looks up at me, I notice the split on his cheek has reopened. Dark, red blood oozes down the
chiseledplanesofhisbruisedface.

Igetup,gotothefreezer,anddigaroundamongstthefrozenTVdinnerstofindanicepack.Takinga

kitchentowel,Iwrapitup.ButwhenIcomebacktothelivingroomandofferittohim,hesimplyshakes
hishead.

"Yourfacelooksawful,Brandon,"Isay,irritationleakingintomyvoice.
"Ilikeit."
"Howcanyoulikeit?"Iwhisper.Droppingbackontothesofa,Ithrowtheicepackontothecoffee

table.

"Thepain...."heslurs,stumblingfurtherintotheroom."Ilikethepain."
Butwhy?Iwanttoaskhim,butIdarenot.Mostpeoplerunfrompain,avoiditatallcosts,yet,here

he is craving it. The only thing I can think: It's his own form of punishment. But you've been punished

enoughinlife.Webothhave...

Brandon runs into the coffee table and half falls onto the couch beside me. Groaning, he lies down

nexttomeandlayshisheadonmythigh.Oneofhislargehandsreachesacrossmylapandcomestorest
onmyknee.IholdmybreathasIstaredownathim,uncertainofwhattodo.Hedragsinaheavybreath
thenrollsontohisside.

"I'm sorry, possum..." he mumbles as he grabs my hand and places it on his wet head. And in this

moment,myheartbreaksalittle.Heremindsmealltoomuchoftheboyhewasyearsagowhenhelost
hismother.Thisiswhathedid.Helaidhisheadinmylap,beggingmetorunmyfingersthroughhishair
because that's what she did when he was upset. All he wanted was that affection, to feel that kind of
unconditionallovethathadbeensobrutallytornawayfromhim.Andhereweareagain.

AllIwanttodoismakehimfeelloved.AllIwanttodoismakethepainstop.
"It'sokay."IchokeonthewordsasIbrushmyfingersthroughhisthick,damphair.
Hisfingerswraparoundmyknee,justholdingontome,clinging."Youknowit'snot."
"Okay.It'snot.Butwhatdowedo,huh?"
"Wedrinkandwetrytofuckingforget."
"Forever?"
"Untilwecan'tforgetanymore."Herollsontohisback,hisgazetouchingminebeforehefocuseson

theceiling."Andthenthedemonswillberightthere.Waitingforus."

"Aretheyevergone,Brandon?Dotheyeverleaveyoualone?"Isweepadarkcurlfromhisforehead

andhecloseshiseyes,hisbrowspinchingintoafrown.

"Every time I close my eyes, all I see is their faces," he says through clenched teeth. The comment

forceschillbumpsacrossmyskin.Istaredownathim,tryingtoformwords,butIfail."Nothingbutdeath
anddestruction,”hesays.Tearscreepfromhiseyesandrolldownhistemplesintomylap.

Thisisthepartofwarthatisleftunseen.HeandI—wearetherealityofwhatitdoestopeople,and

thereisnothingromanticaboutit.Inourcases,Idon'tbelievethereisanythingsalvageablefromit.AndI
findmyselfquestioningGodagain.Withthewhys,thehows...tryingtograspthecrueltyofitall.

"It'snotfair,”Isay.“Noneofit."Ifeellikeafoolforsayingthat,because,ofcourseit'snot.
Hiseyescloseandafewmoretearsbreakfree."Youshouldleave,poss.IdestroyeverythingItouch.

Mydadalwayssaidthedevilwouldn'tevenwantme.ThatIwasaworthlessshit."Hehuffsalaugh."Con
foundthatoutthehardway."

"I'mnotleavingyou."Angerrisesinmychest.Ihatehisfather.He'sanawfulman.Abusive,drunk.

Patheticoneverylevel."Neverleavingyou,"Irepeat.

"I'mgonnahurtyou,poss.Thisthinginsideme,Ican'tcontrolit."Hesoundssodesperatelysad,so

worn.

"Youalreadydid...."IsayitbeforeIevenrealizeit."AndI'mstillhere."
"Ibarelyevenknowmyselfanymore."Hedragsahandoverhisfaceashecloseshiseyes.
Icombmyfingersthroughhishair,fightingbackthetears.Imustbestrongrightnowforhim.When

he's weak, I must be his strength. "Neither of us are the same people." I take a breath. "So, Brandon
Blaine,whoareyouthen?"

"Idon'tknow."
"Well, when you figure it out, you just let me know." Leaning down, I press a gentle kiss to his

forehead.Hereachesupandtrailshisfingertipsalongmyjawinafeatherlighttouch."I'mjustgladIhave
whoeveryouare."

"Always,possum."Hetapsthatratonhischest."Righthere."
Ichokeonasob,coveringmymouthwithmyhand."I'llalwaysloveyou.Always.Nomatterwhoyou

are."

Hesmilesandhiseyeslullshut.Ikeepsweepingmyfingersthroughhishairuntilhepassesout.The

brokentakingcareofthebroken.

Whatapitifulmessweare.

ChapterTwelve

BRANDON

“Home”–GabrielleAplin

BLINK

EYES

OPEN

GROANING

THE

BRIGHT

MORNING

LIGHT

SCORCHES

FUCKING

RETINAS

HEAD

POUNDS

and my stomach clenches uncomfortably when I roll over. The clatter of dishes in the kitchen has me
wincing.WhenIglanceup,Poppyisleaningagainstthekitchenside,acupofcoffeeinherhand,wethair
hanginginherface.ShelooksworsethanIfeelandthat'ssayingsomething.Igettomyfeetandunsteadily
rockbackandforthforamoment.

"Ihaveaheadache,"shemumbles.
Ihaveablurredmemoryofherdrinkingwhiskeystraightfromthebottlelastnight.
"Whiskey will do that to you." I place my hand on the wall, make my way to the bathroom, and

stumbleinside,squintingagainstthesunlightasIpiss.Todayisnotgoingtobeagoodday.BythetimeI
staggerbacktothekitchen,Poppyisbentoverthecounterwithherfacerestingonheroutstretchedarms.

Ipickuphercupofcoffeeandopenthecupboard,grabbinganewbottleofwhiskey.Shedoesn'teven

liftherheadasIpourasplashintothewarm,brownliquidandtakeasip.Thiswillfixmyhead.Poppy
ontheotherhand,I'mnotsurethere'sanyfixingthat.

"Possum,whatareyoudoing?"Iaskher.Sheslowlyliftsherfacefromherarmsandstaresatme,her

eyebrowsknittedtogetherinafrown.

"Dying."
"Thisisn'tyou,Poppy.Youdon'tdothisshit."Shewasalwaysthegoodgirl,well,atleastunlessI

wasinvolved.Shewasalwaysonthispedestal,thegirlthatwasfartoogoodtobeanythingtome,but
miraculouslyshewasmybestfriend.

Shemumblessomethingbeforesnaggingmycoffeefrommeandtakingaswig.Hereyeswaterandher

lipspursetogetherbeforesheturnstothesinkandspitsitout."Whatthehell,Brandon?Whiskey?Inyour
coffee?"Placingherpalmonherforehead,sheshakesherhead."Jesus."

Isnort.
"Seriously, what are you doing? You just gonna hole up in this shitty apartment, dragging my drunk

arseoffthecoucheverynightandwatchingmefight?Thisisn'tyourworld,poss,andhe'dwantbetterfor
you."Iwantbetterforher,butwebothknowConnor'sopinionwasalwaysworthadamnsitemorethan
mine.Andreally,I'minnopositiontobetellingheranythinganyway."Sortyourshitout.Getthehouse
back."

Sheshrugs,circlingherfingeronthecounter."Idon'twantitback.Idon'twantanyofit.Surelyyou,

ofallpeople,canunderstandthat..."

I drag my hand down my face. "Well, then you sell it, you...you plan. Me, this…this is not a plan,

babe."Icanjustseeherspiralingrightondownwithme,andthetruthis,injustafewdays,I'vecometo
likeherbeinghere.Poppywasalwaysthisshinyfuckinglighttome,somethingIhadtoconsciouslystay
awayfrom.Evenatthetenderageoften,IknewI'dextinguishherifIwasn'tcareful,andbythetimeI
waseighteenshefeltlikeadamnaddiction.Justbeingaroundhermadetheworldalittlebitbrighterand
theshitabiteasiertobear.

My world is darker and shittier than it ever was before, and here she is, her light dulled but never

completelygone.Onlynow,Connorisn'theretoprotectherfromme,andIwilldestroyher.Theworst
partisthatIthinkIalreadyneedhertoomuchtodotherightthing.I'mtoofuckingselfish.

"It'stoolate,"shesays.Hereyesdrifttothefloorandhershouldersfall."Ihadanevictionnoticeon

thedoorthedayIleft."

"How?ThearmymusthavepaidoutawarpensionforCon."
Hergazeremainstrainedonthefloor."I,uh..."Sheswallowshardandtakesadeepbreath."Ispentit.

Mostofit,anyway,youknow…"

"Don't tell me you did rent-a-crowd for his funeral." I smirk. "Got him a horse drawn carriage and

unicorns?"

Shealmostlaughs."No."Hereyeslifttomine,andIseehowdestroyedsheis.
ThatfamiliarachesurfacesandIfindmyselfshufflingbacktothecabinetandreachingforthebottle

ofwhiskeytotopoffmycoffee."Youdidn'tbuyhimthatfuckingsarcophagus?"Whenwewerekids,we
learnedaboutancientEgyptandConsaidhewantedapimped-out,goldcoffinwithhisfaceonit.Life
goals.

"Godno."Andthistimeshedoeslaugh."Nothingridiculouslikethat."
"Thesuspenseiskillingmehere,poss."
"Findingyou.Ispentitfindingyou."
Myheartdrops.Istareatherforawhile,uncertainofwhatthefucktosay.She'sbrokeandhomeless

becauseofme.Shecloseshereyesandastrayteartracksdownherface,trailingoverherporcelainskin
andtouchingthecornerofherlip.Icatchitwithmythumbandcupthesideofherface.Inhalingasharp
breath,sheleansintomytouchandhereyeslockwithmine.

"YouareallIhaveleftinthisworld,Brandon."Andthat'sthesaddestthingI'veeverheard.
Shestepsclosertomeandwrapsherarmsaroundmywaist.Ipressmylipstoherforehead,inhaling

thescentofhershampoo.SheneedsmeandIneedher.It'satwistedformofco-dependency,butit'sall
wehave.

"You'rebetterthanthis,Poppy.I'llhelpyou,butIwon'twatchyounosediveintothisshitwithme."
"I'llmakeadealwithyouthen."Shesucksbackhertears."I'llgetoutofitwhenyougetoutofit."
Iinhale,holdingthatbreathdeepinsidemylungs.Ican'tagreetoit,becauseIthriveinthegutter.It's

whereIbelong."Youalwaysweremanipulative,"Isay,smilingasIstepawayfromher.Thetornlookon
herfacetellsmesheknowsIhavenointentionofgettingoutofhere.

ChapterThirteen

POPPY

“Cathedrals”–JumpLittleChildren

SMELL

EXHAUST

SWIRLS

AROUND

TAKE

SEAT

THE

COLD

CONCRETE

EDGE

THE

FOUNTAIN

taking in the crowded area of Trafalgar Square. Several pigeons land on the pavement in front of me,
bobbingtheirheadsastheypace,lookingforcrumbs.

It'sbeenagessinceI'vebeenhere,butit'soneofthoseplacesthatseemstoneverchange.Iremember

comingherewithConnorandBrandonafterIturnedeighteen.ItwasoneofthefewtimesIgotsodrunkI
couldn'twalkstraight.We'dcomeoutofapub,andConnorandBrandonbasicallycarriedmeovertothis
exactspotonthefountain.Theverysecondtheysatmedown,Istarteddryheaving.Brandontookmyface
andturnedmearoundsoI'dvomitinthewaterinsteadofallovermynewChuckTaylor’s.Ican’thelpbut
tolaughthinkingaboutit.

BrandonalwayswastheonewhotookcareofmewhenI'dgetinastatelikethat,one,becauseitwas

usuallyhisdoing,andtwo,well,Ididn'twantConnortoseemesuchamess.

Thepigeonsthatlitterthecourtyardgoflyingoffwhenamotorbikeveersoffcourseandstartsintothe

square,peoplescatteringeverywhichway.Myphonerings.Iignoreit,wishingIhadn'tturneditbackon.
Ipullitfrommypurseandthere’samissedcallfromHope.Partofmedebatesontossingthephoneinto
the fountain. As much as I love her, I just want to start all over. I know how pathetic and ridiculous it
sounds, and I know I'll feel differently tomorrow, but right now, in this moment, I just want to forget
anythingbeforethisday.Beforethisveryminute,becauseyoucan'tmissthingsyoudon'tremember.

JustasIrearmyhandbacktothrowthephoneintothewater,itbuzzesagain.IstareatHope'sname

flashingonthescreen.Reluctantly,IswipetoacceptthecallandbeforeIevenpullittomyear,Icanhear
hershoutingontheotherend.

"Poppy,whereareyou?"
"I'mfine,Hope.I'mfine."
"Fine...I went by your house a few days ago, you know after you wouldn’t answer my calls or

anything.It'snotyourhouseanymore.Thebankseizedit..."

"Iknow..."
"Where.Are.You?"
"InLondon."
Shesighs."Fuck,Poppy.WhereinLondon?"
"InLondon,Hope.IfoundBrandon.I'mfine.I'mjust..."
"Brandon?"
"Yes,Brandon."

"The..."
"IhiredaPI.HefoundhiminsomenastybarinLondon,soIcametogethim."
"Gethim?"Hopegroans."Youwenttogethimanddowhat?"
Andthat,I'mstillnotcertainof.
"Yourhouse,Poppy,"Hopesays."Youdon'thaveahousetobringhimbackto,yourealizethat?"
"Iknow."
"WhereinLondonareyou?"
"In..." I glance around, watching people carry out their lives. People smiling and laughing. Couples

walking hand in hand. Children bickering. Why can't I just disappear within the masses? Fade away?
Whatwouldbesowrongwiththat?"I'mjust…inLondon,"Isay.

"Haveyougonemental?I'mcomingtogetyou."
"No,you'renot,Hope.Iloveyou,butI'mfine.Ipromise.I’llcallyoubacklater."
NosoonerhaveIhungupmyphonethanshe'sringingitagain.Withoutasecondthought,Idropitinto

thefountain,watchingthetinybubblesthattrickleupfromitasitfallstothebottomoftheconcretepool.

AndIwalkoff.I'mnotrunning.JustturningmybackonthethingsIdon'twanttoacknowledge.Some

callitcowardice,aninabilitytocope.Icallitsurvivalinstinct.

FTER

LEFT

RAFALGAR

QUARE

STOPPED

THE

LIBRARY

DID

BRIEF

PTSD

THEIR

COMPUTER

and found a link to the Combat Stress Treatment Centre. I need to understand Brandon. I need to know
whatI'mdealingwithifeitheroneofusareevergoingtogetoutofthismess.SohereIsit,infrontof
RetiredSergeantFergusHenley'sdesk.ApictureofJesusonthefarwallandapictureoftheQueenright
beside it. I only meant to get some information, and had I just done that, all would be well. But, the
problem is, Fergus Henley has that kind of face that makes you want to pour your heart and soul out to
him.IfeltlikeIwasinaconfessionalandhewasapriest.ItoldhimaboutBrandon'sinjury—notabout
himrunning,ofcourse,butaboutthefightringLarryhaspulledtogetherforallthosevets,evenMadame
Wrinkles.I'mterrifiedI'vegivenhimtoomuchinformation.Actually,IknowIhave.

"Justonemoment."Fergussaysasherisesfromhischair."I'vegotsomegoodinformationalpackets

foryou."Hisink-blackhairisneatlygroomed.Hisfacecleanshaven,buthehasafullsleeveoftattoos
showingthroughhiscrisplylaunderedwhitedressshirt.

Hewalksoutoftheroom,leavingthedoorslightlycracked.Thetick-tockoftheclockonthewallis

nearlydrivingmeinsane.

"Well,Ms.Blaine,"hestridesbackintotheroom,placingseveralpamphletsandonethinbookonthe

deskbesideme."Ithinkthosemayhelpyougainabetterunderstandingoftheissueathand."Hetakesa
seatbehindhisdesk,theleatherofficechairgroaningunderhisweight.Heoffersasympatheticsmile."I
cantellyouthatsocialsupportisoneofthemostimportantthingsforsomeonewithPTSD.TheTyrwhitt
House,it'sinSurrey,nottoofarfromhere,it'sagrandplace.I'msureImaycouldgetyour..."There'sa
briefpause."Husband?"

Inod,feelingguiltyforlying."Yes."IcanfeelmycheekswarmandboththepictureofJesusandthe

Queenseemtobedisapprovinglyglaringatme.

Hegrabsanotepadandapen."What'shisfirstname?"
I can't give him Brandon's name. Brandon Blaine isn't a real person, and Brandon O'Kieffe has a

warrantoutbyourmilitary.Sweatbeadsonmyforehead,underthecollarofmyshirt."Oh,hewon'tbeup
for any treatment center Sergeant. He's um..." My heart bangs against my ribs, my blood pressure
skyrocketing."Helikestokeeptohimself,youknow?Justwantstogodohisroughhousinganddrinkhis
whiskey.Honestly,he'dprobablybeunhappyaboutmeevencomingbyhere.Ijust...uh."Iabruptlypush
upfromthechair,nearlyknockingitoverasIreachforthepamphlets."Ishouldjustgo."I'mbackingout

ofhisofficewhilehe'sgivingmeacuriousstare."Thankyoufortheinformation."Ismileandhenods,
wavingatmebeforeIturntoopenthedoor.

The moment I'm out of his office, I breathe a sigh of relief. That's all I need to do. Get Brandon

reported.

ChapterFourteen

BRANDON

“IPredictARiot”–KaiserChiefs

STANDING

THE

KITCHEN

SHOVELING

OCO

OPS

MOUTH

WHEN

THERE

KNOCK

THE

FRONT

DOOR

Kyanhasfinallyfiguredouthowtofuckingknock,thenit'llbeamiracle.

Igoandopenthedoor,bowlofcerealinonehandandmyspoonintheother,andthesecondIdo,I

wishIhadn't.

"BrandonfuckingO'Kieffe,"Hopesays,pointingatme."Youknow,you'reacunt."
"Nice to see you too, Hope." She shoulders past me and my Coco Pops spill over the edge of the

bowl, scattering across the floor. Great, now Poppy's going to whine. "Come on in, why don't you," I
grumbleasIclosethedoor.

HopeMcGrathisasassyredheadwithamouthonherthatwouldputasailortoshame.She'salllong

legsandatightwaist,andbackintheday,Ihadahugecrushonher.Buthonestly,highmaintenanceisn't
eventhewordwiththatone.Shestandsinthemiddleofmylivingroom,glancingaroundandwrinkling
hernoseindisgustasthoughtheplacemighttaintherdesignershoes.

Poppyappearsfromthehallway,asmallfrownonherfacewhensheglancesatHope."Howonearth

didyoufindthisplace?"sheasks.

"ThatPIyoupaidwasgoodforsomething,soitseems."
"Oh, what did you do, Hope? Blow him or something?" Poppy asks as she leans against the wall,

foldingherarmsoverherchest.

Hope’smouthpopsopenbeforeshesnapsitshutagain."No,Ijustthreatenedtoreporthisphonyarse.

Istillfuckingmight.Moneygrabbingcunt."

"ItoldyouIwasfine."
Sherollshereyes."Babe,youaresofarfromfineit'sunreal."
"I'masfineasI'mgoingtoget."
"Comehome.Thisplaceis...I'mprettysureIcontractedEbolaandthemangewhenIwalkedthrough

thedoor."

Ah,yes,andHopeisacompletesnob.Herfamilyisinwhiskey,andinIreland...well,whiskeymight

aswellbeoil.

"Idon'twanttogoanywhere."Poppygroans.“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Hope turns her honey-coloured eyes on me. "You always were bad news, Brandon O'Kieffe." She

dragshereyesovermybody,asmallsmirktouchingherlips.

Iraiseabrowather."Andyoualwayswereamouthybitch."
"Okay,fine."Sheshrugsbeforeshedropsherhandbagonthecoffeetableandpropsherhandsonher

hips."ThenI'mnotgoinganywhereeither."

"Fuckingjoy,"Igrumble,makingmywaytothekitchenanddumpingmybowlinthesink.
Thefrontdoorbangsopen,KyanandFinnbargingin.Kyanstopsmidstridewhenhiseyeslandon

Hope.

"Hellothere,treacle,"hesays,takingherhandandbringingittohislips.
"Oh,god,"Poppygroansandtossesherhandsintheairassheturnsaround.
Finnwavesashemeanderspastmeintothekitchen.
"What'syourname,yougorgeous,littlething?"Kyansays.Iface-palmandshakemyheadjustwaiting

toseehowHopereactstothatone.

Herlipskickupatthecornerandshepivotsonherheel,closingthedistancebetweenthem.Leaning

in,shewhisperssomethinginhisear,andhegroans.Whenshepullsaway,hebitesdownonhisclosed
fist,hiseyesfallingtohertits.

"Anything,"hewhispersasheclaspshishandstogetherinaprayinggesture."I'myours."
Finncomesoutfromthekitchen,mydamnCocoPopsinhand.HeglancesatmethenlooksatHope

andKyanbeforelaughingandstuffinghischeekslikeachipmunkstoringnutsforthewinter.

"Hope,honestly,"Poppysaysasshestepsbetweenthem,shoeingKyanawaylikeastraymutt."He's

niceascanbe,buthe'sdirty.You'llendupwitharashonyourmouthandsomethinghorridbetweenyour
legs.Containyourself."PoppychokesalaughassheglancesatKyan.

Hope’seyesdragalloverKyan'sbody."Thatone'sprettyenoughthatImightjusttakearash."
I clear my throat, seeing an opportunity too good to be fucking true. "Hope meet Kyan. Kyan meet

Hope."IstepbesideKyanandclasphisshoulderwithmyhand."FortheloveofGod,takethatonewith
you,wouldyou?"

Hetiltshisheadtotheside."IguessIcouldbepersuadedtotakeonefortheteam,"hesays,adjusting

himself.

Poppysighs,shakingherhead."YoudorealizeyoujustconnectedthetwobiggestslutsinTheBritish

Isles,right,Brandon?"

Hopegasps."Iamnotaslut.Iamsimplygenerous.Callitagift."
"Yeahwell,"Ilaugh."Kyan'sthegiftthatkeepsongiving.Chlamydiawillburnforaweekortwo."
Poppynods,hereyesrollingslightlybeforesheglancesaround."Whyiseveryonehereanyway?"
"Wewereonourwaytothegym."
"Youwannajoin?"Finnasks.
IfitgetsmethefuckawayfromHope,I'mgame."Sure."

ChapterFifteen

POPPY

“Gold”–Kiiara

OPE

CAREFULLY

APPLIES

THICK

LAYER

BRIGHT

RED

LIPSTICK

. I

KNOW

WAS

RUDE

WHEN

SHE

SHOWED

. I

shouldn'thavebeen,butshit,justletmebe.

"SodidhetellyouwhyinthehellhewentAWOL?"Hopeasks,diggingthroughherpursebeforeshe

pullsoutsomeblackeyeliner."Gotasharpener?"

"No."
"Noyoudon'thaveasharpener,ornoyouhaven'tfoundoutwhyhewentAWOL?"
"Neither."
She shakes her head as she attempts to use her fingernail to dig some of the eyeliner out. "I never

understoodyouandyourdisrespectformakeup."

Isigh.
"Sowhyhaven'tyouaskedhim?"
Itseemssimpleenough.Andyou'dthinkIwouldhaveinsistedonfindingoutwhatwentthroughhis

headwhenheranoff.But,Ijusthaven't.Iguessmaybe,Idon'twanttoknow,ormaybeIjustdon'tcare
anylonger."Justhaven't.He'suh,well,youknow,notreallyhimself."

"ProbablyhasPTSD.Combatusuallyfucksaguyup,Imeankillingpeopleandall,canyouimagine?"

Shesmudgessomeoftheeyelineroverhereyelidsthentossesthepencilbackinsideherpurse."Hashe
scaredtheshitoutofyouyet?"

I think back to his outburst the night I found him. How he pinned me down with his forearm in his

sleep.Thewayhewasafewnightsago."Notreally..."

"Giveittime.Look,I'mnottryingtobeacunt,Poppy,butyourememberSylis?"
SyliswassomeIrishmilitaryguyshe"dated"afewyearsback.Hewasliterallyinsane."Yeah,you

can'texactlyforgetsomeonelikethat."

"Yep. PTSD. His family swore he was the most docile person ever before he went to war and did

combat.Poppy,it'ssomethingtheycan'tcontrol.Youcan'tfixhim,youknowthat?"

Istareatherreflectioninthemirror,mycheekswarmingwithanger.Shedoesn'tgetit."He'snota

brokentoy,Hope.There'snothingtofix."

She drops her chin to her chest, inhaling as she shakes her head. "I didn't mean it like that, I

just...Poppy,you'rejustinforitwithhim.Yourheadwillconstantlybespinning,andbeforelong,with
someonelikethat,youwon'tknowwhichwayisup,whichwayisdown,andwhereyourarseholeisto
wipeit."

"Canwejustchangethesubjectorsomething."

"Yep," she says, primping her hair before turning from the mirror. "So, this fight. What time does it

start?"

"Ten."
Shenods."Well,thisshouldbeinteresting.Divebar,badboyboxers."Shesmiles."YouknowIlike

mymenrougharoundtheedges,likepikeyBradPitt."

Rollingmyeyes,Igrabmypursefromthefloorofthebathroom."Yeah.Iknow."
"AndthatKyan."Shebitesdownonherlip."Helooksaboutasroughastheycome."
"Anddirty,Hope.Dirty."
Sheheadstothedoor,slingingherpurseoverhershoulder."Alittlefilthneverhurtanyone."

ATURDAY

NIGHT

AND

THE

PUB

BASEMENT

PACKED

. T

SMELL

STALE

BEER

AND

CIGARETTE

SMOKE

permeatestheaircausingmynosetowrinkle.

Money is changing hands everywhere I look. The hum of voices almost drowns out the heavy rock

musicblaringthroughtheroom.Agirlinaneongreenbikiniwalksaroundtheoutsideoftheropedoff
ring.Thestringymaterialbarelycovershernipples,muchlessherass.Smiling,sheprancesaroundthe
ringwithaboardraisedaboveherheadthatreads:Fiveminutes.

Fiveminutesbeforegrownmenbeateachotherintoabloodypulp.Irollmyeyes.Hopeclapsher

hands.

Peopleswarmclosertotheropes.Thesesweatymenhavenorespectforpersonalspace,andmeand

Hope are jostled around as everyone pushes closer and closer. The tattered rope to the ring is right in
frontofmeandIgrabontoittokeepfromfallingover.

"We'regoingtogetcrushedifwestayrighthere,"Ishoutoverthenoise.
Hopegrins."Thisisthebestspot.Closeenoughtogettheirsweatandbloodonme."Shethrowsher

headbackonalaugh.

"There'ssomethingwrongwithyou."
"What?"sheshouts.
Ishakemyhead.
Larryappearsfromthebackoftheroomandslipsbetweentheropes."Ladies.Fellas,"hespeaksinto

anoldmicrophone.Thespeakerscrackleandscreechwithfeedback."WelcometoThePit.Tonight,we
havethreefightslinedup,allnewchallengersforyourfavoriteboys."There'saloudroundofapplause,
whichpromptsadeepgrintosetoverLarry'sweatheredface,hiseyessparking."So,tonight'schallenger
isfromupnorth.Undefeatedinhislastthreefights,it'sDaleWinters!"Afewpeoplecheer—women,but
there'salowboothatboomsaroundtheroom.

Abrawnymanwithashavedheadstepsintothering,pumpinghisfistintheair.
"And,likeIneedtointroducethisbastard,Finnthe'IronFist'West."
TheentirebasementrattlesfromtheapplauseasFinndashesthroughtheropesandcirclesthering.
Abelldingsandthetwomenroundeachother,knucklesup,gazeslocked.
"Punch'emintheface,Finn,"thedrunkmanbehindmeshouts.
Finnthrowsapunchandtheotherguydarts.Anotherjabisthrown,thistime,Finn'sknuckleslandon

thesideofDale'sface,hisheadwhippingaroundandspittleflyingout.

"Oh,suchNeanderthals,"Hopesayswithaswoon."Iloveit."
Thefightlastsnolongerthanfiveminutes.Finngetsinonegoodpunchtotheguy'stempleandhefalls

tohisknees,pitchingbackwardsandforwardsforamoment,spitflyingfromhismouthwhenhefinally
hitsthefloor.FinnleavestheringandLarrybendsdownnexttoDale,rubbingsmellingsaltbeneathhis
nose.Dalesitsup,groggyandunsteady,andLarryhelpshimtohisfeetandoutofthering.

"Well,"Hopesays."Ifthisdoesn'tgetyourovariespumping,Idon'tknowwhatwill."

"Right,”Islowlyturntolookather,myeyesnarrowing.“Becausebloodynosesandsplitlipsareso

sexy..."

Thescreechofaguitarandloudbassofdrumscomesblaringthroughthespeakersand,asifoncue,

thegirlinthegreenbikiniprancesaroundtheringagainwiththefive-minutewarningsign.

"Oh,Ihopethedirtyoneisupnext,"Hopesays.
"YoumeanKyan?"
"Yep."Shesmiles,butonlyforamomentbeforeascowlformsonherface.
"What?"
"Lookathimovertherebrooding."Shecrossesherarmoverherchestandshakesherhead."Sucha

child."

IfollowherstaretotheothersideoftheringtofindBrandon,adrinkinonehandandanastyglareset

onbothofus.

"What'shisdeal?"sheasks.
"Hedoesn'tlikemecominghere."Ishrug."Hethinksit'stoorough."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were a precious little wallflower. For the love of God, Poppy,

don'tlethimtreatyoulikeaninvalid.Youareplentycapableoftakingcareofyourself."

"I'mherearen'tI?"
Justthen,theguybehindmegrabsmywaist,attemptingtodancewithme.Iturnaroundandglareat

him."Nothanks."

"Ah,comeonnow,love."HereachesformywaistagainandIswathishairyhandaway.
"Idon'twanttodance."
Asmirkformsoverhisface.
Hopestepsbesideme."How‘boutIcutyouifyoutouchheragain?"
"That a promise, love?" He leans down, inching his face toward her as he grabs my hips. "I like a

womanwithabitoffireinher."

"Oh,I'maginger,there'splentyoffireinme,"shesays,rearingbackandthrowingapunchattheman.

Hecatchesherarmandtwistsit.

Suddenly,theentirecrowdshiftsandsways.There'sshouting.Womenscream.I'mknockedover,my

shoefallingoffintheprocess.Hopegrabsontomeandwescurrytothesideoftheroom.

"Whatthecraphappened?"Iask,pantingforbreath.
Hopestaresacrosstheroomatthemenshouting.Herbrowwrinklesbeforehereyespopwideand

shegrins."Oh,Brandonjusthappened."

"What?"
"Yep."Hersmilewidens.Ipeeroverthetopofthecrowd.Brandon'sgottheguypinnedupagainstthe

wall by his throat, wailing on his face with his free hand. Several men are attempting to drag Brandon
away,buttonoavail.

Atfirst,I’mshockedandcovermymouthwithmyhand.Iwatchinhorrorforafewseconds,myheart

bangingfuriouslyagainstmyribs.Iwaitforsomeonetogetcontrolofhim,buthe’slikeabeast.“Damn
it,”IsayasItakeoff,shovingmywaythroughthecrowd.

"Poppy,whatinthehellareyoudoing?"Hopeshoutsafterme,butIkeepgoing.I'maboutthreefeet

awayfromBrandonwhenamanblocksme.

"Brandon!"Iyellaroundtheman."Stopit.Stopbeforeyoukillhim."
Two men finally manage to pull Brandon away and the man falls to his hands and knees, his face

smeared with blood. Brandon struggles against the men restraining him, somehow managing to kick the
injuredguyinthegut.

"BrandonO'—"IstopmyselfjustasLarrycomeschargingthroughthecrowdwithFinnrightbehind

him.Larry'scarryingafireextinguisherandswearingasheshovesthroughthemen.

"Fucking hell, Brandon." Larry stops behind him. The men holding Brandon turn around, and when

they do, Brandon breaks free from their hold, immediately grabbing the stunned man on the floor and
hittinghimagain.

"Motherfu..."Larrypullsthepintothefireextinguisher,aims,andspraysthefoamalloverBrandon.

And…hefreezes.It'salmostlikethatsnappedhimbackintorealityforasplitsecond.Brandonglances
downatthebleedingman,thendowntohisblood-coveredknuckles.

"Nowgetyourassonbacktothelockers."Larrypointstothebackoftheroom,fireextinguisherstill

aimedandreadytosprayifneeded.

Brandongivesmeonefleetingglimpsebeforeturningaroundandstormingacrosstheroom.
Larryshakeshisheadashemakeshiswaybackthroughthecrowd.Hopegripsmyelbow."Holyshit.

Thatwashot."

Iglareather."No,itwasn't.Lookatthatguy."Ipointtothemanslumpedagainstthewall,several

mennowattemptingtohelphimtohisfeet."Thatisnothot.Thatisoutofcontrol."

Sheshrugs."Imean,yeah,butstill.Theguywasbeingaripedick."
Tossingmyhandsintheair,Igotowalkoff,butHopegrabsontomyarm."Lethimbe."
Iyankawayfromhergrip."I'llbebackinjustaminute."
WhyIwanttofollowhim,Idon’tknow.Ishouldleavehimalone,butsomethinginsideofmecan't

standtoseehimhurtlikethat.Notthephysicalwounds.That'snotwhatanyofthisisabout.It'sthedeeper
scars.Therealreasonhe'sbecomeBrandon"TheBreaker"Blaine.It'sthatfeelingdeepinsidehissoul,
insidethelittlebitofhearthehasleft.Theneedhefeelstopunishhimselfforsomethinghehadnocontrol
over—that'swhyIwanttofollowhim,becauseIdoknowwhatthat'slike.

Istayedupfornightsonend,wonderingifConnorwouldstillbehereifI'dfoughthimalittleharder

aboutthemilitary.Iblamedmyselfbecauseisn'tthattheeasiestthingtodo—blameyourselfforsomething
thatdestroysyou?Iopenthedoorandhurrythroughtheexit.I'mhalfwaydownthecorridorwhenIhear
Brandon shout a string of profanities that are interrupted by the unmistakable thud of his fists slamming
intooneofthemetallockers.

Iturnthecorner.Brandon'sarmsarebracedagainstthelocker,hissweatslickedmusclestensed,his

chest heaving. My gaze swings to the huge dent in the locker with a spatter of blood in the center. I
cautiouslyapproachhim.Iknowhemusthearme,butregardlessofthat,hisheadremainsdropped.

With each step I take toward him, I watch him. His shoulders rise and fall on heavy breaths, the

exaggerated movements cause those purple scars that dot his side and back to catch underneath the
fluorescentlights.

I stop behind him, staring at that long, jagged scar. I just want to touch it for some reason, run my

fingersalongittolethimknowhe’sstillperfect,he’sstillBrandon…

"Brandon,"IwhisperasIliftmyhandandgentlybrushmyfingertipoverthelongestofhisscars,the

raisedskinalmostlikebraillebeneathmyfinger.

ThenextthingIknow,Brandonspinsaround,grabsmebybothshoulders,andslamsmeagainstthe

metallockerswithabang.ThescreamIletoutfromthesuddenshockofitechoesdownthehallway.

Hiseyesarelockedonmine,voidofallexpression.Hisnostrilsflare.
"Brandon,"Isaycalmly,becauseI'mnotsurehe'sevenhererightnow.Ineedhimtocomeback,leave

thewarzoneinhismind."Brandon..."

His eyebrows pull together in a frown and his fingers wrap around my jaw in a fierce grip. For a

second, I think he's snapping out of it, but all at once, everything changes. He presses his body against
mine,pinningmebetweenhishardchestandthedentedlockerdoor.Hiseyesdroptomylipsjustbefore
hismouthbrutallyslamsovermine.Ican'tbreathe.Ican'tmove.Shockhasmecompletelyfrozen.Hislips
lay harder over my mouth, trembling as they demand a response to his violence. His grip on my jaw
growsmoreintense,andIfearhe'sgoingtobreakmyskin.Histonguegrazesmylipsandmybodysoftens

underthatsimpletouch.Ican’thelpbuttogravitatetowardhim.

Somethingthathaslongbeendormantawakens,surgingtothesurfacelikearoguewaveandwashing

over me. Brandon's lips sear me, heating every cold inch of my body. I should push him away, but I
couldn't find the strength if I tried. So, I surrender, winding my arms around his neck and tugging him
closer.Ipartmylips.Histonguebrushesmine,generatingafirethatthreatenstoconsumeusboth.Allhis
anger,hispain,ourpain—ispouredintothisonekiss.Andit'ssuchabeautifulkindoftorture.Ablinding
shaftofpurelightinourownpersonalhell.

Andjustasquicklyasthekissstarted,itends.Brandontearsawayfromme.Hestaggersbackseveral

steps, swiping his hand down his jaw and over his mouth. He cast one, fleeting glance in my direction
beforeheturnshisbackonme.

"I..."Istart,butIdon'tknowwhattosay.WhatcanIsay?“I…”
"Justgo,Poppy,"hewhispers.
"Brandon..." I take a step toward him. He turns to face me, but holds out a hand as if he wishes he

couldwardmeoff.

"Ican't...Ican'tdothisrightnow."
Myheartpounds,mychestgrowingtightbeforeIturnandwalkoutofthelockerroom.Ican’tdothis

rightnow.Shakingmyhead,IlaughbecauseIheardthoseexactwordsfromBrandonwhenIwassixteen:

"Whyyououthereallbyyourself,possum?"
"Don'tknow."Ishrugged,kickingmylegsoffthesideofthepier,mytoesbarelydippingbeneath

thewater.

"Connor was looking for you—well, you and the Caramel Nibbles." He laughs. I roll my eyes. I

wishitwereConnorIwasinlovewithbecausehewouldneverrunoffwithNieveKirkpatrick.Loving
himwouldn'thurtthewaylovingBrandondoes.

"I'm sure Nieve is looking for you." There's an edge to my tone even though I try my hardest to

keepitpolite.ShewantsBrandon.Hewantsher.SheiseverythingIwillneverbe—thesluttyblonde
whocanmakeboysfalltotheirkneeswithoneglance.

"Well,shecankeeplooking."
"Isawyoukisshertheotherweek."Heatwashesovermycheeks."She'spretty."
"She'salright."Hesitsdownnexttomeandnudgesme."Wouldn'tbejealous,wouldyou,poss?"
"Jealousofwhat?Andstopcallingmethat."
"Ofmekissingher."
"Idon'tcarewhoyoukiss."
"Youdon't?"
"No,"Isaywithasigh."You'veprobablygotmouthgonorrheaorsomething."
Brandon laughs, and I hate him and love him at the same time. Everything about him makes me

wanthim.It'sannoying.HepinchesmysideandIjerkaway,giggling."Mylittlepossumisjealous."

"Wouldyoushutup?"Iturntofacehimandhe'ssoclosetome,hisbreathlacedwithwhiskeyand

cigarettes.Iclosemyeyes,breathinghimin,pretendingIcouldkisshimifIwanted.

"I'dkissyoutoo,ifyou'dletme..."hesays,andmyheartgoesintoafit.
Inthedark,Icanbarelyseethefaintestofsmilesflickeracrosshislips,hisgreeneyesdancing.

MypulsehammersinmychestandIswallow.ThenextthingIknow,Brandon'sfingerssweepmyhair
behind my ear and his lips barely brush mine. A rush of heat drowns me and before I can move, his
mouth crushes over mine. So soft and warm and gentle. He holds his lips against mine, his hand
cuppingthebackofmyheadasthetipofhistonguetouchesmine.

And just like that, he pulls away on a sigh. "Fuck..." He stumbles to his feet, dragging his hand

throughhishairashepacesthelengthofthepier.

"What,I..."

"Ican't.Ijustcan'tdothiswithyou."
Mynostrilsflare,myjawtenses,andangercrashesthroughme."Ididn'taskyouto."
ButBrandon'salreadyhalfwayupthelawn,headingbacktothehouse.BrandonO’Kieffewasmy

firstcrush,myfirstkiss,andthefirstboytoeverbreakmyheart...

ChapterSixteen

BRANDON

“Demons”–ImagineDragons

HAT

THE

FUCK

WRONG

WITH

? P

OPPY

? O

ALL

THE

FUCKING

PEOPLE

. I

JUST

LOST

. M

MIND

WAS

completelyengrossedbythebloodymemoriesofwar,andthen…thereshewas,likeafuckingapparition.
Forasecond,allIwantedwastobatheinherwarmth,torememberwhatit'sliketobeimmersedinthat
glow she emanates. She's so beautiful and good and, fuck...Connor's. She always was, and she always
willbe,Connor's.

I shouldn’t have kissed her, but I liked it. She made it all disappear, the hate and the anger and the

battleraginginmymind.Thesecondmylipstouchedhers,therewasnothingbutsilence,andmymind
hasn'tbeensilentsincethatbombexploded.Thatonekisswaspeaceinalifetimeofwaranditterrifies
me.Theguiltiseatingmealive,gnawingawayinthepitofmystomachuntilIfeelphysicallysick.I've
donealotofwronginmylife,butmybestfriend'swidow....that’stheshitthatwillgetyouaspotinthe
innercircleofhell.

PUSH

AND

SHOVE

WAY

THROUGH

THE

SWARM

SPECTATORS

ALL

FOCUSED

YAN

FIGHT

EOPLE

TURN

glareatme,thentheyrealizewhoIam,atwhichpoint,theycan'tgetoutofmywayquickenough.Onthe
farsideofthebasementisafireexit.Ishoveitopenandclimbuptheshortflightofstairsthatleadout
intothealleyatthebackofthepub.TheairoutsideiscoldandIinhaleadeepbreath,allowingittoclear
mymind.

A spark of light catches my eye. I watch through the shadows as Finn leans against the wall of the

alleyway,cuppingtheflamefromhislighter.Wordlessly,heholdsoutapacketofcigarettes,offeringme
one.Itakeitandhelightsitforme.ThethicksmokelingersinmylungsandIslowlyreleaseit,allowing
ittodriftpastmylips.

"You'reslipping,"Finnsaysquietly.
Isighandrestagainstthewallrightnexttohim.Hefightslikeananimalwhenhe'sinthering,but

outsideofit,he'spracticallyaghost.He'stheguythatsitsback.Theoneyouforgetiseventhere,buthe
hears and sees everything. He may not say much, but when he does, everyone listens, and, to me, his
presenceisacomfortablesilence.

"It'sjustbeenaroughcoupleofweeks."Itakeanotherdragfromthecigarette.
Heshrugsoneshoulder,throwinghiscigonthegroundandsteppingonit."Careful,friend.Ifyougo

upinflameswithherstandingtooclose,she'sgoingtogetburned."

Inod.

I know. I know all too well. He pushes off the wall and saunters back inside, closing the fire exit

behindhim.Hehasthiswayofplacingthoughtsinyourmindandthenjustleavingyoutothinkonit.The
hurtlookonPoppy'sfaceplaysthroughmymindoverandover.AndIt'snotthefirsttimeI'veputthatlook
onherfaceeither.I'mafuckingarsehole.

’

STARTED

RAIN

ATER

TRICKLES

FROM

THE

EAVE

LINGER

JUST

OUTSIDE

THE

DOOR

KEY

HAND

. I'

triedtothinkofwhattosaytohertheentirewayhome,butIcan'tcomeupwithasinglefuckingthing.I
inhale,slidethekeyintothekeyhole,andbracemyself.ButwhenIopenthedoor,I'mmetwithdarkness.

"Poss?"Nothing.She'snothere.
Iswitchthelighton,headstraightforthekitchen,andgrababottleofwhiskey.Ipause,staringatthe

golden-brownliquid,andforamoment,Ifeelguilty,guiltythatI'mnotbetterthanthis.ButI'mjustnot,
andthere'snopointinpretendingotherwise.Iyankthetopoffandpressthebottletomylips,swallowing
backathirdofthebottleinseveralgulps.Numbness,lackoffeeling…thesearethethingsI'mconstantly
chasing,andPoppy—shemakeseverythingbrightandshiny.Idon'twantit.So,IdrinkandIdrink.

Bythetimethelockonthefrontdoorclicksopen,I'mthreequartersofthewayintothebottle.Rain

nowpoundsagainstthewindows,thunderrumblingasthoughthewholeworldismadatme.

Poppystepsintotheroom,herlongbrownhairdrenchedandhanginginfrontofherface.Herentire

bodyissoakedlikedadrownedrat.Shegivesmeashort-livedglancebeforemakingherwaybacktothe
bedroom,bangingintothewallasshegoes.Fuck,she'sdrunk.

Afewminuteslater,shecomesstumblingdownthehallwearingoneofmyratty,oldNirvanat-shirts

thathitsheratmid-thigh.MyeyesstraydowntoherbarelegsandIsigh,tryingtoblockoutthethoughts
running through my mind. It's fighting a losing battle. That kiss...it was like ripping off a Band-Aid. I
haven'tkissedPoppyfornearlytenyears,notsinceIwasseventeenyearsold.Iblockeditallout,shoved
anyromanticfeelingsIhadforherintoaholesodeep,IhopedtheywouldneversurfacebecauseIcould
neverhurtConnorthatway.AndIhatedmyselfforhurtingherthatway,forreciprocatingsomethingthat
hadnorightbeingthereinthefirstplace.Butnow...onekiss,andeverythingisrightthereatthefrontof
mymind.Only,thistime,it'sinfinitelymorepainfulbecauseit'sshadowedbyguilt,hauntedbyConnor's
ghost.

She plops down at the end of the couch, grabs the TV remote, and turns it on, surfing through the

channels.Ijuststareather,wantingtosaysomething,butinstead,Itiltthatbottleback.

"Gonna drink the whole bottle again?" she asks, her eyes glued to the TV. I want to pretend her

disappointmentdoesn'taffectme,butofcourse,that'sbullshit.

I down the remaining whiskey, drop the empty bottle on the floor, and listen to the glass as it rolls

acrossthecarpet."Yep."

"Wannagowanderoutintothestreetandseeifyoucanfindsomeoneelsetobeatup?"Sheshakesher

head. "Really, it's amazing. You're an angry, drunk fighter." She claps her hands. "Way to go, Brandon.
Waytofuckinggo."Shehiccups.

Oh,she'sonform.ThethingwithPoppy,she'sthesweetestpersonyoucouldwishtomeet,untilyou

hurt her feelings. And then the only way she knows to handle it is to try and hurt you right back. I'm
fuckinginvinciblethough.Shecan'thurtme.

"It'snotlikeanyoneeverhadhighexpectationsofme,isitnow?"
She snorts. She's pushing the buttons on the remote so hard, the controller shakes every time she

changes the channel. "You're an asshole." Another drunk hiccup. She glares at me and I can't help but
smirkather.Poppy'sshitatbeingmad,butdamnshe'scutewhenshe'sdrunk.

"I'vealwaysbeenanarsehole,poss."
A slight smile tugs at her lips and she shakes her head. "And now, entering the ring, Brandon the

Breaker Blaine..." She giggles before cupping her hands to her mouth and pretending to be the roaring
crowd."Punchhimintheface,Brandon."Nowhervoicesoundsmorelikesomeannoyingbimbo."You
killhim,I'llsitonyourfaceandhaveyourillegitimatechildren,Brandon.Bloodmakesmeallhot."She
laughsatherselfthenshakesherhead."Dumbwomen."

Ipressmylipstogethertostiflealaugh."Youalmostsoundjealousthere,poss."
Shewhipsherheadaroundandglaresatme."Getoveryourself,Brandon.ShouldIremindyou,I'm

nottheonewhokissedyou?So,youcantakethatjealousbullshitandshoveit."

Ipullmygazeawayfromherandstareatthecoffeetable."Itwasamistake.Iwas...myheadwasina

badplace."

"Yourhead'salwaysinabadplace."Shedragsherhandsdownherface.
Thatlittledemoninmerearsitsuglyhead.Grittingmyteeth,Ifightwithmyself."Yes.”Mygazesnaps

backtoher.“Itfuckingis.AndIhavetoldyouathousandfuckingtimestorunasfarandasfastfromitas
youcan."ButIdon'twantherto.I'maselfishprick."Can'ttakethehits,getthefuckoutoftheway."

Shesighs."Whydidyoudoit?"
Andthereitis,thequestionIdon'thaveananswerfor.AllIknowisthatPoppyrepresentssomething

good;happiness,abettertime.Ibothloveandhateherforit.IwanttopushherawayatthesametimeasI
wanttoholdhersotightI'llneverletgo.Everythingaboutherisadouble-edgedsword.ButallIknowis
thatforthosepreciousfewsecondsthatshekissedmeback,Ifoundpeace.

"I don't know," I whisper honestly. "Friends?" I hold up my little finger and she stares at it for a

moment,hereyessoftening.

Sheslowlylinksherlittlefingerthroughmine."Alwaysandforever."
"Promise?" I feel raw and exposed, clinging to her as if everything starts and ends with her. I don't

likeit.

"Imean,Ididjustpinkypromiseonit.Andbesides,I'musedtoyoubeinganasshole.It'lltakealot

morethanthattomakemehateyou."

That'sjustthethingthough,eventually,shewillhateme.
She flops back against the couch cushion, her head lulling to the side and coming to rest on my

shoulder."Beingagrownupsuredoessuck,doesn'tit?"

I wrap my arms around her and pull her against my chest. "Yeah, it was so much simpler when we

were kids." I kiss her damp hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with rainwater. "Remember
whenweusedtoclimbupthatoakinyourgardenandthrowshitatConnor?"

Shegiggles."Yeah.Hewassobadatclimbingtrees."
"Ialwaysdidtellhimhewasanevolutionarydropout."Isnort.
"HedidcomeandgetmethattimeIgotstuck,though."
"Yeah,butthenhefellandbrokebothhisarms."Ilaugh,becausehelookedlikesuchadickwalking

aroundschoolwithbothhisarmsincasts.Still,everyonesignedthemandnoonetookthepissoutofhim.
HewasConnorBlaine,friendtoeveryone.Thegoldenboy.

"Thatwashim,though.Alwayscomingtotherescue."Asoftsmileformsonherlips,butIcanseethe

tearsbuildinginhereyes.Cuppingherface,Iswipemythumbsunderhereyes.

"I'mfuckingstarving,”Isay.“Wantsomepizza?"
"Sure."
Andthat'sit.Poppy'sversionofbeingpissedofflastsalloffiveminutes.Iwishallwomenwerelike

that.Lifewouldbeadamnsiteeasier.

IorderpizzaandwewatchsomeshitontheDiscoveryChanneluntilshefallsasleeponme.Having

hersmallbodypressedagainstmineiscomforting,soothinginastrangeway,butIdon'ttrustmyselfto
fallasleeplikethis,soIslipoutfromunderneathherandpickherup,carryinghertothebedroom.WhenI
pulltheduvetoverher,shegrabsontomywrist.

"Connor?"shemurmurshisnameinhersleepandmychestplummets.Iswallowaroundthelumpin

mythroatandkissherforehead,wishing,forhersake,thatIwasConnor.AsIstareatPoppy'ssleeping
form,sosmallinmykingsizebed,Iwonderhowwegothere?Twolostsoulstryingtosaveeachother
fromunsalvageableevents.Shemaybemyhope,butI'msurelyherdestruction.Ijustwishshewouldsee
it.Iwishshewouldrunbutshewon't,becauseshehasnothingtorunto.

ChapterSeventeen

POPPY

“Radioactive”–MadilynBailey

ROFESSIONAL

TREATMENT

FOR

PTSD

CAN

HELP

RELIEVE

THE

SYMPTOMS

YOU

ARE

DEALING

WITH

. A

DOCTOR

therapistwillhaveyourelivethetraumaticexperienceinacontrolledenvironmentinordertoprocess
theemotionswhichmayhelpreducethepowerfulholdtheeventhasonyourlife.

"What's that?" Brandon asks as he walks past me and into the kitchen. I glance up from the words,

watchingashegrabsamugfromthecupboard.Hishairisdamp,andatatteredtowelclingstohiships,
andIcan'thelpbutletmyeyesroamoverthedefinedexpanseofhisback,watchinghismusclestenseand
flexwitheverytinymovementthat'smade.

"SomethingIpickeduptheotherday,"Isay,closingthebookandholdingitupsohecanseethetitle:

"PTSD:MovingPastthePain".Iwatchhim,waitingtoseewhatkindofreactionhe'llhavetothis.He
brieflyskimsthetitle,rollshiseyes,thenswatshishandthroughtheair.

"Nothinginabookisgoingtohelpmewiththisshit."
"Brandon."Isighandtossthebookdownontothecouch."Youneedhelp,youknow?Andthatfight

ringisn'thelpingyou.Atall.Allitdoesisaggravatethesituation."

Heshrugs,turninghisbacktome."Givesmesomeonetohit."
"Someonetohit...Jesus,Brandon.Really?"Ipointtotherattypunchingbaginthecorneroftheroom.

"Hitthatthing,whydon'tyou?"

He turns around, spreading his arms wide. "They get fucking paid. I get fucking paid. Everyone's

happy."

"You're not happy, Brandon." I swallow, waiting on his anger to bubble to the surface. Maybe I

shouldn'thavesaidit,butit'sthetruth.

Hegripstheedgeofthecounter.Themusclesinhisjawrepeatedlyclench."Thisisasgoodasitgets,

Poppy.Idon'tneedanythingmore.Idon'tfuckingwantmore."

"Howcanyounotwantmorethanthis?"Igesturearoundthebleakapartment.
Hischindropstohischest,andastrandofdarkhairfallsoverhisforehead.There'sanuncomfortably

tense moment of silence before his head lifts, his sad eyes locking with mine. "Because those are the
cardsIwasfuckingdealt,"hewhispers.

"Stopit,Brandon."Ishakemyhead."Juststopit!"Thosewordscomeoutsoundingmuchharsherthan

I meant. My heart is pounding in my temples, my chest constricting. I reach to touch him, skimming my
fingersoverhisarm."Stopwallowinginit."

His brows pull together, and his eyes grow hard and cold. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him.

Every single thing I do makes me feel guilty because he's not getting to do it. So, I'll take the fucking

punches,andgivethemrightback,becauseitmakesmefeelbetter.Ifyouwanttomoveon,bemyfucking
guest,butIcan't."Icanfeelthehatefillingthetinyapartment.

Ifightbackthesobworkingitswayupmythroat.Igritmyteeth,swallow,andinhale."Don'tyoudare

dothattome!"Itakeasteptowardhim."DonotactlikeI'mjustlettinghimgo."

Hepushesoffthekitchencounterandwalkstowardthehallway."Don'ttrytofixme,Poppy.You'llbe

bitterlydisappointed."

Thedoortohisbedroomslamsshut,andIstandinthemiddleofthelivingroomwithangerpulsing

throughme.Partofmewantstopunchhimorthewallor....Islammyfistagainstthepunchingbagandit
barelybudges.PainradiatesupmyarmasIshakemyhandout.Istareatthebloodyknuckleprintsand
smears,wonderingwhatitisthatIamdoing.IwantBrandontobeBrandon.Iwanthimtorealizehe's
worth so much. To make him feel loved and cared for. And when he just walks away from me like
that...Myheadisswimminginconfusion,butevenwiththat,allIwanttodoismakethisbetter—forboth
ofus.

Igotohisroomandslowlypushopenthedoor.He'ssittingontheedgeofthemattress,hisheadhung

ashestaresatthecrumpledpicturethatsitsbesidehisbed.

Mychesttightens.Brandon'TheBreaker'—soindestructible,yetsoutterlyshattered.
Withoutaword,Icrawlontothebedandslideupbehindhim,wrappingmyarmsaroundhisbroad

body.Thewayhesmellsisfamiliar,andthereissomethingsoothingabouthavingfamiliarityinaworld
thatseemssoforeign.

IpeeroverhisshoulderatthepictureofhimandConnor.
"Hedraggedyouintosigningupforthearmy."Ilaugh."God,youpitchedafit.Remember?"Itakethe

picture from his hands, forcing myself to stare at Connor. Making myself look at him all the while
reminding myself that he is dead. Gone. No longer mine. That ache settles in my chest, causing my
heartbeattostutterforasecond.

"Yeah. Stupid fucker was determined." He shakes his head. "I hated every minute of training. Only

stayedbecauseIrefusedtoleavehim."

"Honestly,Iwasshockedyoudidn'tgetkickedout.IactuallybetConnorahundredquidyouwouldn't

lastthreeweeks."

"Yeoflittlefaith.”Hesnorts.“I'llgiveittoyou;Iwassoclosetowalkingoutwhentheymadeussit

inthatmuddyditchfortwodaysinthepisswetrain."Heshakeshishead.

"This..."Irestmychinonhisshoulderandrubmyhandoverhisarmbeforelacingmyfingersthrough

his."Thisiswhatweneedtodo.Rememberhim.Wedon'thavetolethimgo,Brandon,justthehurt.Only
thehurt,neverhim."

"War fucked me up long before Connor died. That just...pushed me over the edge. I'm angry at

everyoneandeverything."Heturnstofaceme,andIrestmyforeheadagainsthis.Hisbrowfurrows,his
eyessoften,andhiscallusedfingertipsbrushovermycheek."Exceptyou."

"Idon'twanttofixyou,Brandon.Ijustwanttounderstandyou."TearsblurmyvisionsoIclosemy

eyes. His rough fingers continue to trail over my face, and the longer they do, the more I lean in to his
touch,becauseitissafe,itisunderstanding,itisasclosetohomeasI'llevergetagain.

"Trustme,youdon'twanttounderstandme,"hewhispers.
Iopenmyeyesandstareathim,myeyesdesperatelysearchinghis.Atonetime,notthatlongago,I

knew this boy right here like the back of my own hand. But now there are parts to Brandon that I don't
know—pieces that are violent and angry, a person that I fear he has little control over. "I just want to
understandwhatyou'regoingthrough.Iknowyou,Brandon."Itracemyfingeroverhisshoulder."Iknow
you."

There'sabeatofsilenceandhisthumbgentlybrushesovermybottomlip."God,IfuckingwishIwas

stillthatguyyouknew,poss,Ireallydo."

"Youare,"Iwhisper."Deepdown,youare."
Idobelievethat.Ido...

ChapterEighteen

BRANDON

“WhenYouWereYoung”–TheKillers

“D

EEP

DOWN

YOU

ARE

,”

SHE

SAYS

THERE

’

SUCH

HOPE

THAT

STATEMENT

HOPE

KNOW

I’

NOTHING

butsmash.Poppy’ssoftbreathtouchesmyfaceandIbackaway,lockingeyeswithher.

"Thatguywouldn'thavekissedyou,poss."
Thepathwayofherfingersacrossmyarmcomestoahalt."Thatguydidkissmeonce."Sheexhales,

hergazedriftingdowntomymouthbeforeshecloseshereyesandswallows."Besides,itwasjustakiss,
Brandon,"shewhispers.“Justakiss.”

"Thisisyouandme.Thereisno'just'."
"No,you'rewrongthere,Brandon.”Asadsmiletouchesherlips.“We'rejustfriends."
IfrownbecauseIcanpicturethebrokenexpressiononherinnocent,sixteen-year-oldfaceasIuttered

those exact words to her. I can practically feel my chest aching the same way it did then. The guilt
swallowsmebecausewewereneverjustfriends.

IfeltthingsforherthatIhadnorighttofeelbecauseConnorlovedPoppy,andIlovedhim.Itwas

messed up, but even back then I knew he was a better man for her, I knew he deserved her in a way I
never would. My dad always said that I was good for nothing, that I was a waste of oxygen, so even
thoughIwantedher,Isteppedbackandwatcheddestinytakeitscourse.Iwastooselfishtoeverlether
go completely, and every day I felt like the world's biggest prick because I was in love with my best
friend'sgirl.Everyday,IlookedatherandpretendedIfeltnothing,and,inaway,nothinghaschanged.
Connor'sghostismoreofadeterrentthanheeverwas.But…Ican'thelpit.Intheend,wealllost.She
andI,we'reallthat'sleftofsomethingthatwassobeautifulandsofuckingvitaltomysurvival.Ineedher.

"Ilovedyouenoughtobeyourfriend,”Iwhisper.“Evenwhenithurt."
Shegentlytakesmychininherhand,turningmyface.She'sbitingdownonthatdamnlipofhers,her

gazeflittingbetweenmyeyesandmymouth.

"Loved?"shesaysquietly.
"I'vealwayslovedyou,Poppy."Isweepmythumboverherbottomlip."Youbringmepeacewhenall

Iknowiswar."

Andherewesit,staringateachother,lostinwhateverthisisbetweenus,andthen,Poppyleansin

gently placing her lips to mine. A calm washes over me—the kind you get when you’re standing in the
middleofthewoodswhenitsnows.Silent.Calm.Still.Igrabthebackofherneck,pullinghercloser,
needing every part of her. A little voice in the back of my mind is screaming that this is wrong, but
rationalthoughthasgivenwaytothesimpleneedtosurvive,andthat'swhatPoppyfeelslikerightnow:
fuckingsurvival.

Withouther,I'lldrown.
She grips both sides of my face and a soft sob breaks through her lips. Her eyes close when she

touchesherforeheadtomine.We'retrappedinthisswirlingvortexofguiltandanger,twistedloveand
desperateneed.Hersoftfingertipsdriftalongmyjawbeforeherlipstentativelybrushmineagain.Icup
herface,swipingthetearsfromhercheekasIpressmymouthharderoverhers.

The kiss grows into something desperate, as though we're both fusing together while somehow

fracturingapart.Herfingerswindintomyhair,tuggingonthestrands,andI'mnotsureifshe'spullingme
closerorpushingmeaway.Theguilteatsatme,gnawinginthepitofmystomachlikeaparasite.IfIwere
abetterperson,Iwouldpushheraway.IfItrulylovedConnor,surelyIcouldn'tdothis,tohim,toher?
Butshe'stooeasytogetlostin.Whateverslitherofmyworthlesssoulisleft,Iwillhanditovertoher
willingly,forthis...thistinysliceofpeace,afutilesalvation.BeforeIknowit,myhandsaregrippingat
herhipsandI'mshovingherbackontothemattress.Herbodyfeelssosmallbeneathmine,sofragile,and
Icraveherinawaythatfeelslikeinsanity.WhenImovetokissheragain,sheholdsafingertomylips,
haltingme.Hereyescloseonaraggedbreath.Thetranceshatters,and,onceagain,Ifeellikeanarsehole.

"I'm sorry." I drag a hand down my face, shame crawling over me. Poppy is holy ground that I just

desecrated.

"Don'tbe..."Ifeelthemattressdipwhenshestands.Shedoesn'tsayanotherword,justquietlywalks

outofmyroom,closingthedoorbehindher.

There are some things you can never take back, some things that have the potential to be so

destructive...andthisismostdefinitelyoneofthem.

ChapterNineteen

POPPY

“Friends”–EdSheeran

HAT

ELL

I pace in front of the couch with the unmistakable taste of his lips on mine. My head is a jumbled

mess,myemotionsallovertheplace,andtheguilt—theguiltofitisnearlyparalyzing.Connorwouldroll
overinhisgrave.Actually,whenitcomestomeandBrandon,therearealotofthingsConnorwouldroll
overinhisgraveabout.

Ifallbackontothecouch,angryatmyselfbecauseIhavebeenherewithBrandonbefore.
BrandonO’KieffewastheboyIalwayswantedtowantme.Itried,believeme,Itriednottofallfor

him,butthethingis,Iwasalwaysinlovewithhim,Ithink,ifit’spossible,fromthemomentIsawhimon
thatplayground.Andit'sjustnotthatsimpletomakeyourselffalloutoflovewithsomeone.Theheartjust
doesn'tworklikethat.SoIacceptedthatIwouldalwaysbehisfriend,andthatwasbetterthannothing.
Andthen,onenight,ataparty,thewayhelookedatmechanged.Withinthematterofasecond,thetension
betweenusshifted.Snapped.Hetookmebythehand,stumblingasheledmedownthehallandtothe
spareroom.Thesecondheshutthedoor,hegrabbedmeandpinnedmetothewall,kissingmewiththe
type of passion you only see in movies, the kind of passion everyone tells you only exists within the
realms of fiction. It was drunk and it was messy and it hurt, but it was everything I wanted it to be,
becauseitwashim.

There'sabangoverthefrontdoorwhichcausesmetojump."Poppy,it'spouringrain,"Hopeshouts.

"Letmein."Anotherloudthud.

IhearthehingestoBrandon'sbedroomdoorcreakandInearlytripovermyownfeettryingtogetto

thefrontdoortoletHopeinbecauseshe,atthispoint,ismysavinggrace.Iwon'thavetodiscussanyof
thatawkwardnesswithBrandonifsheishere.ThesecondIunlockthedeadbolt;Hopecomestoppling
inside.Mascaraissmudgedbeneathhereyes,herhairinutterdisarray."Ineedparacetamol.Now,”she
groans.“Myheadisgoingtorupture."

"Abovethecooker,"Brandonsays."Inthecabinet."
"Ah,yes.Seasoneddrunksalwayshaveheadachemedicineontheready."Hopepushespastmetothe

kitchen.

IturnaroundandBrandon'sshovingclothesintohisgymbag.Partofmedoesn'twanthimtoleave,

thentheotherpart,well,itcan'twaitforhimtogetoutsoIdon'thavetolookathim.

Hezipshisbag,grabshiskeysfromthecoffeetable,then,withoutaword,leaves,closingthedoor

gentlybehindhim.

"Whatinthehell..."Hopestepsoutfromthekitchen,throwsthepillsinsidehermouth,andswallows.

"What?"
"That."Shepointsatthedoor."Him."Hereyesnarrowonme,andIcanfeelmycheeksheatingwith

embarrassment."You.Thetwoofyou..."Shecovershermouthwithherhand."Oh.My.God."Whenher
handdropsbacktoherside,asmileripplesacrossherface."Youbangedhim,didn'tyou?That'swhatall
thatawkwardnesswasabout,huh?"

"No."Ishootascowlather."Absolutelynot."
"Well,itwouldn'tbethefirsttime..."
"Pleasejustshutup."Istartpasthertothekitchen,butshegrabsmebytheelbow.
"Uh-uh.Comebackhere,possum."Shegiggles.
Ipullawayfromher,gotothekitchen,andgrabaglassofwater.
"Why wouldn't you, anyway?" she says. "Brandon's hot. I mean, have you taken a good look at his

bodylately?"

Mymindveersofftohowdefinedhischestis,howsofthislipsare...hiseyes.Ichugthewaterthen

setthecupinthesink.

"Don'tthinkI'veforgottenabouttheshitIdealtwithfromyouforweeksafterthetwoofyoubumped

uglies back in high school. You were gutted, he was...well, he kinda just disappeared for a while.
Wouldn'ttalktoanyofus.Itwasweird.Kindalikenow...weird."

"Don'tyouhavesomewheretogo?"Icrossmyarmsovermychest,turningtoglareather."Likeback

toIreland?"

Sheshrugs."Nah,that'stheluxuryofbeingtheheiresstoMcGrathWhiskey.Noresponsibility.Tonnes

of money. The inexplicable ability to annoy the piss out of you..." She laughs. "Besides, I quite fancy
London.ThinkImaygetaflathereorsomething.Trytosnagmesomesurlypikey."

"Outstanding,"Igrumble.
"Alright,youknowwhat,let'sgogetournailsdone.Mytreat."
"Idon'twanttogetmynailsdone."She'sonmylastnervealready.
"Comeon,youneedtogetoutofthisscummyflatbeforethemoldsporesgotoyourhead.Nailsthena

walkthroughtheparkorsomething,huh?Promise,notonementionofBrandon'sgenitalstouchingyours."

SIAN

MAN

SHOUTS

SOMETHING

ANOTHER

EMPLOYEE

SCRUBS

OVER

THE

BOTTOM

FOOT

"He'stellingthatotheronehowgrossyourtoesare,youknow?"Hopewhisperswithalaugh."You

should be ashamed of the state they're in, Poppy. I sure hope you didn't screw Brandon with those feet
shoved back by your head. Imagine if he had to stare at the scaggy remains of that one-year old nail
polish."

Irollmyeyes."Yousaidyouwouldn'ttalkaboutgenitals—"
"Isaid,"sheholdsafreshlypainted,pinkfingernailup,"Iwouldn'ttalkaboutthetwoofyou'sgenitals

touching. That was about your feet touching his shoulders while he was crammed up inside you." She
burstintolaughter,butabruptlyfallssilent."Sorry...toomuch?"

Narrowingmygazeindisgust,Inod."Justatouch."
TheAsianmanchucklestohimselfandshakeshishead.
"Look,"Hopesays."Iknowyou'reabitlostandall.Andmaybethis,"sheholdsherhandupgesturing

through the window to the jam-packed London streets, "maybe this is what you need. A new start.
Someplace different." She inhales. "But, Brandon, he's not Brandon, and maybe you can't fully see that.
LikeIsaid,Poppy,it'sobvioushe'shavingissuesdealingwithwhathesaw.Godknowshemust.ButI
cantellyoufromdealingwithSylisthatisnotaroadyouneedtogodownrightnow.Youneedto—"

"Idon'tneedtodoanything."Somethinginsidemesnaps.Mytone'sbitter.Mypulseskyrocketing.
"Hearmeout."Shelookssternlyatme."YouarebothinfragilestatesrightnowandI'mafraidyou'll

bothjustdrowntogether.I'mnotsayingleavehim.Just...I'mgettingaflat...I'venothingbettertodo,stay
with me. At least that way you aren't living in some ratty place with carpet that could be considered
GradeAbiohazardwaste.Brandonhasnoideawhathe'supagainst,andtrustmeonthis,he'sgonnalose
hisshitsoonenough.Youdon'tneedtobedealingwithallthatwhileyou'retryingtogetyourfeetback
underyou."

"Hope, I..." I know it's a disaster waiting to happen with him. His mood swings. My mood swings.

Thattensionbetweenusconstantlyswirling.ButBrandonislikeadrug.Icravehispresence,thathigh,
thewhatifs...

"Justthinkaboutit,okay?"
Iknowshe'sright,ofcourseIdo.Theproblemis,IthinkIwanttodrownwithhim."I'llthinkabout

it."

"Well,meanwhile,whileyou'rethinkingaboutit—whichIdon'tknowwhyyouarethinkingaboutit.

Whywouldn'tyouwanttolivewithme?I'mafuckingdelight..."Shesnortsatherself."There'sthisdoctor
IknowthatworksatHeadleyCourt,Ibangedhimatimeortwo,nottooshabbyeither.Anyway,Ialready
spoketohimandhesaidhecouldgetyouajobasaninpatientnurse."Shesmiles."You'rewelcome."

IknowIneedajob.Ineedsomenormalcy.AndeventhoughHopeisawalkingdisaster,shesomehow

managestopullstuntslikethis."Thankyou,"Isay.

Ijumpwhenthemantrimmingmynailsaccidentallycatchessomeskininhisclippers.Heglancesup

andmouthsSorry.

Hopesscrollingonherphone,somegod-awfulpopsongisplayingoverthesoundsystem,andthen,

forsomereason,Ioutmyself."Hekissedme.Or,well,Ikissedhim.Idon'tknow,wekissed."

"Yeah, figures.” Hope doesn’t even glance up from her phone. “And how did that work out

afterwards?"

Ishrug."Well,yousawhim.Helefttogotothegym."
"Maybe what you need to think about here is what you stand to lose, Poppy. You already lost

Connor..."

My chest tightens. Guilt swallows me. And I start to wonder what kind of person I am. A widow

gettingallgiddyoverkissingmyfirstcrush.Myfirstlove.Hisbestfriend…

"WhathappenswhenitallgoestitsupwithBrandon,huh?Youfuckhim.Youtwostartdabblingin

sometypeoffuckedup,parasiticrelationshipbasedonmourningConnor,andwhenitallfallstopieces,
you'llenduplosingBrandontoo."Shesighs."Notallstrangershavealwaysbeenstrangersyouknow.A
lotofthem,atonepoint,meanttheworldtoeachother."

BAR

PRACTICALLY

EMPTY

WITH

THE

EXCEPTION

ARRY

YAN

AND

—I

TAKE

DEEP

BREATH

—B

RANDON

Ofcourse,hewouldbehere,it'swhereallthealcoholis.

"Helookssobroody,lookathim,"Hopewhispersaswewalktowardthebar."He'sallupsetthathe

kissedyou.Blesshim."

"Wouldyoushutup?"Iswatheraway.
"Fine,"sheholdsherhandupandshrugs."Fine."
"Ah,lookwhatthatcatdrugin,"Larrychucklesfrombehindthecounterandpointstowardus.Kyan

andBrandonbothturnontheirstools.Kyangrins.Brandon,well,heturnsbackaround,grabshisdrink,
anddownsit.

"Brooding..." Hope sings in my ear. This time I shove her away and she nearly trips in her heels.

"Jesus,Poppy,"shegroansasshecatchesherselfononeofthegrimypubtables.

"Andwho'sthisprettylittlethingyou'vebroughtwithyou,Poppy?"Larryasksleaningacrossthebar

top.

"I'mHope,"shesaysbeforeIevenhaveachancetoanswer."I'mherbestfriend."
Brandonsnortsintohisglassbeforetippingitback.
"Wow,it'sbarelymiddayandyou'realreadyatit,"Isay.
"It'sgonetenalready,Poppy.Let'snotpretendmostofDublin'snotgonehalf-drunkbynow."Hope

walksupbehindBrandonandwhackshimontheback."Thattaboy,Brandon."

HeignoresherandIrollmyeyes.
"Ilikeher,"Larrypipesup,grinningather.
Oh,deargod,that'sallIneed,Hopebecomingtheirownpersonalhero.
ShesauntersovertowhereKyanissitting.He,ofcourse,dragshiseyesoverherbodywhenshehops

ontothebarstoolnexttohim."Isecondthat,"hesays,staringatherchest.Hopegrinsathim.

"If you're so opposed to daytime drinking,” Brandon says, “what are you doing here?" He’s still

staringdirectlybehindthebar.

"Hopewantedtogolookatapartments...butsomehow,we'vecomeherefirst."
"Jesus,she'sfuckingstaying?"Hetakesanotherswigofhisdrink.
"Well,”HopenarrowshergazeonBrandon,eyesblazing.“I'mnotleavingherwithyou.Forthelove

ofGod,yourapartmentisdeplorable."

Withthatcomment,Brandonturnsandlooksatme.Iwalkupbehindhim,trailingmyfingersoverhis

shoulders.HetensesundermytouchandIyankmyhandaway.Idon'tevenknowhowtoactaroundhim
now."CanItalktoyouforasecond?"Isay."Alone."

He sighs and pushes to his feet. We walk around the corner of the bar, out of the other’s view. He

turns, folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at me. Brandon suddenly seems to fill the room,
makingmefeelsosmall.

"Talk,"hesays,animositypouringoffhim.Whyishebeinglikethis?It'stimeslikethiswhenIfeel

liketheboyIonceknewistrulylost,notatraceofhimtobefound.

"Hopesaidshe'sgoingtorentaflat.She'sevidentlyboredofIreland..."
"Great."Againwiththehostility.
"Figuredyou'dbesuperexcitedaboutthatone."Ilaugh,butthere'snottheslightestflickerofasmile

onhisface."Anyway,I'mgoingtostaywithher—”

"No.”
Istareathimforamoment.Thetensionrightnowissostrongitfeelsasthoughitispressinginonme

fromallsides,andwhateverthisisgoingonbetweenusistoxic.Iswallow,thencontinue."Shesaidshe
couldgetmeajobatHeadleyCourtandall.Youknow,justagoodwaytostartoverand—”

"No,Possum."Hetakesadeepbreath,unfoldshisarms,andthenslowlyclosesthespacebetweenus.

Towering over me, he grips my chin and lifts my face until my eyes meet his. "No," he says quietly,
sternly.

Hiseyesdroptomylipsjustbeforetheyclose.Mystayingwithhimshouldn'tbeaquestion.Hopeis

right,we'rebothtoomuchofamess.But…Ican'thelpmyselfwithhim.He'sliketheimplodedremainsof
adestroyedplanet,andI'mhislonemoon,orbitinghimfruitlessly,boundbyasimplegravitationalpull.
Andwhatwillbeleftwhenitallcomescrashingdown?HeisapersonthatIcannotlose.

"Ican'tstaywithyoubecauseIdon'twanttoloseyouandif..."Ishiftmygazetothefloor.Thisisall

soawkwardandunplanned.Andwrong.Don'tforgetwrong...

He ducks down, forcing me to look at him. "This is us, Poppy. I literally disappeared and you still

foundme.Youcan'tloseme."There'sjustahintofdesperationinhisvoiceashismossgreeneyesplead
withme.

I place my palm against his chest, watching my fingers as they scratch over his shirt. We're both so

vulnerable.

"I..."Mygazequicklyliftstohismouth,totheperfectdipinthemiddleofhisupperlip."Thereshould

notbean'us',Brandon.YouandI—thereisonlyayouandI..."

"Nomatterwhathappens,you'llalwaysbemybestfriend.Always."
"Always,"Iwhisper.Heleansin,kissingmyforehead.Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisbroadwaistand

inhalethescentofhiscolognethatispermanentlytaintedbyahintofwhiskey.

Mychesttightens.Alittlebitoffearhasmebythethroat.Ishouldhavesaidno,butthetruthis,thisis

whatIwanted.Iwanttostaywithhim.Iwanttobenearhim.IwanthimtoneedmejustasmuchasIneed
him,andthefactthathedoesisterrifying.IlovedConnormorethananythinginthisworld,buthe'sgone,
andhonestly,Idon'tthinkIcansurvivethiswithoutBrandon.He'smylifeline.Healwayshasbeen.We're
bothlostinthemiddleofsomehorriblestormandtheonlywayoutistogether.

ChapterTwenty

BRANDON

“Seaside”–TheKooks

INN

’

ALREADY

WORKING

OVER

THE

SPEED

BAG

WHEN

WALK

INTO

THE

GYM

HANDS

ARE

WRAPPED

GAUZE

HIS

vestsoakedwithsweat.Hesparesmeabriefglancebeforegoingbacktohisworkout.

Istrapmyhandsandhammermyfistsagainstthebagoverandover.Iallowtheviolencetoconsume

me,allowmymindtoslipuntilit'sblinkingthroughtheimagesthathauntme,placingmerightbackinthe
middleofawarscene.Therhythmicsoundofmyfistshittingthebagmorphsintothesteadypop, pop,
pop of gunfire. My legs become unsteady at the memory of explosions vibrating the ground beneath my
feet.Andfinally,theimageofConnor'slifelesseyesstaringatmesurface,andthatisanimagethathas
beenbrandedintomymindinvividdetail.Isqueezemyeyesshutandfocusonit,allowingthepainto
engulfmebecauseIdeserveit,andIneedtofuckingrememberwhat'satstakehere.

Poppyisnotjustsomechick.Hell,Poppyisn'tevenoneofthegirlsthatyouthinkcouldbeakeeper.

She'sPoppyfuckingBlaine.She'sfamily.

"Bran."
IlashoutwhenIfeelsomeonetouchmyshoulder,myhandslamsaroundFinn'sthroat.
Hebringshisarmupandeasilytwistsoutofmyhold.Myheartslamsagainstmyribs.Ican'tbreathe

properly.Hisdarkbrowspinchtogetherinafrownashestaresatme.

"Sorry,"Imumble.
Hefoldshisarmsoverhischest,watchingmelikeahawk."Youfuckedher,didn'tyou?"
"What?No!"
Hetiltshisheadtotheside."Onlytheguiltytorturethemselves."
"I..."Idragahandthroughmyhair."Ikissedher.Ididn'tmeanto."
Heshrugsoneshoulder."Andnowyoufeelguilty."
"Ican'tevenexplaintoyouhowConnorwaswithher."Ishakemyhead."Shewaseverythingtohim

andIbetrayedhim."

"Brandon." I lift my eyes to Finn’s. There's this sadness lurking within them. "He's dead," he says

simply, as though it's justification, as though Connor’s death eliminates my loyalty to him. I don't want
justificationortoberelievedofguilt.

Ifrown,droppingmygazetothefloor."Hewasmyfuckingbrother.Deathdoesn'tchangethat."
He shrugs. "No, but you can't betray the dead. All you can do is live." He turns and walks away,

pickinguphisgymbagonhiswayout.

OPEN

THE

DOOR

THE

APARTMENT

EXPECTING

OPPY

OUT

SOMEWHERE

WITH

OPE

BUT

SHE

NOT

She'ssittingonthesofa,onelegcrossedovertheother.Theblackjeansshe'swearingaretight,her

green blouse slightly see through. My eyes drift to her made up face. Her eyes seem to pop against the
darkeyeshadow,andthebrightredlipstickshe’swearingdoesnothingbutaccentuatehowfullherlips
are.Thewayherwavyhairhangssocarelesslyacrosshershouldersmakesmewanttofistitrightbefore
Ikissher.IhatethatI'mlookingatherthewayIam,butIcan'thelpit.She'sgorgeous.

Inarrowmyeyesatheranddropmybagtothefloor."Youlooknice,"Isay,suspicioninmyvoice.
"Thanks."Shesmiles."We'regoingout."
"Outwhere?"
"Idon'tknowyet."Shruggingoneshoulder,shepushestoherfeet."But,yousmelllikefeet.Gotakea

shower,wouldyou?"

She gently places her hand between my shoulder blades, shoving me towards the hallway. "I smell

likeman,"Imumbleundermybreath,thecommentmakinghersnort.

"Well,thesmellofmanisgross."
Stopping,Iturnaroundandbracemyarmsagainstthewallsofthesmallhallway.Poppyplacesher

handsonherhips,liftsoneeyebrow,andpursesthosebrightredlips.

"Aw, poss. I don't remember you being so prissy." I smile, grabbing her and pulling her against my

sweatychestforahug.

She shrieks. "Let me go! Oh, my God..." She dry heaves. "You smell...Oh, God...something awful.

Death. You smell like dead cat or badger gravy. Better yet, dead cat bathed in badger gravy." She gags
again.

I throw my head back on a laugh and hold her for a second longer while she struggles against me.

WhenIreleaseher,sheglaresatme.

"I'm offended," I say, sniffing as I pull my shirt over my head. Her eyes drop to my stomach for a

secondandIsmirkbeforeIturnintothebathroom.

"You'reoffended?!"shesaysasIslamthebathroomdoorinherface.

MINUTES

LATER

WALK

INTO

THE

LIVING

ROOM

WEARING

PAIR

JEANS

AND

LONG

SLEEVED

TOP

LOOKS

meupanddown,thecornerofherlipcurlingslightly."You'lldo,Iguess."

Onthewayoutthedoor,myeyesdrifttoherarsethosetightjeansaregivingmeaperfectviewof.

Damnit,thisisfuckingPoppy.Poppy!

"Wherearewegoing?"Iask.
Sheglancesbackoverhershoulderatme."Itoldyou,Idon'tknowyet.Just...out."

HATE

PEOPLE

. I

NEVER

USED

. H

ELL

THERE

LOT

THINGS

NEVER

USED

NEVER

USED

DISLIKE

Nowthough,crowdsareanissue.Poppyissittingnexttome,throwingnervousglancesmywayasthe
tubefiresalongthetracks.Isqueezemyeyesshutandtrytoregulatemybreathing.Thewallsofthemetal
tube feel like they are pressing in on me, no doubt, because it’s buried beneath the weight of an entire
fuckingcity.

"Youalright?"sheasks.
"Yep,"Isayquickly.MyfistsclenchsohardthatmyknucklesacheandIcanfeelmyshirtstartingto

sticktomybackfromthesweat.

Shegrabsmyhand,pryingmyfingersapart.Slowly,sherubsherthumboverthecreaseofmysweat

slickedpalm."It'salright..."shewhispers.

Thisshouldn'tevenbeanissue.Peopledothisshiteveryday,buteverythingisonhighalert.Every

instinct I have constantly scans for threats, needing an escape route. The human drive to survive is all
consuming,andwhenyou'vebeeninthekindofplacesIhave,thatinstinctgoesintooverdrive.Everyone
becomes a threat. The most normal situations pose the ability to become hostile in an instant, and the
world as you know it becomes one big test of survival. Only, this isn't war. And it doesn't matter how
manytimesItellmyselfthat,mymindcan'tover-rideinstinct.Mybodycan'tforgetthetrauma.

ThesecondthetubestopsatKnightsbridge,Ipushtomyfeet,tearingmyhandawayfromPoppyand

shoulderingthroughthecrowd.Peopleshoutandcurse,butIdon'tgiveafuck.Idon'tstopuntilIreachthe
streetlevel.Thesmogofthecityairhasneverfeltsoenticing.

"Brandon..."Poppycallsfrombehindmesomewhere.Bythetimeshe'scaughtuptome,she'soutof

breath.

Ismirkather."Youneedtogotothegym."
"Shutup."
Isnort."Okay,youdraggedmeintothisshit-holecity.Nowwhat?"
"Don'tknow.I'mjustsickofthatscummyapartmentandfilthybar."
"I'mgood."Iglareather."Youknow,Ihaveweedandwhiskeyathome..."
Poppyscowlsatme."Youneedfreshair."Shesaysthisjustasadouble-deckerbussputterspast,the

thicksmellofexhaustfillingtheair.

"Sofuckingfresh,"Igrumble."Carbonmonoxidepoisoning...justwhatIalwaysfuckingwanted."
"There'scarbonmonoxideinyourweed,too,dumbass."Shelaughs.
"That'sthegoodkind."Ihuff,glancingupanddownthebustlingstreet.
"Uh-huh.So,whatarewedoing?"
"Jesus, woman. You're the one who dragged my arse out here." There’s a metal bench beside the

railingsthatleaddowntothesubway,andIplopmyarserightdownonit."I'mjustgoingtosithereuntil
youmakeupyourmind."

"Youreallywanttoleavethatdecisionuptome?"Awrysmileworksoverherlips.
"Tellyouwhat,youmakeadecisionandI'lltellyouwhetherI'mcomingwithorfuckinggoinghome."
"TowerofLondon,thenMadameTussaud’s,andTheLondonEye."
"I'mgoinghome."Istandup.Shegrabsmyarmandlaughs.
"Youcan'tleavemehere,"shesays,puttingonthatsadfaceshe'ssodamngoodat.
"Watchme."
"Would a father possum leave his little wee possum behind in the big, scary city where other mean

possumscouldgether?"Shefightsalaugh.

Ipointather."I'mnotdoingthetouristshit.DoIlooklikeasmallJapaneseman?"
She cocks her head to the side and places a finger to her chin, tapping. "I mean..." She squints.

"Kinda..."

"AndI'mnotfuckingcarryingyouaround."
"Ididn'taskyouto,nowdidI?"Shetakesmyhandandbeginstuggingonme.
"I'veheardthatshitbefore."IswearIspenthalfmychildhoodcarryingPoppyaround.Myfeethurt.

Mylegsaretired...Shewasannoyingbutdamn,Icouldnevertellherno.AndIwasalwaystwicethe
sizeofConnor...andhewasfat.MaybeIshouldhavemadehimcarryher,he'dhavelostafewpounds.

"Comeon,we'venotgoneanddonethisstuffsincewewerekidsinschool."
"Fine.Butnotthewaxshit.NooneneedstoseeastilllifeofBritneySpears."
"Oh,butthat'sthebest.IheartheyhaveJustinBiebernow,allcoveredinawaxysweat."
"I'dratherwipeaghostchilionmyballbag."
Shefrowns."Whatisghostchili?"
"YouneedtowatchmoreYouTube.Hottestchiliintheworld."

Rolling her eyes, she sighs. "Ghost pepper. It's called ghost pepper." She drags me down the

sidewalk,weavingbetweenallthefuckingtouristsstandingaroundwithmapsintheirfaces.

"Peppersaresweet.Chiliburns.It'safuckingchili."
"Pepper."
"I'llbuyyousome,andyoucantellmeifyouthinkit'sachiliorapepper.Oneoftheguysordered

somewhenwewerelastinBastian,asajoke.Ishatthroughtheeyeofaneedleforfuckingdays.”

"You’redisgusting,youknowit?”
Inod.WecometoazebracrossingandIfeelalightjabontheshoulder.WhenIturnaround,there’sa

smallAsianmanmakingstrangehandgesturesandholdinghiscameraupinfrontofme."See,thisiswhy
youdon'tcometocentralLondon."Isigh.

Poppyelbowsmeinthesideandsmilesdownathim."Youwantustotakeyourpicture?"
ThemanjuststaresatherandIthrowmyheadback,lettingoutanexasperatedgroanasIstareatthe

sky.

"Okay," Poppy takes the camera. "Now just, step back a little. You’ll want the Harrod's sign in the

pictureandIcan'tquitegetitall."

Hesayssomething.Ihavenoideawhatitis,andPoppyjustsmilesandnods.
"Okay,um...."
And this goes on for ages and ages and ages. Poppy, being Poppy, spends the next fifteen minutes

tryingtocommunicatewithamanwhohasnofuckingcluewhatshe'sonabout,nomatterhowmanyhand
gesturesshemakesorhowloudlyshespeaks.Fuckmylife.Hestandsagainstthewindowandshesnaps
five-fucking-hundredpictures.

Whenshehandsthecameraback,hesmilesandmotionsherin.Thenhehugsher.Heglancesatme,

thentohiscamerabeforeshufflingtowardme.Itakeafewstepsback.

"Here.Youtake..."Hestartsopeningandclosinghishands.Heeitherwantsmetotakeapicture,or

he'sdoingarenditionof“Twinkle,TwinkleLittleStar”.Isighandtakethecamerafromhim,snapping
onepicturewhenPoppystillhashermouthopenbeforeIhanditbacktohimandgrabherarm,dragging
heraway.

"Hewasnice,"shesays.
"Weren'tyouevertaughtstrangerdanger?Jesus,you'lltalktobloodyanyone."Istartwalkingdown

thestreetandcrosstheroadatthezebracrossing.

"TheTowerofLondonisthatway..."
"I'mnotfuckinggoingtotheTowerofLondonanddoingthetouristbullshit.I'lldotheNaturalHistory

Museum."

"Youwanttogotoamuseum?"
"Ilikethedinosaur,"Igrumble.
Shelaughsandloopsherarmthroughmine."Okay.Dinosaursitis."
Bythetimewewalkthemileorsotothemuseum,hercheekshaveflushedarosyredfromthecold

autumn wind. I pay the admission to get in, and then we're standing in front of a massive dinosaur
skeleton.

We once came on a school trip here, and another time, Connor's parents visited London for a long

weekend and brought me along to keep him company. Whenever we came here there was always
somethingsograndaboutit.Ican'treallyexplainit,butwhenyou'restandinginfrontoftheremnantsofa
creaturethatismillionsofyearsoldandprobablyfivetimesthesizeofanelephant,yousuddenlyfeel
verysmall.Soincrediblyinconsequential.Iguessit'shumbling.Eitherway,Iwasalwaysfascinatedby
thisplace.

Ascreamingchildgoeshurtlingpastme,aballoontrailinginitswakeasastressedlookingguyruns

afterit.Poppysmilesasshewatchesthekidruncirclesaroundthepoorman.

"Imissbeingthatlittlesometimes,youknow?"Poppysays,hergazestillgluedtothekid.
"Yep.Noresponsibilities,freefood,andyoucanevenshityourselfandsomeoneelsewillcleanitup

foryou."Ismirk.

Sherollshereyes."Youaresuchaboy."
Icockabrow."Allman,sweetheart."
"Ohmygod,comeon."ShemarchesawayfrommeandIfollowafterher,laughing...andstaringather

arse.Ineedtostopdoingthat.

Sheaimlesslywandersaroundtheroomuntilshefinallystopsinfrontofthebutterflydisplay.
"Kindofharsh,"Isay,lookingatallofthemlifelesslypinnedtoaboardandencasedbehindglass,all

sothatpeoplecanadmiretheirprettywings.Hundredsofthemalllinedupinrows.

Poppyshrugs."Itis,butthenagain,lifeisharsh,isn'tit?"
"Yeah,butit'snotsupposedtobeforabutterfly.Damn.Don'ttheyonlygetafewmonthsanyway?And

beforethatthey'reagrosscaterpillar."Ishrug.

"Maybemonthsareyearstobutterflies,whoknows.Qualityoflifenotquantityanyway…"Sheturns

fromthecase,stoppingtoturnandlookatme."Comeonthen,"shesaysandholdsoutherhand.

Istareatitforasecondbeforetentativelythreadingmyfingersthroughhers.Itfeelsstrange,andyet,

thesimpletouchgroundsme.Thecrowdsaroundmeseemalittlelessthreatening,thenoisesquieter.She
brings me back to the here and now, physically forcing everything else from my mind. It seems
impossible,andyet,hereweare.

ChapterTwentyOne

POPPY

“Fear”–BlueOctober

CAB

SPUTTERS

STOP

FRONT

HIS

FLAT

"It'llbethirty-fivequid,"thedriversays.Itakemoneyfrommypurseandgotoslideitthroughthe

partition,butBrandongrabsontomyshoulder.Hehandsmoneytothedriver,shootsmeasmile,andthen
webothclimboutontothesidewalk.Apassingcarhonksattheblackcabasitpullsbackontotheroad.

"Youknow,wecouldhavetakenthetube,"hesays.
"Iwantedtotakeacab.Strangerdangerandall."Ismileaswemakeourwaytothefrontdoor.
TodaywasthefirsttimeI'veseenBrandonoutinpublic,outofthecomfortzoneofhisflatandthat

rundown bar. Being surrounded by that many people bothered him, I could see it in his expression, his
bodyposture.Hisshouldersstayedrigid,hisjawtense.Anylittlemovementfromsomeonenexttohim
caused his eyes to wander. He was on edge. Like his flight or fight response was in overdrive, and it
mademefeelguiltyforinsistinghegoout.TherewasnowayinhellI'dforcehimbackonthattube,but,I
didn'twanthimtoknowIrealizedhewasuneasy.

I don't know why, but I think it may embarrass him. It shouldn't, but Brandon never could handle

anyonethinkinghehadaweakness.

Ifollowhimuptotheapartmentdoor.Heputsthekeyinthelock.Thedoorswingsopen.Everything

isfine.It'sfineuntilthesecondthatdoorclosesbehindusandwe'restandinginhislivingroom.Alone.
NoHope.NoKyan.NosmallJapaneseman.Justhimandme.Andthatever-presentpull…

Herubshishandoverthebackofhisneck."Doyouwanttowatchafilm?"
"Sure." I nod, throw my purse onto the floor, then fall back onto the couch, trying my hardest to

pretendlikethisisallokay.Thisisnormal.Itwasnormal…

HetakeshisphoneoutandhandsittomewiththeNetflixapponthescreen."Picksomething,"hesays

beforewalkingintothekitchen.Heopensthefridgeandtakesoutabeer,poppingthetopwithhisteethas
hecomesbackintotheroom.Heholdsthebottleouttome.Ishakemyheadandturnmyattentiontothe
phoneinmyhand,scrollingthroughtheselection.Stardust, Pirates of the Caribbean, Charlie and the
ChocolateFactoryand..."Hey,Brandon?"

"Yeah."
"Howdoyoufeelaboutaclassic?"
"Yeah, sure." He shrugs, tipping the beer bottle back and swallowing. My eyes focus on the slight

stubble covering his throat, his Adam's Apple moving as he chugs his drink. My eyes widen when he
catchesmestaringathim.Hewipesthebeerfromhismouthwiththebackofhishandashewalksoverto
thecouchandplopsdown,kickinghisheelsupontotheedgeofthecoffeetable.

IselectTitanicfromthemenu,gigglingtomyselfasIwaitforthemovietostart.
The soft crooning of the woman humming the song "My Heart Will Go On" accompanies the sepia-

coloredfilmofpeoplewavingasalargeshipcomesintoview.

"Oh,fuck,no.Anythingbutthis,"hegroans.
"Oh,comeonnow.Youneverwouldwatchthiswhenwewereyounger."
"Yeah,becauseI'dratherspendintimatetimewiththatfuckingghostpepper...again."
"Really?"Iscowlathim."It'sanepiclovestory,whodoesn'tloveanepiclovestory?It'sthisorThe

NotebookbecauseIamnotwatchingDieHard."

"Leonardo-fucking-Dicaprio,orBruceWillis.Nocomparison."
"YoutoldmeIcouldpick..."
"YoupickedthisbecauseyouknowIhateit."
"Iwenttoseethedinosaursforyou."
"Fuckme.Fine,butifIfallasleephalfwaythroughit'sbecauseyouwanttowatchanentirefucking

filmaboutaboatsinking.A.Boat.Sinking.It'snotevenlikeitgotblownup.Someguyjustdroveintoan
iceberg."Heshakeshishead.

"It'stragic."IsmileasIpathimontheknee."It'shistory."
"Tragicwasteofmytime,"hegrumbles,sippingonhisbeer.
"Shhh."Ipressmyfingeroverhislipsandheglaresatme.
Andherewesit,watchingamovieI'veseenfiftytimes.Thisisnotunlikeanythingwe'vedonebefore,

butitisdifferent.There'sthattension.Everysooftenhemoves,hishandbrushingagainstmysideormy
leg.IinchalittlecloserthanIshould.There'samixtureofexcitementandfearandguilt.Icanremember
countless nights spent on the sofa watching films with Connor. He would hold me, and I never thought
anything of it. But isn't that the way we feel about most things we take for granted? I never truly
appreciatedhowspecialitwasuntilnow,becausenowImissit.Imissthateasinessofjustbeingwith
someone,ofbeingheldandtouched.AndBrandonmakesmewantthat—inwhatcapacity,I'mnotsure.

I'mtryingmybesttofocusonthescreen,watchingasJackandRosewadethroughtherisingwatersof

thesinkingship."Shesayshisnametoomuch,"Isay.

"WecanwatchDieHard."
"Nope.Iconsiderthisanaccomplishment,forcingyoutowatchthis."
"Fine."Hegrabsmeunderthearmsandyanksmeacrossthecouchlikeachild,settlingmebetween

his thighs. His chin rests on my head, and for a moment, I remain tense, but he's so warm and big and
just...Brandon.Irelaxagainsthissolidchest,andeventhoughI'mlookingatthescreen,myentirefocusis
on him. I listen to every breath. In and out. I feel the steady beat of his heart against my back. I allow
myselftobecomeimmersedinhimuntilIfeellikenothingoutsideofthiscantouchme.Andthepainand
thegriefandthehurt—italljustdriftsaway.Brandonismyownpersonalcocoon,andIwanthimtoturn
mefromanuglycaterpillarintosomethingbeautifulandfree.

Bytheendofthemovie,I'msobbing.IsitupandwipethetearsfrommyfacewhileBrandonstaresat

melikeI'msomeanimalinazoo.

"Youareactuallycryingoverthat?"heaskswithasmirkonhisface.
"Yes.It'sterrible."
"Yet…youwanttowatchit?"Thatsmirksmorphsintoagrin.
"It'sgood."
"Shecouldhavegivenhimhalfofthatdooryouknow."
"True."
"Kindadumbifyouaskme,"hesaysashestandsfromthecouchandstretches.
"Thedoorwouldhavesunkhadheclimbedonthere.Itwouldhavebeentoomuchweight."
"Hedies."

"He sacrificed his life for her." I glare at him. "Had they both lived, it wouldn't have been an epic

lovestory.Someonealwaysdiesinepiclovestories,Brandon.Don'tquestionit."

Heholdsuphishandslikehe'ssurrendering."Fine,poss.Whateveryouwanttobelieve."Hestarts

downthehalltothebathroom.

Istandandmakemywaytothebedroom,leavingthedooropen.Iquicklychangeintoat-shirt,climb

intothebed,andsinkunderneaththeblankets.Thetoiletflushes,thetapsturn.Myheartbangsagainstmy
ribs.Mypalmsgrowsweaty.Thehingestothebathroomdoorcreakandhisshadowstretchesacrossthe
hallway.

"Brandon?"
Hestepstothedoorofthebedroomandthelightsilhouetteshisframe."Yeah?"
"Canyou..."Ihesitate."Justcomelayinherewithmeforalittlewhile?"
Hetakesadeepbreathandrubshishandoverhisface,tiltinghisheadback.There’salongmomentof

silencebeforehelowershishead,hisgazemeetingmine."Whatarewedoing,Poppy?"

Sittingup,Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyshins.WhatamIdoing?Ihonestlydon'tknow.AllIknowis,in

some ways this feels wrong, but in so many others it's right. And I don't want to overthink the
consequencesortheimplications.

"Idon'tknow,"Iwhisper.
Hepropshisarmsagainsteithersideofthedoorframe.Themovementpullshisshirttightacrosshis

thickchestandIcan’tseemtodragmyeyesawayfromhim."Youdon'twantmesleepingwithyou,poss,"
hesays,ahintofsadnesslacinghisvoice.

"Please?"
There'sabeatofsilencebeforehenodsslowlyandstepsintotheroom.Afissureofuneasecrawls

throughmystomachashestripsoutofhisshirtandliesontopofthecomforter.Spreadinghisarmswide,
hepullsmeagainsthischestandIgowillingly,hisscentengulfingme.

"Justforalittlewhile,"hewhispersintomyhair.
"Justforalittlewhile..."
Hiswarmhandcupsmyface.Hischestrisesandfallsinunevenswellsbeneathmycheek.Thisisn't

complicated.It'ssimpleneed—theneedtohavesomeone,tobeloved,eveninthemostinnocentofways.

ChapterTwentyTwo

BRANDON

“OpenYourEyes”–SnowPatrol

CAN

HEAR

AROUND

THE

THUNDER

GUNFIRE

THE

SNAPPING

BULLETS

CRACKING

THROUGH

THE

AIR

There's a hoarse cry beside me. I glance to my left just as my Sargent hits the ground clutching his
thigh.Bloodwellsaroundhisfingers.Grittinghisteeth,hethrowshisheadbackagainstthemoundof
mud we're using for cover. My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I can barely breathe. Someone
behindmeisshouting,radioingforairsupport.ImanagetotieatourniquetaroundthetopofSerg's
thigh, and once it's secure, I pop up, staring down the sights of my rifle. There's a small cluster of
buildings about a hundred yards away, and it's there that the enemy are taking cover. We're firing
blind.

IheartherumbleofthejetonthehorizonlongbeforeIseeit.Andit'sthenthatIseeawomanrun

outofahouse,achildclutchedinherarms.Sheducksbehindabuilding,butIalreadyknowit'stoo
lateforher.

Thesoundofthepilot'svoicecracklesovertheradio,andthenthejetsplitstheairoverheadatthe

exact time as the entire area erupts into a ball of fire. I drop down beside the Serg just as the heat
waveripplesoverus.Andthenthere'snothingbutthesoundoffireanddestructionandthescreaming
insidemyownmind.

Igaspawake,sittingboltuprightasIdragairintomylungs.Ittakesmeasecondtofocusproperly,

but when I do, I see Poppy sitting up, huddled on the edge of the mattress and staring at me. My pulse
clangs against my eardrums. My muscles tremble under false stress. Even though the sheets beneath me
aresoakedinsweat,ashiverworksovermydampskin.

"Youokay?"sheasks.
Igiveherajerkynodandswipemyhandthroughmyhair."DidIhurtyou?"Myvoiceisbarelyabove

awhisperbecauseI'mterrifiedoftheanswer.AllIcanthinkaboutisthatfirstnightshefoundme,whenI
wokeupwithmyarmacrossherthroat.

"No..."Shepauses."Youscaredme."Shehangsherheadforwardand,whenshedoes,astraypiece

of hair falls in front of her face. I catch myself wanting to push that strand behind her ear. We sit in
silence,andIsqueezemyeyesshutasItrytoshakethelastremnantsofthedream.

"Brandon."Herfingertipsbrushalongmyjaw.Iopenmyeyes,andshe'ssittinginfrontofmeonher

knees,herhandcuppingmycheek.Thestreetlightoutsidecastsanorangeglowoverherface,makingthe
greyofhereyesappeartosmolder.

"Are you okay?" she repeats. A small frown line sinks into her forehead as her eyes search mine.

"Comehere.”Sheliesbackonthebed,takingmedownwithheruntilmyheadisrestingonherstomach.I

inhalethescentofher:vanillamixedwithsomethingfloral.It'sjustPoppy."It'sokay,"shewhispers,and
thesoftnessofhervoicemakesmewanttobelieveher.Iwanttobelievethattherewillbeanendtothis,
thateventuallyIwillbeabletostoprelivingthesamefuckingwareverynight."Doyourememberthat
timewhenwewentshrimpingintheharborandIfellin?"

Ilaugh."Yeah."
She fell off the old jetty because the wood was rotted. Honestly, it was dangerous as fuck, but we

werefourteen,wedidn'tcare.We'dsnuckout,anditwasalmostmidnight.Thewaterwaspitchblackand
Jesus,shefuckingscreamedwhenshewentin.Ithoughtshewashurtuntilshestartedshriekingthatthe
shrimpweregoingtogether.ConnorandIlaughedsohardwecouldn'tevenhelpher.Shewassavage.

"YouwerealwaystheonetorescuemewhenIneededit."Sheslowlyrakesherfingersthroughmy

hair,hertouchsosoothingIhavenochoicebuttoclosemyeyes.

"Wasn'tCon'sfaulthewasfat."Ismirk.
"Hewasjustwellpadded,"shesays,asmileinhervoice.
Connor was the chubby kid that none of the girls ever looked at. Poppy though, she adored him

becausehewaskindtoherwhennooneelsewas.ButIwasalwaystheonetorescueher.Ibeattheshit
outofDavieLoganwhenhepulledherhairandmadehercryonetime.Iwarnedoffhalfofmyfriendson
the rugby team who were forever making eyes at her. For years, she was like my little sister...until
suddenly,shewasn't.Farfromit.She'sstillthegirlthat'stoogoodformethoughandstillmybestfriend.

So,Iletherstrokemyhair.Iletherholdme,becauseit'swhatPoppydoes,shecomfortsandsoothes.

Shetakesinlittlebirdswithbrokenwingsandtriestofixthemandwhenshecan't,shecries.

AndIhateitwhenshecries,soforamoment,I'llpretendthatshecanfixme,thatshecanmakemefly

again,eventhoughwebothknowshecan't.

ChapterTwentyThree

POPPY

“GodofWine”–ThirdEyeBlind

WEEKS

LATER

…

ONNOR

FINGERS

SKIM

WAIST

DANCING

UNDERNEATH

SHIRT

. I

SMILE

. I'

MISSED

HIM

HIS

TOUCH

way this feels. It's just a dream, Poppy. His warm lips kiss the crook of my neck and his arm wraps
aroundmywaist,tuggingmybodyflushwithhis.MyeyesflutterandIfighttoremainasleep.Idon'twant
toletthatdreamgo,itfeelssoreal.Soright.Soneeded.Icanstillfeelhishandsonme,hislips...

My eyes pop open just as Brandon groans against my throat. He shifts in the bed, his hold on me

tightening. "Don't," he mumbles, his breathing is deep and uneven with sleep. "Don't leave me..." he
whispersbeforehislipspressagainstthetopofmyshoulders.

NothinghashappenedbetweenussincethedayIwenttogetmynailsdonewithHope.Thetension

has been nearly unbearable, awkward at times, but he and I both know what it's like to cross that line.
Sometimesit'sbettertowonderwhatsomethingwouldbelikethantoknow...

ButIlongforthatconnection.I’mstarvedofit.Sex.Attraction.Need.Adeepbreathrustlesthrough

Brandon'slips,blowingacrossmyskin.Chillbumpsscatterovermybody,thatundeniableurgesettling
betweenmythighs.Guiltperchesonmychest.AndhereIam,uncertainofwhatexactlyitisIshouldfeel
the guiltiest about: dreaming of Connor while lying in Brandon's bed, or lying in Brandon's bed and
dreamingofConnor.

Ilovethemboth.Ialwayshave.
HopesaysConnorisdeadasthoughthatshouldsomehowjustifymyfeelingsforBrandon,alleviate

theguilt,butitdoesn't.Ifanything,deathsimplyimmortalizesaperson.Ittakeseverythingtheywereand
preservesitinstone,leavingthemuntouchableandincomparableforeternity.ButBrandonandIarenot
frozeninstone.We'rehere,living,breathing.We'rewhat'sleft.

Ibitedownonmylip,turninginthebedtofacehim.Thesmallestamountoflightfromthestreetlamp

tricklesinthroughthewindowand,foramoment,IjustwatchBrandonsleep.There'ssomethingintimate
about watching someone you care so deeply for sleep. His eyelids flutter. His nostrils flare, and he
quickly rolls onto his back. His chest peaks and dips unevenly. I can literally see him fighting those
dreamsthatseemtohaunthimmorenightsthannot.AndallIwanttodoistakethatawayfromhim.His
faceflinches,andI'mtornwithwhethertowakehimornot.Helookssoinnocentandvulnerable,andthe
waytheshadowssettleoverhisface,overtheindentationofhischest...Iswallow,inchingclosertohim.I
justwanttotouchhim…justforamoment.

Itrailmyfingertipsoverhiswarmarm,alonghisside,overhispossumtattooasIleanoverhisface.

"Iloveyou,"IwhisperbecauseIwanthimtoknow,butonlyinhissubconscious,andthat'swhereheis
rightnow...lostwithintherealmofhissubconscious.I’msoclosetohim,theheatofhisskinrippinginto
mesodeepthatIcan’tresistbuttopressmylipsgentlyoverhis,myhandsweepingalonghisjaw.

Idon'tknowwhatI'mdoing.I'mscaredandconfused.Uncertain.Andjustasthatfeargripsmebythe

throat, just when I'm about to move away from him, his hand flies to the back of my neck, his fingers
tanglinginmyhairashislipspartbeneathmine,hishotbreathrushingoverme.

Hetugsmeclose,onearmwindingtightlyaroundmywaistashepullsmeflushagainsthissolidbody.

Mymindandbodygotowar,rationalitybattlingagainstabasicprimalneed.Inthismoment,Ineedthe
wayhe'smakingmefeel.

His fingers slide beneath my shirt, splaying across the small of my back. Heat seeps from his palm

into my skin and I drag a desperate breath into my lungs. The second my lips part, his tongue sweeps
againstmine,ignitingsomethingraw,somethingthathasbeenglaringlyabsentsincethelasttimehekissed
me.It'sasthoughhewrapshimselfaroundmylonelysoulandnursesitbacktolifewiththesplintered
remnantsofhisown.HetiltsmyheadbackandkissesmeuntilIdon'tknowwherehestartsandIbegin,
andIdon'twanthimtostop.Iwanttoholdontothiswarmth,tohim,butcanIreally?Ishereallyaman
anyonecanholdonto?

Ibreathlesslyripmylipsawayfromhis,butI’mstillpressedagainsthim.Andthroughthedarkness,

westareateachother.

"Brandon,I..."
"Shush,poss."Hedragsmedownontohischestandplaceshispalmagainstmycheek,holdingmeso

tight.Ifeelhislipsbrushmyhairandhisarmaroundmywaisttightensbeforeherelaxesbeneathme.

Afewminuteslater,andhisbreathingevensout.He'sfallenasleep,leavingmeverymuchawake.
AndhereIlie,inthestillandquiet,myfingerstracingoverhistattoos,andallthatIcanthinkishow

muchIwanttolovehim.

ONCE

THEY

ARE

DISCHARGED

YOU

JUST

FILL

THIS

OUT

HERE

..."I

WATCH

ORIS

TYPE

NOTE

INTO

THE

BOTTOM

oftherecord."Thenyouhitsubmitandyou'redone."Sheglancesupfromthecomputerandsmiles.

MyfeetarekillingmefromrunningaroundHeadleyCourtallday.Todaywasmysecondday,andI

alreadyknowaboutDoris’threeestrangedhusbands,twochildren,andmorethanIneedtoknowabout
herfantasiesregardingTomHardy.

I'mgladtobeworkingagain,thankfulforthesenseofpurpose,butit'sgoingtobeanadjustment.So

manyoftheguysthatcomeinhereremindmeofBrandon.Wounded,hurting,angry.You'dbesurprisedat
thenumberPTSDcandoonaperson.Itchangestheirtemperament,theirpersonality.Somanyofthose
menhavegonethroughadivorcebecausetheirwivescan'tmanageit.Anditmakesmefeelbadforthem.
FromlivingwithBrandontheshorttimeIhave,Idounderstandthestrain.Theworry.Thefear...

Sometimes Brandon's up and I think maybe, maybe this will be the day everything changes. Maybe

he's snapped out of it. He's the old Brandon and that damned war has relinquished its hold on him, but
thenhegoesdown.Andhard.Andatthosetimes,Iseenowayout.Thedarknessisallconsuming,the
nightmares,theanger.It'sawhirlwindofemotions,apendulumofmoods.Backandforth.Anditcantake
itstollonaperson.

"Nottoobad,huh?"Dorisasks,grinning.
"No,prettystraightforward."
Sheglancesatherwatch."Well,timeforyoutogo,dear,unlessyouwanttogoplayBingowithme

andMarytonight?"

Ilogoffthecomputerandgrabmypursefrombehindthedesk."Thanks,butI’lltakearaincheck."

Shewavesmeoff."You'reayounggirl.Gotmuchbetterthingstodothanplaybingowithalotofold

birds."

"Doris..."
Shewinksatme."Besides,"shegrabsherhandbagandpullsoutashinysilverflask,"Iliketohitthe

bottle hard on a Friday night. I get a bit rowdy. Don't know if you're ready for all that yet. Now, Tom
Hardyontheotherhand…"awildgrinstretchesacrossherface.

Ilaugh,wavingasIheadoutintothehallway.Thesun'sstartingtogodownandtheovercastskyhas

donelittletowarmthedayupatall.AsmallshiverworksovermeasIwrapmyarmsaroundmywaist
andwalkalongthesidewalk,mymindgoingoverthepatientsImettoday—especiallyDavidBrighton.So
muchofhisstoryremindsmeofBrandon.Mr.Brightonlosthisbestfriendtoaroadsidebomb.Hewas
the one survivor. And he is angry. He shouted at one of the nurses today because she "glared" at him.
Doris said everyone hates when he comes in because he's so grumpy, but to me, I see something
underneathallthatangerandsadness.Maybeit'sbecauseIseeBrandondeepintheresomewhere,Idon't
know.ButI'mdeterminedtomakethatmansmileatsomepoint.

Ithink,maybeI'llseeifBrandonwantstogoouttoeattonight.MaybeinviteHope,justtowatchthe

twoofthemgoatit,butthesecondIopenthedoortotheapartment,allIcanfeelistension.Brandonsits
on the sofa, staring at the ground with his legs spread and elbows resting on his thighs. A bottle of
whiskeyisclutchedinonehand.Hedoesn'tevensparemeaglance,notwhenIclosethedoor,orwhenI
dropmykeysloudlyonthecounter.Iclearmythroat.Stillnothing.

"Brandon."
He lifts his head and glares at me. There’s a small gash on his cheek, blood seeping from the fresh

wound.Hiscold,flateyesremainlockedwithmineasheliftsthewhiskeytohislipsandswallowsback
severalheavygulps.Hedropsthebottleonthetableandittopplesover.

"Hey,poss,"heslurs,fallingbackintothecouchcushions.
Andthis...isdown.Waydown.He'sdrankmostofthatbottle.Icantellbytheglazedoverlookinhis

eyeshe'smorethandrunk.Andjudgingbythestateofhisface,he’sjusthomefromafight.Everysingle
timehecomesbackfromafighthe'sangryandhedrinks.Andwhenhegetslikethis,thereisnothingthat
canshakethatragefromhim.Ithangsaroundhisshoulderslikeaheavywoolcloak.And,dareIsay,at
timesIbelievehebasksinit.I'vetiptoedaroundthistopicaslongasIcan.Thosefightsarenogoodfor
him.Itonlymakeshissituation,whateverthatis,worse.

I snag the bottle of whiskey from the table and scowl at him before heading into the kitchen and

tossing the bottle into the trash. I can feel him watching me. When I come out of the kitchen his eyes
narrow."That'srealfuckinghelpful,"hesays,laughinghumorlessly.

"Brandon, please tell me you realize you have a problem? That—" I point to the trashcan—"is

helpful."

"Jesus,Poppy."Hethrowshisheadbackanddragsahandoverhisface."Allyoudoisfuckingbitch."
"BecauseIcareaboutyou,Brandon.Andthis....thishasgottostop."
"Thisisaone-wayroad,possum."Hepushesoffthesofa,walkingstraightpastmewithoutasmuchas

a backward glance. From here, I can just make out the grin sneaking over his face when he opens the
kitchendrawer—theonewherehekeepshisweed.

“Nope.Nope.Nope.”Istormintothekitchen,grabthecollarofhisshirt,andyankhimawayfromthe

counter,slammingmyhipagainstthedrawerandnearlyclosinghishandinit."Youdon'tneedit."

There'sasparkofangerinhiseyesasecondtoolate.Hetakesastepforward,grabbingmebythe

waistandslammingmeagainstthefridge.Itrocksback,everythinginsidejostlingwhenithitsthewall
then settles on the floor again with a bang. I brace my palm against his chest, his quickened heartbeats
poundingagainstmyhand.

My breath falters in my lungs and my pulse thrums in my temples. I can feel the tension ingraining

itselfineveryoneofhismuscles.

"Brandon,letmego,"Iwhisper."Please."Iswallow,tryingtostillmyracingheart,butinthebackof

mymindthere'sthatdarkvoicewhisperingthatthisisthatpartofBrandonIdonotknow.ApartofhimI
can'tfullytrust.Apartofhimthatactuallyscaresme.

Thatwrysmiletoucheshislips,andforasplitmoment,he'salmosttheBrandonIrecognize,buthe's

buriedbeneathsomuchangerandhatredthatit'ssohardtoseehim.

Heleanscloseenoughthathiswarmbreathsblowacrossmyneck,hislipsbrushmyearlobe."Isn't

thiswhatyouwant,Poppy?"There'sacrueledgetohiswordsthatIhate,andalthoughIdon'tbelievefor
asecondthathewouldhurtme,he'smakingmenervous.

Myheartslamsviolentlyagainstmyribs,andasmuchasIdon'twanttosayit,Imust."You'rescaring

me,Brandon."

Hisgazenarrowsashiseyessearchmine.Afteramoment,ahardbreathblowsthroughhisnose.To

me,it'sobvioushe'shavingtomakeaconsciousefforttoloosenhisgriponme.Squeezinghiseyesshut,
he drops his chin. Neither of us move. And when he finally lifts his face and looks at me, his eyes are
swirlingwithastormofemotionsjustwaitingtohit.ButthatstormisonethatIhavenoideaofwhenor
whereitwillstrike.

Hisforeheadtouchesmineandheholdsmycheekinhishand,breathingmeinasthoughI'mthevery

oxygenheneedstosurvive,andthen,hekissesme.Iexpecthisviolenceandhisanger,hishateandfuryto
transfer with this kiss, but it doesn't. This kiss is almost reverent, forcing me to feel as though I'm
everythingtohim.

"I'msorry,"hewhispersagainstmylips,hishandstremblingastheystrokeovermycheeksanddown

thecolumnofmythroat.

I search his eyes for something, for some answer as to why everything has become such a mess, so

difficult."It'sokay..."Iswallow,mygazedriftingdowntohislips.Ifindmyselfwantinghimtokissme
againbecauseIwantthecomfortIfindinhim.IwantBrandontomakemeforgeteverythingthatisn'tthis
exactmoment.Justhimandme.Andevenifmymindisscreamingatmethatit'swrong,myheartknows
Brandon,mysoulrecognizeshimasapartofmethatIsodesperatelyneed.AndthatiswhyInowfind
myselfinchingtowardhim,mylipsbrushingagainsthis,kissinghim.

Hisfingersdigintomywaistandheliftsmeup,andIwrapmylegsaroundhiships.Thekissgrows

moreintense,morepassionate.Hisfingerstangleinmyhairandwebumpintothewallashecarriesme
downthehallway,ourlipsneverparting.Webangintothedoorframeofhisbedroom,andshortlyafter
that,Ilandonhisbed,thespringstothemattresssqueakingwhenhefallsontopofme.

Brandontearshismouthawayfrommine,staringintenselyatmeashecagesmeinwithhismassive

arms.Themusclesinhisjawtenseashisexpressiongrowstorn.Hecloseshiseyesandhangshishead.
"Notlikethis,"hesaysonapainedgroan.

Shame washes over me. I attempt to shove him off me, but he doesn't budge, only lowers his face

inchesfrommine,hiseyesstillclosed."IwantyoumorethanIhaveeverwantedanythingoranyonein
mylife.Butyoudeservebetterthanmydrunkarse.Notlikethis,"hegrowlsthewords.

Idon’tcarethathe’sdrunk.Ijustwanttobehissanctuary,theplacehegoeswhenthedemonsgettoo

real. Whatever this is, it's powerful in ways that cannot be explained or rationalized. He's drunk and
haunted,andIwanthimtotakemedownwithhim.

"Iwantyou."It'sallIcansay.
Hegritshisteethandwhenhiseyesflashopen,thestormhasarrived.Iwanttobesweptupinhis

winds.Iwanthisdestructionandhisvolatilewrath.Icraveit."Sayitagain,"hetellsmeashetakesthe
bottomofmyshirtinhishand.

"Iwantyou..."
Slowly,heliftsthematerial,hisfingersskimmingmyskinandleavingtinglesintheirwake.Iliftmy

headashepullstheshirtoveritandthrowsittothesideoftheroom,andIliehere,thedarknessswirling
around me. A nearly silent groan slips through his lips as his eyes glide over my half naked body.
Although there's something so reverent in the way he's looking at me, there's an undercurrent of primal
need and brutality swimming between us. That pull is so strong it nearly makes me drunk, and I find
myselfunabletobreathe,mychestrisinginraggedswells.

His fingers trail along my waist and he leans down, brushing his lips over my neck so gently that I

shiver.Iwanttofeelthewarmthofhisskinagainstmine,thesteadybeatofhisheart.Iwantthewayhis
bodyfeelstobeingrainedwithinmine.Andyet,thereisthishesitationandfearofwhatthiswilldotous.

"You'resofuckingbeautiful,"hebreathesagainstmymouth.
Andinthismoment,thereisnostoppingthis.Thisdamwillbreak.
Hegripsmyface,kissingmewiththistypeoftragicviolence,adesperation.AndIgrabontohim,my

fingersscratchingthroughhisthickhair,holdingontohimfordearlifebecausethisisusdrowning.Right
here.Rightnow.

Myhandslipsbeneathhisshirt,hiswarmskinsearingthroughmypalmbeforeItearhisshirtoverhis

head.Witheachpassingsecond,weslipfarther,losingourselveswithineachother'sembrace.Brandon's
hand roughly roams over my body, down my sides, until he's gripping the top of my jeans in his hands,
rippingthemdownmythighsashesitsupinthebed.AndthemomentI'mcompletelynakedinfrontof
him,hedrawsinadeepbreath.

Thisisastruggle.AmoralwarthathaswagedbetweenthetwoofusforaslongasIcanremember.
Iinhale,myeyeslockingonhisasIallowmylegstoslowlyfallopen.
And then, the incredible weight and warmth of his body covers me. Skin to skin. His mouth hovers

overmine,along,desperatebreathblowingfromhislipsasIfeelhimpressagainstme.I'mdesperatefor
this,forthisconnection,forthisneedtobefilled,andatthesametime,I'mterrified.Grabbingontohis
shoulders, I push down, forcing him inside of me with one of the most slow, torturous movements I've
everexperienced.

Hehangshisheadonagroan,hisfingersdiggingintomyhips.Myfingersclawagainsthisshoulders

andIpullhimdeeperinsideofme,andnow,everythinghaschanged.Theemotion,therawneedtobelong
tosomeoneconsumesusbothandwetumble.Wefall.AndI'dbelyingifIsaiditwasn'theartbreakingly
beautiful.Twopeoplewhoshouldn'tbelongtogether,throughdeath,nowcouldnotbelongtoanyoneelse.

Hisfingerscirclearoundmywristsandhepinsmyarmsabovemyhead.AllIcandoiswatchhim.

Hisface.Hisexpressionsgrowingmorestrainedbythesecond.Eachbreath.Everylasttouchandkiss,
eachgroaningrainsitselfwithinmeuntilthereisnothingmorethanmeandhim,clingingtooneanother,
drowningwithinthistragicbliss,expressingtheinexpressiblethroughthemovementsofourbodies.

Andoncewe'rebothslickedwithsweat,breathless,andnothingbutuselessheapsonthemattress,we

lienexttoeachother,myheadonhischest,hisfingersrakingthroughmydamphair.

IfI'mhonest,Iwanttojuststayhere.Righthere.Inthismoment.Inthedarkofnightbecauserightnow

weareokay.

Atthisverymoment,we'rebothwhole,butIknowitwillneverstaythisway.

ChapterTwentyFour

BRANDON

“WakeUpCall”–NothingButThieves

LIE

THE

DARK

LISTENING

OPPY

SOFT

BREATHS

. H

CHEEK

PRESSED

CHEST

HER

SMALL

BODY

nestledagainstmyside,everynakedinchofhertouchingme.Ihavefuckedcountlesswomenanddrunk
enoughwhiskeytodrownasmalltownallinabidtoforget.Andtheironyis,sheistheonlythingthat
makesmeforget,yetshe'stheverythingthatshouldremindmeofallthethingsthathauntme.Whenshe
touchesme,allIseeisher.I'veneverfeltlikeIneededanyonethewayIneedher.Attimes,she'stheonly
thingthatkeepsmegrounded,theonlythingthatmakessensetome.Andyet,she'salsomybiggestsource
of conflict. Because she's not mine, and the second I step back, the second I get some perspective, I
rememberthatfact.

Icravethesenseofpeacethatshebringsme,evenwhenIhavenorightto.
IclosemyeyesandanimageofherandConnorontheirweddingdayflashesthroughmymind.They

weresohappy,andshelookedathimliketheworldstartedandendedwithhim.Perhapsitdid,andnow
we'relivinginsomepost-apocalypticreplicaofatimewhenConnormadeeverythingseamlesslybetter.
The guilt is warring with my basic fucking instinct to survive because I'm no longer deluded enough to
thinkthatIcandothiswithouther.It'stoodark,toofuckingbottomless.Sheismyonlysourceofhope,my
lightattheendofthetunnel.AndasawfulasIfeelaboutbetrayingConnor,asmuchasIlovedhim,Ican't
quitemakemyselfletgoofthatlight.

WAKE

AND

SUNLIGHT

POURING

THROUGH

THE

PALE

CREAM

CURTAINS

. I

MORNING

. I

SLEPT

THROUGH

THE

night. No nightmares. No sweating. Sometimes sex helps me sleep better, but I can't remember the last
timeIsleptrightthroughthenightwithoutaseriousdoseofwhiskeyorweed.

Poppy is lying next to me on her side, the duvet skimming her hips and exposing her naked back. I

wanttorunmyfingersalongthecurveofherwaist,dropmyhandbeneaththatduvet...mydickstirs,butI
forcemyselftogetoutofbedandgotothebathroom.Ijustneedsomeperspective,amoment.

Istareatmybruisedfaceinthebathroommirror.Thecutonmycheekhasscabbedover,andthere’s

driedbloodonmyface.Icanbarelylookatmyself,andithasnothingtodowithmyexteriorinjuries.

Iclimbintotheshowerandallowthehotwatertosoothemyachingmuscles.Bracingmyforearms

againstthetile,Idropmyheadforwardandrestmyforeheadagainstthecoldtile.Thisisaclusterfuckof
epic proportions. I don't even know what I think or feel anymore, but the ever-present band of panic is
tighteningaroundmychest,squeezingme.Thethoughtoffacingheristoomuch.Ineedair.Ineedtime.

I finish my shower and dry off, grabbing some gym clothes from the bathroom floor. Praying she

doesn'twakeup,Iheadtothelivingroom,shovemyshoeson,andwalkstraightoutthefrontdoorlikemy
arseisonfire.

ChapterTwentyFive

POPPY

“SomeonetoDieFor”-Hurts

EYES

POP

OPEN

THE

THOUGHT

WHAT

DID

LAST

NIGHT

. I

STARE

BLANKLY

THE

WALL

FOR

MOMENT

before I roll over in bed to find him gone. I glance at the clock. 9:10 AM. Brandon's never up before
midday.Draggingmyhandsdownmyface,Itakeadeepbreathandsmellcoffee.

I'lljuststayinhereaslongasIcan.Avoidthesituation...becausethat'swhatamature,rationalwoman

woulddointhissituation.IliehereforafewminutesbeforeIgroan,tossthecoversoff,andplantmy
feetfirmlyontheground.MyheartsitsinanuneasylumpinmythroatasImakemywaytothekitchen.
He'sgoingtolookatmeandthenwhat?WhatdoIsaytohim?So,wehadsex...again...

IshakemyheadjustasIroundthedoorwaytotheemptykitchen.Halfofthepotofcoffeeisgone,a

dirtymugonthecounternexttoit.

Heleft.
Hehadnowheretogothismorning,heleftbecauseofme.Droppingmychintomychest,Iexhale.

ThisiswhatBrandondoeswhenthingsgettobetoomuch:heruns.Hediditwiththearmyandhedidthis
exactsamethingtomebefore.

Funnyhowyoucancloseyoureyesandberightbackinamoment.Rightnow,whenIclosemyeyes,I

can still feel the warmth of that bed all these years later. I remember waking with the thought that
everything would be how it should be, that since we'd crossed that line we would no longer be just
friends.Howcouldwe?Thosewerethehopeful,naïvethoughtsofaseventeen-year-oldwhobelieveda
littletoomuchinfairytales.BrandonandIhadslepttogether,whichtoatender,youngheartmeantthathe
mustcareaboutme.IfoolishlythoughteverythingwouldbeexactlyhowI'dalwayswantedeversincethe
dayImethim.Andthen,thatnextmorning,Irolledovertoanemptybed.Heran...atleastIthoughthedid,
andhonestly,IthinkImayhavepreferredthat.Iclosemyeyesandallowmymemorytowanderdownthat
road,backtoamuchyoungermeandamuchlessdamagedBrandon.Backbeforelifetoreusdown...back
tothemomentIrealizedfriendscould,infact,breakyourheart.

RANDON

AND

ONNOR

ARE

AHEAD

LAWN

CHAIRS

SLUNG

OVER

THEIR

SHOULDERS

AND

COOLERS

TOW

ROM

here I can just see the shore of the lake. Hope's walking beside me, watching me. I told her what
happenedwithBrandon,andshewasshockedtosaytheleast.

"He'sactinglikearipecunt,"shewhispers.
HeisandIknowit.He'sbarelylookedatmesinceHopeandIpulledup.Itterrifiesme.I'mtoo

afraidtosayanything,soIjustshrug.

Sheshovesme."FuckingsaysomethingtohimbeforeIdo."
"Hope..."
"I'llpunchhiminhisprettyplayboyface,Imeanit,Poppy.HetookyourVcardforChrist'ssake.

That'sabigdeal.Huge!"

"Hope..."
"Ugh,Iwanttoshoveaporcupineuphisarseholerightnow."Shearchesabrow."WillNelsonhas

apetporcupine.Ibethe'dletmeborrowhimforawhile."

"Ineedtotalktohim."
"You think?" She snorts and struts off toward Connor, looping her arm through his elbow and

pulling him toward the lake. "Walk with me, Milky Bar Kid." I would smile if my stomach wasn't
bundledinknots.

"Brandon?"Icallafterhim,butheignoresme.
"Theporcupine'snameisWilbur,"Hopecallsoverhershoulder.
Sighing,Ijogtocatchupwithhim."Brandon."Igrabhisarmandhestopswalking.Hisdarkeyes

lockwithmine,andIwanttoshrinkunderhisgaze.I'vewatchedhimbeanarsetootherpeople.I've
watchedgirlsfallalloverhimonlytobedroppedthenextday,butI'veneverbeenanythingbuthis
bestfriend.IthoughtIhatedthattitle,untilnow.Now,I'ddoanythingnottofeellikethegirlfromthe
nightbefore.

ButIsuckitupandloopmyarmthroughhis—likeIhaveathousandtimesbefore,butthistime,it

feels so different and foreign. Brandon stiffens and then pulls his arm away from mine, covering his
mouthashefakesacough.Heatdrownsme."Really?Youareanasshole,"Isay.

Hedragsahandthroughhishairandtiltshisfacebacktowardthesky."Look,Poppy..."Poppy.He

nevercallsmePoppy."Iwasreallydrunklastnight."Hefocusesontheground,refusingtolookatme.
"Whateverhappened,I'msosorry."

Istopmidstride.Icanfeelthetearswellinginmyeyes,soIclosethem."Whateverhappened..."I

whisper.

"Shit."Hepullsmeintohisarms,crushingmeagainsthisbroadchest."I'manarsehole.Please

don'thateme.You'remybestfriend,poss."

Ibitedownonmylip,mynostrilsflaringasIfighttheurgetocryandscream.Bestfriend.I let

thatcommentsetinforaminute,andwitheverybreathIdragintomylungs,allIsmellisBrandon.
Clenchingmyjaw,Ishoveawayfromhim."I'mgladI'myourbestfriend,Brandon,reallyIam."Itake
a step back, my vision blurring behind pathetic tears. "Meanwhile, you're the guy who took my
virginityanddoesn'tevenrememberit,youfuckingdick!"

AndIrunoff,theleavescrunchingbeneathmyfeetasImakemywaybacktothepath.
"Poppy!"Hopeshoutsassherunsafterme.
Momentslater,IhearConnoryellingatBrandon:"Whatdidyoudotoher,youfuckingballbag?"
Andthatwasthemomenteverythingchanged.ThatwasthemomentBrandonstoppedsavingmeand

Connordid.IcriedonConnor’sshoulderforanhour,nottellinghimwhy.AndInevertoldhimwhy.That
hasalwaysbeenmydeepest,darkestsecret,thefactthatIlostmyvirginitytomyhusband'sbestfriend.
I'vealwaysfeltguiltyaboutBrandonwhenitcametoConnorbecauseheneverknew.

Youokay?

PRESS

SEND

AND

THE

TEXT

OFF

RANDON

ERE

SIT

WITH

LEAD

BALL

STOMACH

Hope stares across the restaurant table at me, her hands clasping her coffee cup, one brow arched.

"Wasitanygood?"

Oneofthebusboysdropsthetubofdishes.Theloudclatteringofplatesbreakingechoesthroughthe

smallrestaurant.How does Hope always know these things? I haven't said a word about Brandon...yet,
shealwaysknowswhensomethingisoffwithme.Honestly,it'sunnerving."Waswhatanygood?"Iask.

"Don'tlietome.Iknowyoudidit,"shesayswithaslightnod."Youfuckedhim."
"What...no."Mycheeksstingwithheat.IswallowandfeignalaughasIreachforapacketofsugar

anddumpitintomycoffee."Don'tberidiculous,Hope."

"Liar!"Shepointsherfingeratme."Youarelying.Iknowyou.Iknowyouarelying.Iknowyouslept

withhim."Hereyebrowarcheseversoslightly."Standupthen."

"What?"
"Standup.Ifyoudidn'tsleepwithhim,standup."AwrysmileworksitswayacrossherlipsandI

remainseated."JustwhatIthought."Hersmiledeepens.

"Whatareyoutalkingabout?"
"StandupandI'lldropit."
"Fine!"Ipushmycuptothesideandstand,tossingmyhandsintheairasIglareather."I'mstanding."
"Hmph."Shrugging,sheliftshercuptohermouthandtakesasip."Fine."
Isitdown,andwhenIdo,ajoltofpainshootsfrombetweenmythighsandIwince.
"Guilty!"sheshouts,slammingherpalmdownonthetablelikeajudgewithagavel."Thewince.You

fuckedhim."

Ipropmyelbowsonthetable,covermyfacewithmyhands,andsigh.
"It'sfine."
Myphonedingswithatext.IshakemyheadbeforeIglanceatitthroughtheslitbetweenmyfingers,

readinghisonewordresponse:

Yep

"Lookatitthisway,it'snotlikeyou'reafirst-timeoffender."Shereachesacrossthetableandyanksmy
handawayfrommyface."Shithappens."

Shithappens.Itsuredoes.
Itypeoutanothertext.

Weneedtotalk.

Andhegivesmeanotheronewordresponse.

Yep

Thethingis,Brandonhateswhenpeoplesendhimonewordresponses.Itirritateshimtonoend,sothe
factthathe’sdoingittome…well,ithurtsmyheartalittle.

I stare down into my coffee cup, thinking. I can't get the image of him on top of me, the feel of his

hands all over me, his lips, the way he left me nothing but a puddle on his mattress—I can't get those
thoughtsoutofmyhead.Thewhatifs,thethoughtthatitwassomethingmorethansimplefucking.Thefact
thatitis—thatheis—somethingIneedandcrave.

Anotherdingfrommyphone.

Itwasamistake.

Morethanonewordthattime…Andmyheartplummets,mycheeksstingingwithheat.IlookupatHope.
"Ineedtostaywithyou."

Thesmilefromherfacefades."Ofcourse,Poppy."Shereachesacrossthetableandtakesmyhandin

hers."YouknowI'malwayshereforyou."

I smile and inhale. I just need to get out of the middle of whatever that is so I can think clearly

becauseobviously,whenI'maroundhim,rationaleisnowheretobefound.

INE

."H

OPE

SETS

GLASS

THE

PATIO

TABLE

"Idon'twantany..."
Sheshrugs."Okay.Whateveryouwant."Shetakesaseatonthewroughtironchair,kickingherfeetup

ontothepatiorailing.Thebreezewhirlsaroundthecorner,scatteringafewdryleavesovertheconcrete.
ThesunslowlysinksbelowthehorizonandIwatchitforamomentbeforeIglanceacrossthestreetatthe
redbricktownhouses.

"Youliketheflat?"Hopeasks.
"Yeah,it'snice."IwatchasaLandRoverparallelparksontheside-streetandamaninabusinesssuit

clamorsout,rosesinhand.Thishigh-end,Chelseaneighborhoodisonemostpeopleonlydreamofliving
in,andHope'sfathersignedtheleaseonitjustbecauseHopewantedit.That'showherlifehasalways
gone.WhateverHopewants,ifmoneycanpossiblybuyit,it'shers.

"Imadesureithadtwobedrooms,youknow,incaseyoudecidedyouwanttostayhere."
"Ican'tbelieveyourfatherboughtthisforyou."
She shrugs and tips her glass back. "Tax write off somehow, I'm sure. Besides, if I'm here, I'm not

theredrinkingitupathissocialeventsandflirtingwithhisbusinesspartners."Shesmirksaroundtherim
ofherglass."Winforeveryone,right?"

Ilaugh."AfterthatlastdebacleyouhadwiththatReginaldRutherford..."Ileanbackinmychairand

blowoutacleansingbreath,"I'msurehe'sgladtohaveyououttaIrelandforabit."

"Hey,"shesetsherglassonthetable."OldReggieshouldhaveknownbetter."
"Hope,he'stwiceyourageandthatpictureofhishandupyourskirtatthegallerywasplasteredall

overtheinternet."

"Again,likeI'vesaidathousandtimes,shithappens."
"Youneedashirtthatsaysthatorsomething."
"Iknowaguythatdoesthosecustom-madeshirts.Gavehimablowieonceortwice."Shewinks.
"Jesus..."
Mygazeonceagaindriftstothehousesacrossthestreet.Oneofthewindowslightsup,catchingmy

attention.Iwatchasthemanwiththerosescrossesthelivingroomofthatflat.Awomancomesoutfrom
theothersideoftheroom,meetinghimhalfway.Hehandshertherosesbeforehewrapshisarmsaround
herdelicatewaistandnuzzleshisfaceagainstherneck.IfindmyselfthinkingofBrandon—notConnor—
andaknotformsinthepitofmystomach,slippinglikeasnakecoiledarounditself.Exhaling,Ireachfor
thewine,butstop.

"Go ahead. Drink it," Hope says, her attention also locked on the couple in the window across the

street."Trustme,sometimesyoujustneedit."

"Idon'twanttoneedanything."
"Ah, but that's a problem. We all need something, don't we?" Hope releases a long sigh. "Poppy, I

knowyou'reconfusedaboutthewholeBrandonthing,butstopbeatingyourselfup."

"Ican'tlosehim."
Shenods,staringdownintohernearemptyglass.
Butthethingis,whileIamworriedaboutlosingBrandon,I'mmostworriedaboutlosingthememory

of Connor. What kind of person does something like I’ve done—sleeping with her dead husband's best
friend,ourbestfriend?And,thewaymyfirstthoughtwhenwatchingthathappycoupleacrossthestreet
wenttoBrandoninsteadofConnor—theguiltnearlyswallowsme.IlovedConnor,butIlovedBrandon
first.

Iamahorribleperson.
"Thethingis,Poppy,"Hopesays,"Connorisgoneandnothingisgoingtobringhimback.Lifegoes

on,youknow?"

Lifegoeson.Ihatethatphrasebecauseitdoesanddoesn'tthatseemsowrong?Itseemsdisrespectful

tocarryon,tolaughandsmileandfindyourownhappinesswhenyou'velostsomeoneyoulove.Itseems
likeyou'rejustlettingthemgo,liketheynevermattered."ButIdon'twanttoforgethim,"Iwhisper."I'm
scaredI'llforget."

"You won't." She stands, grabbing her glass of wine from the table to refill it. "I know I told you

fuckingaroundwithBrandonwouldruineverything...And,itmay,butsometimesinlife,youhavetotake
risksoryou'llneverlive.Theregretofnotdoingsomethingissometimesfarworsethantheregretofwhat
youdid."

Andthat'sjustthething,Ifeeltrapped.Eitherway,Iwillregretsomething.

"B-4.”T

ANNOUNCER

COUGHS

INTO

THE

MICROPHONE

.“B-4."

Hopehasabouttenbingocardsspreadoutinfrontofher,thelittlestamperhoveringoverthemasshe

searches for the number called. She pounds it over one of the cards. "That's right motherfucker. I just
madeB-4mybitch."

Dorisglancesoveratme,grinningassheliftstheflasktohermouth."Ilikeher."
Inod."She'suh,something,that'sforsure."
"Aw,I'malittlefondofyou,too,Doris."Sheeyestheflask."What'sinthere?"
"Whiskey."DorispassestheflasktoHope.
"Spiritanimals,Doris,wearespiritanimals."Shetipstheflaskbackjustastheannouncercallsout

anotherspace.

"G-45.G-45."
Istampthespotonmyonecard.AndthenextthingIknow,thesilverflaskisshakingrightinfrontof

myface.IglanceoveratHope."You'resad,"shesays."Whiskeymakespeoplehappy."

"So,basically,youwantmetobeadrunk?"
"No.JustbelikeanIrishman."
"Again,adrunk?"
"Look,I'mprettysuretheIrishhavethelowestrateofdepressionintheworld."
"Theydonot."
"Suretheydo.Youcan'tbesadwhenyou'redrunk."
IstareatHope,shakingmyhead."You'recrazy,youknowthat?"
"ThenextspaceisN-12.N-12."
Hope jumps up from the table, knocking over her chair and scaring awake the elderly woman who

noddedoffontheothersideofher."Bingo!"Shewavesoneofhercardsaround."Fuckingbingo!"Hope
placesafootonthemetalfoldingchair,grindingtheairasshesingsout:"Bingo.B-I-N-fucking-G-O."

Everyone's staring. Doris is clapping and laughing, and I just sink into my chair and cover my face

withmyhands.WhyIcan'tpicknormalpeopletobefriendswithisbeyondme.

"Damn,thatwasthelastgame,"Dorissays,tippingtheflaskbackagain.
"Alright."Igatherthebingocardsandstackthemtogether."Well,thanksforinvitingus,Doris."
Shenods.
Hopegrins."Yep,IthinkI'vefoundanewhobby."
"Great,soyourlistisdrinking,screwing,andbingo?"
"Basically.Soundslegit."
My phone dings with a text. I pull it from my purse while Hope walks to the front of the room to

collectherprize:Aheatedneckmassager.

Istareatthetext,mychestgoingalltight.

Itoldyouyou'dhateme.Sorry,Poss.

Likeachild,he'signoredmytextsandcallsforthepastday.Andthenhesendsmethiscrap.Brandonis
anemotionalrollercoaster,onestormafteranother,andeventhoughthatshouldbeenoughtomakemerun
intheoppositedirection,heissomethingmyheartandsouldesperatelyneed.

"Aheatedneckmassager.Amazing!"Hopeholdsthebrightpinkobjectupandsmiles."Perfectfora

rainyday,huh?"

"Yep."
"HotlineBling"blaresoverHope'sphoneandherlipspullintoawrysmile."Well,Iknowwhatthat

one wants." She digs her phone from her purse, touches the screen, and places it to her ear. "Hey, hot
stuff."Shepausesforasecond.Hersmileslowlyfadesandsheshootsanannoyedlookinmydirection.
"Fine. Fine. I'll send her over." She hangs up the phone and tosses it back inside her oversized leather
purse."Luckyyou,dutycalls."

"What?"
"YourreasoningforbeinginLondon..."
Istareatherwithablankexpression.
"Brandongotshitfacedandevidentlyneedsyou.Kyansaidhe'sdonebabysittinghim."
Sighing,Iburymyfaceinmyhands."Great…"

TV'

LOUD

CAN

HEAR

THROUGH

THE

DOOR

SECOND

WALK

INTO

RANDON

FLAT

ROLL

EYES

Thelivingroomisadisaster.Clothesandemptybeercansareeverywhere.Kyan'ssittingattheendofthe
sofa,abeerinhishand.AndBrandon—Brandon'shanginghalfwayoffthecouch,swattingatabottleof
whiskeyonthetable.KyangrabsthebottleandhandsittoBrandon,althoughhisgazeisgluedtome.

"Well,'bouttimeyoucameback."
"I'msorry?"
"He's been like this for twenty-four-fucking hours. Missed his fight." He stands up and stretches.

"Whatthehellhaveyoudonetohim,woman?He'samess."

IglancebackatBrandon,andyes,slobberingmessisprettymuchright."Brandon,"Isay.
Heslowlyturnshisheadtowardme,squintinghisbloodshoteyes."Possum.You'rehere."Heliftsthe

bottletome."Comehaveadrink."

"Possum?"Kyansays,laughingasheslapsahandoverhisforehead."Fuckme."
IglareatKyanandheshrinksbackastep."Idon'twantadrink,"Isay."Whatthehellareyoudoing,

huh?"

Brandon’seyebrowspulltogetherinafrown."Drinking,"hesaysasthoughit'sthemostobviousthing

intheworld.

"Okay,yes,Icanclearlyseethat.But,whyhaveyoubeendrunkfortwenty-fourhours?"
Thefrowndeepensandheliftsthebottletohislips,turningitup.Thewhiskeysloshesaroundinthe

bottlebeforehedropsittohisside.Heswipeshismouthwiththebackofhishandandhiseyelidsstartto
droop.

“Fortheloveof…”Huffing,Icrosstheroom,turningaroundwhenIreachthecouchtopointatKyan.

"Andreally?You’vebeensittingherefeedinghimalcohol,becausethatseemslikeagoodidea?"

Kyanshrugs.
"God,youareanidiot,"Imumble."Justgetoutofhere.Gostickyourdickinsomegirldownatthe

puborsomethingforfuck'ssake."

Brandonlaughs,halfattemptingtositupashelooksatKyan."See,don'tletherfoolyou,she'sgota

filthyfuckingmouth."Hegrabshiscrotch."Makesmydickhard."

Kyansnorts,butquicklyduckshisheadtohideit.It'slikedealingwithsixteen-yearoldboys.
Iclenchmyjaw."Youare...therearenowords."ItakeseveralstepstowardKyan,placingmyhands

onhisshouldersandspinninghimaroundbeforeIgrabhisbeerandhandittohim."Go."

"Hey,hey!He'sgotafightineighthours,youmaywanttotryand,"Kyanchuckles,"soberhimupa

bit."

"Get.Out!He'snotfighting."
"Oh, like hell he's not. He missed his fight last night, Larry'll have him by the balls if he no shows

again."

Myfaceheats,mynostrilsflare,andIpushuponmytiptoesasIinchtowardKyan'sface."TellLarry

ifhethinksBrandon’sfighting,I'llhavehimbytheballs."

Kyan'sbrowarches,onesideofhislipcurling."Yougotabitoffeistinyouyet,don'tyou?"
Ishovehimonegoodtimeandhestumblestowardthedoor."Alrightthen,I'llseeyoulater,Brandon."

AndKyanleavestheflat.

WhenIturnaroundBrandon’sattemptingtopullhisshirtoverhishead,butfailingmiserably."God,

youarelikeachildsometimes,"IsayasIleandownandyankhisshirtoverhishead.

"Thanks."
"Lookatme."HischindropsandIgrabit,raisinghisheadbackup."Brandon,lookatme.Whatthe

hellareyoudoing?Whyareyoudrunk?Imean,you'redrunkalot,butthis..."Iletgoofhischin.Hisface
dropsforwardandhelaughs.

"Youleft,poss,"heslurs.
"IwenttoHope's.Ididn'tleave."
"Leftme,"hemumbleswithoutliftinghishead.
Sighing, I flop down on the couch next to him and comb my fingers through his hair. He looks up

throughhislashesandInoticehischeekboneisswollenandbruised."So,ifyoudidn'tfight,whyisyour
cheekallbangedup?"

Hereachesupandrubshishandoverhischeek."Mycheek?"
"Youwearmeout."
"Icanwearyououtifyoulike?"Hegrins,eventhoughhecanbarelyopenhiseyes.
Iglaredownathim,fightingalaugh,fightingthislittledesiretolethimwearmeout."Really?Wow,

howromanticareyou?"

Heliftshishand,tryingtostrokemyhair,butinsteadheendsupawkwardlypettingmycheek."I'm

sorry,"heblurts.

"Yep."AndhowmanytimesamIgoingtohearthat?ThisiswhatIamsettingmyselfupfor,alifetime

ofapologies.AconstantTilt-a-whirlofemotions,andwhileIknowthisisinnowayideal,Icraveit.I
justwanttomakeusbothbetter.That'sall."Youcan'tdothingslikethisthough,Brandon,”Isay.“You
havetotakebettercareofyourself."

Heshakeshishead."I'msorryIfuckedyou."
MyheartskipsafewbeatsandIbitedownonmylip.Ican'tlookathimrightnow.HeregretsitandI

longforit,andhowscrewedupisthis?Thisiswhyyoucan'tcrossthatline,becausesomeonewilltakeit
tomeansomethingmore.Someonewillgethurt.Twice,I'vemadethatmistakewithhim.

"Now you hate me," he mumbles. "Please don't hate me. Just forget it happened. And we can be

BrandonandPossumagain."Henodstohimself."BrandonandPossum."Hisbrowwrinklesandhelooks
sogenuinelydistressedthatIhavetheurgetosmoothoutthedeep-setlines.

PartofmewantstotellhimIwillforgetithappened,butthatwouldbealie.Rightnow,Icanstill

feelthatithappened."Idon'thateyou,”Iwhisper.“Andwe'llalwaysbeBrandonandPossum.Nothing
canchangethat."

Aflickerofasmiletoucheshislips,butquicklyfades,hiseyesgoingdistant."Hewouldhateme."
"Damnit."Ifeelmychesttighten.Mybloodpressurerises,notfromanger,butfromhowpatheticthe

twoofusactuallyare."Stopit.Juststopit.Heisgone,Brandon.He.Is.Gone.Andifhewerealivewe
wouldn't be here, but we are. What the hell are we supposed to do about it now? Wallow in it?
Just...stop."Iexhaleanddropmychintomychest."Juststopit!"

"You know, he made me promise? We were in this shithole hut in the middle of the fucking desert.

Therewasagoat.Andbullets,lotsoffuckingbullets.Hemademepromisehimthatifhekarkedit,I'd
lookafteryou.”Hedrawscirclesonmyarmwithhisfingers.“Thatgoatwascoolasshit."

"Agoat..."Ishakemyhead."Inhisgraveletterheaskedmetolookafteryou.So,hereweare,looking

aftereachother."Itrailmyfingertipsalonghisjawline,hisstubbleticklingmyfingers.

Hehuffsalaugh."Ofcoursehedid.Andthat'sexactlywhyConnorwasalwayssofuckingworthyof

you."

Worthyofme...Inarrowmygaze,lockingmyeyeswithhis."Don'tsaythingslikethat."
"Okay.”Hisfingerstightlygripatmyshirt.“Pleasedon'tleaveme."
I lean down, placing my face right in front of his. "I'm not leaving you." And I want to kiss him so

badlythatIfindmyselfclosingmyeyes.Itakeabreath,warringwithmyself."Friendsnomatterwhat,
remember?Ipromised."

"Idon'twanttojustbeyourfriend,"hewhispers,brushingafingerovermybottomlip."AndIfeel

likeafuckingarseholeforit."

MyheartclangsagainstmyribsandIfindasmileworkingitswayacrossmyface.Partofmewants

to tell him that I'm not just his friend...that I don't know if we've ever really been just friends, but that
conversationneedstohappenwhenhe'ssober—wheneverthehellthatis.Brandonmaybeatrainwreck,
buthe'smytrainwreck.

"Thisisn'tachoice,poss.It'ssurvival."
Anditreallyis.Itreallyis.

ChapterTwentySix

BRANDON

“NoOneWillEverReplaceUs”-Courteeners

WAKE

GROANING

FROM

THE

SUNLIGHT

SCORCHING

RETINAS

HEAD

POUNDING

AND

MOUTH

TASTES

likesomethingcurledupanddiedinit.Iputmyhandovermyeyestoblockoutthelight.Thebedshifts
besidemeandIglanceacrossatPoppy.Herbackistome,herdarkhairspillingacrossthepillow.

Sighing,Idragmyhandsovermyface.Ican'tremembershitpastthefactthatshedidn'tcomehome

the night before last, and I started drinking. Whatever this is between us, it's fucking dangerous to me
becauseit'ssodamnvital.Icrawloutofbed,gotothebathroom,andstumbleintotheshower.Itfeels
likeamarchingbandhastakenupresidenceinsidemyhead,anddespitethefactthatIhaveathousand
thoughtsrunningthroughmymind,ithurtstothink.

BythetimeIgetoutoftheshower,Poppy'snolongerinthebedroom.Ithrowonashirtalongwitha

pairoftracksuitbottomsandbracemyselfbeforeIgointothekitchen.SheturnstofacemeassoonasI
walkin,hereyescrashingintomine.MyheartsqueezespainfullyinmychestandIwanttokickmyselffor
it.

"Hey,"Imumble.
"How'syourhead?"Shesmirks.
"Beenbetter."
Shepoursacupofcoffeethenopensthecabinet,grabbingabottleofwhiskeyanddumpinginashot.

Smiling,shepassesittome."Whatdoyoucallthat?”sheasks.“Hairofthedogorsomething?"

Isnort."AndyoucallyourselffuckingIrish,woman?"Ipickupthemugandswallowamouthfulof

thehotliquid.

Alowlaughseepsfromherlips."ButI'mnotIrish,Brandon...remember?"
"Oh,Iknow,”Ismirk,“Meascach.”
"Asshole.I'mAmericannotadamnhalfbreed.”Hereyesnarrow.“AtleastI'mnotapikey."Ihadn't

realisedhowmuchIneedthis,tohavehertalktomenormally,insultmethesamewayshealwaysdoes.

"Don't pretend you don't have a thing for pikey lads," I say. She was always hanging around the

traveler'scampwithConnorandme.Shelovedthedogsandthehorses.Hell,mymatriedtogivehera
dogeverydamntimeshecamearound.

"Neverdiduntilyou."Sheinhales,hereyesstudyingme."DidyouneverrealizeIwasinlovewith

youforallthoseyears,Brandon?Anddon'tlietome."

Isqueezemyeyesshutandgriptheedgeofthekitchenisland."Don'tsaythat,"Iwhisper.
"Answermyquestion."
"Helovedyou.Andthatwasallthatmattered."

"AndIlovedyoufirst.Andforyears,thatwasallthatmatteredtome."
Islammypalmovertheworktop."Fuck,Poppy.Whatdoyouwantmetosay?Yes,Iknewyouhada

crushonme.Yes,Ifuckingwantedyou,butIwasnogood.Iamnogood.Connor...Connorwasgood.He
deservedyou."

This has lingered between us for years, unspoken but ever present. Connor buffered it because I

wouldalwaysputhishappinessbeforemyown.Everydamntime.HewasmybrotherandIwouldhave
given him the world. This is the first time we've put voice to the fucking great, pink elephant that has
alwaysbeenjustintheperiphery.

"Isthatwhatitwas...allthoseyears?"Herfacecrumplesforthebriefestofmoments."Aboutwhatyou

thoughtIdeserved?"Herjawticksandshepullsinabreath."BecauseI'lltellyouwhatIthinkIdeserved
wastobelovedbytheboyIwasinlovewith,tohavehimacknowledgethathetookmyvirginity,forhim
totreatmelikeIwasmorethanjustafuckingfriend."

Idragahandthroughmyhair."Iwouldhavedestroyedyou,Poppy."
"Brandon,doyounotrealizeyoudidanyway?"Sheshakesherhead."Youdidanyway."
"AndConnorwastheretowipeawaythetears,toloveyou."
Hereyesarequicklyfillingwithtears,hercheeksturningadeepred."Hewas."Shenods."Butwhat

aboutnow?Whoputsmebacktogethernow,Brandon?"

I release a long breath and stare at a spot on the floor. "I love you, Poppy. More than anyone or

anything.ButIwon'twatchyouspiraldownwithme.You'reallIhaveleft."

She makes me want something more. She makes me hope, and hope is dangerous to a guy like me

because when it's gone, it seems like there's nothing left. And if we do this, one day she will leave,
becauseIwillbreakherthewayIdoeverythingandeveryone.I'mjusttryingtoprolongtheinevitable,
keepheratarm’slengthforaslongasIpossiblycan.

“You…”Shetakesasteptowardme,herfaceangry,nostrilsflaring,“don'thaveafuckingchoice."
Ican'thelpbutsmirk.LittlePoppyTurner,sosweetandyetsofierce."Isthatso?"
Shetakesanotherstepandgrabsmyt-shirt,jerkingmedowntoher."Iloveyou.Thereisnochoice,

Brandon."

Myheartthudsunevenlyinmychestandthatageoldlongingcreepsup.It'sselfishandshittyofme,

butI'mstartingtolosesightofallthereasonsthatIshouldstayawayfromher.Icuphercheek,touching
myforeheadtohers."ThereareonlysomanytimesIcandotheselflessthingwhenitcomestoyou."Itilt
mychinup,brushingmylipsacrosshers.ShetastesofcoffeeandPoppy.Icraveitlikemyownpersonal
brandofcrack."It'salwaysbeenyou,"IbreathethewordsIcan'tfightanymore.

I'malreadytrappedinmyownpersonalwarandIneedherbesideme,notstandingacrossthebattle

linesfromme.Ican'thelpbutfeelasthoughthiswasalwaysinevitable,meandher.Nomatterhowmany
womenIfuckedorhowperfectConnorwasforher,thishasalwaysbeenatwistedformoffate.

Poppy’sfingerswindintomyhairandshepushesupontohertiptoes,pressinghersmallbodyagainst

mine.Iwrapmyarmsaroundherwaistandtouchmylipstohers,breathingherin.Anddamn,shefeels
likehome.

OPPY

SITTING

THE

METAL

BENCH

THE

SIDE

THE

ROOM

WHILE

GET

CHANGED

FOR

THE

FIGHT

BIG

fight tonight and the pub is packed. The roar from the crowd is constant in the background. I yank my
shorts over my hips and swipe a hand through my hair. Poppy's eyes linger on my bare torso before
flickinguptomeetmine.Ablushtoucheshercheekswhensherealisesshe'sbeencaughtlooking.It'sso
damncute.

"YouknowthatIhatethatyoudothis,"shesays,standingandwalkingovertome.
Ismirk."EasiestmoneyIevermade,poss."

"Yeah,I'mprettysuredrugdealersmake'easy'moneytoo...doesn'tmeanyoushoulddoit."Sheglares

atmeandIcan'thelpbutseethatlittlegirlsheoncewassulkingbecauseshedidn'tgetherway."Imean,
ifhebeatsyourass,fine,butdon'tlethimhityoujustbecauseyoulikeit.That'ssoNeanderthal,Jesus."

"It'smanly.I'mjustmakinghimfeelbetterabouthimselfanyway."
"It'sidiotic."
"Youconcernedaboutthepreservationofmydashinggoodlooks?"
"Really?"Sherollshereyes.
Smiling,Ileaninandbrushmylipsacrossherjaw,placingakissjustbelowherear.It'sstrangebeing

abletotouchher.I'vealwayslovedher,alwayswantedher,butfromafar.Shewaslikethesun,beautiful
andsodamnunattainable,andnowthatIhaveherIcan'tquitebelievethatshewon'tburnme."Iwon'tlet
him'beatmyass',"IsayinapoorimitationofherAmericantwang.Ifeelthetensioninherbodyrelax.I
wrapmyfingersaroundherjawandnipatherbottomlip."Don'tmove."Ikissheroncemoreandwalk
away,headingtotheexit.ThesecondIopenthedoor,thenoisefromoutsidebecomesdeafening:Breaker,
Breaker,Breaker.

"You let him hit you, I'm flushing your weed down the toilet," she threatens, her soft voice just

carryingoverthecriesfromthecrowdoutside.

IglanceovermyshoulderandwinkatherbeforeIstepthroughthedoor.Itoldhernottowatchthe

fight.Idon'twantherouthereamongstthislot.It'sdistracting.

I duck down, sliding between the ropes lining the ring. Larry is standing in the middle clutching a

microphoneinhandasherilesupthecrowd,encouragingthemtospendmoreoftheirmoney.

"It'sBrandon'TheBreaker'Blaine!"
Thecrowdgoescrazy.Iremaininthecorner,myhandslooseatmysides.
"Heisundefeatedladiesandgents.Alegendinthisherering."Morecheers."Andfightinghimtonight

isamonster,arebel,theundisputedbadboyoftheprofessionalmiddle-weightworld,Ronnie'Wreckage'
Sanders!"

My opponent climbs through the ropes with his head held so fucking high it makes me smile. The

crowdboos him theway they doevery outside contestant. Thething about ThePit.... they support their
own.AndgiventhatLarrylovestobigupthewholeex-militaryshit,they'reallaboutsupportingLarry's
guys.Ofcourse,thatmeanstheybetonus,andthat'snogood,soLarrykeepstryingtobringinbiggerand
badderfightersinanattempttomakesomemoney.

Ronnie Sanders is just such a guy. He's banned from professional boxing because he half ripped a

guy’s ear off with his bloody teeth. The guy has issues, and Poppy asked me not to get hit, so I'm not
fuckingaroundwithhim.

Larry steps out of the ring and the bell rings over the backing noise of the cheering crowd. Ronnie

Wreckagegrinsatmeasifhe'sabouttoslaughterme.Hereinthisring,everythingoutsideofitceasesto
exist.Somethinginmeshifts.Iallowmyselftomorphintonothingbutrawaggressionandlethalinstinct,
because,tobeafighter—agoodfighter—youhavetostopthinkingandsimplyreact.

I take the few steps towards him. His smile drops a fraction, his eyes narrowing as he studies my

approach.Ifeintleftandheliftshisguard,defendinghisface.Idrivemyfistintohisguthardenoughthat
Iknowhe'llbewinded,buthetakestheopportunitytoswingatme.UsuallyI'dstandhereandtakeit,hell,
I'devenbeexcitedattheprospectofbeinghitbyaguywithhiskindofreputation,butIforcemyselfto
thinkthroughthesimplebloodlustandrememberPoppy.

Iduckandpopup,pullingmyfistbackandusingallthestrengthIhavewhenIdrivemyfistintohis

temple.Ifeelmyknucklescrackunderthepressure,andadullacheexplodesacrossmyhand.Hestaggers
backonhisfeetforasecondbeforehefallstohiskneesinfrontofmeandthenhegoesdownlikeafelled
tree.

The shouting and clapping shoots to a deafening level. I glance to the side of the ring where Larry

stands flanked by Finn and Kyan and Larry looks pissed. Finn has a small smile on his face and Kyan,
well,he'sgothisarmaroundsomeblondeinatightdress,grinningatherashestaresathercleavage.

Iturnaroundandstepoutofthering.Peoplepartliketheredsea,scamperingawayfrommeasImake

my way to the door in the corner of the room. I grip the door handle, pause, and take a deep breath. It
doesn't matter how calm I try to be, fighting does something to me, forcing something primal and
aggressivetothesurface.Mybloodrushesthroughmyveins,sendingmyheartbeatintooverdrive.Iclose
myeyesforasecondasItrytoforcetheragebackintothatplacewhereitsits,waitingtobreakfreeat
theslightestprovocation.

NosoonerdoIstepintothesmallcorridorthanPoppyappearsinthedoorwayofthestoreroom,her

armsfoldedaroundherself.HereyessearchmyfaceandIknowshemustseeabombwaitingtogooff.I
remain where I am, not wanting to get too close to her because honestly, I don't trust myself. It's here,
whenI'minthisplace,thatthelinebetweenrealityandnightmarebecomessoverythin.Beinginthatring
isadulleddownversionofwar.Therearenobullets,andyou'reprobablynotgoingtodie,butitstill
bringsoutthatreflexivesurvivalinstinct.

Poppywatchesmeforamoment.I'mfairlycertainshe'sunsureofhowtohandlemelikethis,andI

don'tblameher.Notonebit.

"Youokay?"sheasks.
Inodstiffly."Just...givemeasecond."
Shefrowns,offeringmeasmallsmileasconcernfillshereyes.Shecallstothelostfragmentsofmy

soulthatareburiedinshadowssothickandblack,Icanbarelyseeout.

Itrytoresisther,Ido,butit'sfutile.BeforeIknowit,I'mstormingacrossthespacethatseparatesus.

Hereyeswiden,andshetakesatremblingstepbackbeforemyhandslandonherwaistandmylipsslam
overhers.Shegoesrigidbeforeherbodysoftensagainstmine.She’ssotrusting.HerlipspartandIgroan
as her tongue brushes mine. Her small hands wind around my neck as she submits to me completely.
Everythingaboutherwashesoverme,calmingeverythinginitswake.Shebridlestherage.Iliftherand
herthighspart,wrappingaroundmyhips.Islamheragainstthewallandshetearsherlipsfrommine,her
breathsragged.Itracemynosedownthesideofherthroat,smilingasIbreathherin.

Bam.Thedoortothelockerroombangsagainstthebreezeblockwall,Larryshovinghiswaythrough.

Poppystiffensagain.Sighing,Idropherbacktoherfeet.

"Whatthehellwasthatshitoutthere,huh?"Larry’sfaceisred,hiseyeswildashethumbsbackinthe

directionofthering."Shitlikethatain'tgonnawinmenomoney,son.Youpullstuntslikethatoneandno
jackassisgonnafightyou.Jesus."

IgripPoppy'shipsandgentlymovehertotheside.Imoveinfrontofher,blockingLarry'sviewof

her."I'vetoldyoubeforeoldman,IfightthewayIfight,andIwin."Ishrugbeforefoldingmyarmsover
mychest.

"AndI'vetoldyoubeforethatifyoucan'tatleastmakeitentertaining,Iain'tgotnoneedforyou."His

lefteyetwitchesalittle."Shit-fire,ImeanIlikeyouandall,butabusinessisabusiness."Rubbinghis
handoverthebackofhisneck,hesighs.

"I'myourbestfighter,Larry."Icockabrow,keepingmyexpressionstony."Youknowit.Iknowit.

Halfthiscrowdonlycamehereforme,sotakeitorfuckingleaveit."

"Youmaybemybestfighter,only'causeyou'rehalflooneyasafuckingschizophrenicwombat,but

shit,noonewantstowatchyouknockthebastardoutfirstgo."

"PlentyofillegalfightringsinLondon,Larry.Icanwalkintoany-fucking-oneofthemtomorrow.You

justsaytheword."Idon'twanttobeanarsehole.IlikeLarry.Hegavemeameansofmakingmoneyand,
toadegree,asenseofbelongingthatIhadn'tfeltinalongtime,butI'mnotafuckingpuppet.I'mnotabout
togointhereandfighttoorders.Thesefightsmaybeillegal,buttheysureasshitdon'tneedtobefucking
fixed.

His expression falls blank. "None of those other fuckers are gonna put up with your shit, boy. How

manytimeshaveIhadtocomedragyourdrunkassouttayourapartmentandsoberyouup?Howmany
timeshaveIpulledyououttasomebullshitbarfightbeforethecopsgetcalledandyourAWOLassreally
getsintotrouble?Youthinkanyoneelseisgonnaputupwiththatmess?"Hisgazefallsbehindmeonto
Poppy."Besidesher,huh?"

I take half a step forward and open my mouth to respond when Poppy shoulders past me and

practicallysquaresuptoLarry.Toweringoverher,hestaresdownathertinyframe,hiseyebrowsraised.

"Youknowwhat,Larry?"Shetiltsherheadbacktoglareathim."Youarepartofhisproblem.Have

youeverpaidattentiontohowangryheiswhenheleaves?Maybeinsteadofdragginghisdrunkassoutof
hisflat,youshouldhavetriedtosendhimtogethelp.Don'tactlikeamartyr,becauseyou'renot."

Istandhere,unabletomoveorinterfere.
"Amartyr?Whosaidany—"
"Ifyoucaredabouthim,youwouldgethimhelp."
"That'swhatthefighting'sforto—"
"Oh,shutitwiththatbullshit,wouldyou?Lookathim."Shepointsatme."Doeshelooklikeyou've

helped him?" She shakes her head. "I think you may have meant well, Larry, but really, you should be
ashamedofyourself."

Hehangshisheadandtakesinadeepbreath.
"Poss,letmehandleit,"Isay,steppingforwardandwrappingmyfingersaroundherarmasIpullher

tomyside.

"Oh,yes,byallmeans,goahead,Brandon.Handleit."Shecrossesherarmsinfrontofherchestand

tapsherfootoverthefloor.Icanliterallyseethesteamswirlingupfromthetopofherhead.

"Takeitorleaveit,Larry,”Isay.“Youwantmetotakeapunch?Getbetterfighters.”Ipickupmybag

andplacemyarmaroundPoppy'sshoulders,basicallydraggingherfromtheroom.Sheturnsherheadto
nodoubtglareatLarryaswego.Damn,she'slikeadogwithabonewhenshe'smad.Ihaven'tseenthat
sideofherinsolong,I'dalmostforgottenitexisted.

I shoulder people out of the way as I push through the crowd and up the stairs to the pub. A high-

pitched wolf whistle sounds from the bar, and I look up to see Kyan on a bar stool, his fingers in his
mouth.

"Yes,takeitalloff,yousexybastard!"heshoutsacrossthebar,drawingtheattentionofeveryonein

theroom.

Poppyglancesatmybarechest.There'sasmallsmileonherlips."Youshouldprobablyputashirt

on."

Itakemyhoodyfrommybagandpullitovermyhead.
"Aw,allthosemusclesweremakingmecomeoverallunnecessary."Kyangrins,fanninghimself.
"Youbetterrun,Brandon."Havencomessaunteringaroundthebar,beerinhand."Kyan'sabigenough

sluthemaytrytotakeyounext."

Kyansmirksather,dragginghiseyesoverherbody.Havenisexactlythekindofgirlthatmostguys

can'thelpbutlookat,andwell,Kyanhasalotlessrestraintthanmost.Sheflicksherlong,blondehair
overhershoulder,smilingassheplayfullyhugsKyan.Hewrapsherinhisarms,andwhenhedoes,her
shorttopridesup.Iwatchashesweepshisfingersoverherbareskinandwinksoverhisshoulderatme.

Isighandrestagainstthebar.
"Oh,dearGod,"Poppyleansinandwhispersinmyear."TellmeHavenissmarterthantogothere."
Ishrug."IfLarryseeshimlookatherlikethathe'sadeadmanwalking."
Kyanpushesawayfromthebar,draggingHavenwithhimashestepsovertome."Ihadtwograndon

yourbeautifulfuckingarsetonight,"Kyansays.

"Gladsomeone'shappy."

"DidLarrygiveyoushit?"Finnasksquickly,pullingmyattentionfromKyan.
Iglanceathim."Whatdoyouthink?"
Hehuffsasmalllaugh."YouknowLarryandmoney."Yeah,Ifuckingdo.
Poppy'sfingerswindthroughmineandshestepsback,pullingmeawayfromthebar."Weshouldbe

going."Sheeyesmemeaningfully.

"Yeah,catchyoulaterguys."Iwaveasweheadtowardsthedoor.

ChapterTwentySeven

POPPY

“IThinkI’mInLove”-AndieCase

OME

TEN

MINUTES

AWAY

,"B

RANDON

SAYS

WITH

WAY

TOO

MUCH

ENTHUSIASM

"Idon'tunderstandwhywecan'tjustdrive."Idanglecarkeysfrommyfinger.Hesnatchesthemaway

andtossesthemontothecoffeetable.

Tenminutes,hesays,butwithhimthatmeansit'smostlikelyafifty-milehike.
"Thefreshairwilldoyougood,”hesays,slappingmyass.
"Oh,yes,becauseLondonairissorefreshing?"
Hegrins."Exactly."
"Fine.Tenminutes,"Isay."OneminuteovertenminutesandIamturningbackaround."Heheadsto

thedoorandIfollowhim."Idon'tlikewalking.It'scoldandnastyandIknowit'sgoingtobemorethan
tenminutesbecauseyouhavenoconceptoftime."

"Whine,whine,fuckingwhine.Comeon,woman."Heholdsthedooropenforme,waitingwithhis

armoutstretchedtoushermethrough.

Igivehimonelastglarebeforepassingunderneathhisarm."AnditbetterbegoodChinesefoodtoo."
"Babe,please.It'sbetterthansex."
"Now,that'sjustaninsult."
Hethrowshisheadbackandlaughsashelocksthedoor."Youhaven'ttriedtheircrispyseaweed.Me

andthatseaweedaregoingtogohaveaprivatemomentinthebathroomtogether."

Idragmyhandsdownmyfaceandshakemyhead."Ican'tevenwithyou,Brandon."
He chuckles as he places his arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple. And that simple touch

makesmyheartflutteralittle.

Outside,theairiscrispandtheever-presentsoundofLondontraffichumsinthebackground.Autumn

leavesskitteralongthepavementinfrontofus.Wepassinfrontofthebicycleshopandmarket,andthen
amanandwomanexplodeoutofashopdoor.Shelooksannoyed.Hisfaceisbeetred.

"Oh,someone'sinthedoghouse,"Brandonsays,laughing.Henodstowardthecouplebickering."Got

caughtstaringattheshopassistant'schestIbet."Ielbowhimintheribsandhegrunts."Sheshouldcut
himsomeslack.Imean,she'dhavetopulluphernightieforhimtogetalook."Helaughs.

"Youaresuchaboy,youdorealizethis."IsighasIglanceatmywatch."Andit'sbeenthreeminutes."
"Youbesthurryyourslowarseupifyouwanttomakethatten-minutemarker,"heteases.
"Mylegsareshort.Shutit."
"Yeah,”heglancesdownatme,“youarestumpyasfuck."
"You'reanasshole."Ishovehimandhestumblesonthesidewalk,catchinghimselfonabikerack.

Hisgazefallstothemetalrackthenliftsbacktome."Idon'tneedmykneecapsoranything."
Laughing,Ishrug.InoticeasignforaChinaWokandgrabhisarm."Look,there'saChineseplace."I

attempttodraghimtowardthedoorbuthekeepsgoing.

"Nope."Hepracticallyliftsmeoffmyfeet."It'snottheChineseplace."
"Oh,myGod.You'relikeapregnantwoman..."
"Areyoucallingmefat?"
IletmyeyesdroptohisstomachasIreachforthebottomofhisshirtandslidemyhandsunderneath,

pattinghisskinwithmycoldhands.Hesquealslikealittlegirlandshovesmeawayfromhim."Imean..."
Ilaugh.

"Okay,IreallyneedmyChineserightnow,butlater..."hescowlsatme,"later,you'regoingtopayfor

that."

"Promises,promises."
Hesmirksandpicksuphispace,forcingmetopracticallyjogtokeepupwithhim.

WENTY

FIVE

MINUTES

WALKING

MINUTES

STANDING

LINE

MINUTES

WAITING

FOR

OUR

ORDER

Bythetimeweleave,he'splugginghisearssohecan'thearmecomplainanylonger.Halfwaythroughthe
trekback,hegivesin,crouchesdown,andIclimbonhisback,smiling.Justlikeoldtimes.

"OhmyGod,"Brandonhuffs,shiftingmeonhisbackashefollowsthesidewalktohisflat.
"Idon'twanttohearit.Thatwaswayovertenminutes."
"Noshit.Ifeellikeafuckingpackhorse."
"No,”Igiggle,“apossum."
"Thatdoesn'tmakeitsoundanymoreglamourous."
"Itiswhatitis."Ikickathissidewithmyheels."Nowgo."Ilaugh.
"I swear to god, woman." He climbs the stairs to the first floor, stopping outside of his apartment.

"Youoweme."Hesnickers.

"Youowedmeformakingmewalk.Nowwe'reeven."
"Pft,notevenclose.It'satleastworthablowie."Sometimes,Idon'tthinkBrandonhasmaturedpast

theageoffifteen.

"Thankfully,wehavetheChinesethatisbetterthansex.Thatshouldtakecareofyoufortheeveningat

least."Ilaughasheunlocksthedoor.Thetake-outishungaroundhiswrist,makingitdifficultforhimto
pullthekeyfromthelock.Ihopoffhisbackjustasthedoorswingsopen.

Brandongoesstraighttothecoffeetableanddropsthesackontothemiddlebeforeploppingdownon

thefloorandleaningbackagainstthesofa.

"You know," I say as I sit next to him and stretch my legs out underneath the rickety table. "I really

misssittingatanactualtabletohaveameal."

Brandon's already tearing through the bags, opening the Styrofoam containers and setting them out.

Steamrisesfromthetake-outfoodandheinhalesit,lettingoutalowgroanasherubshishandstogether
andsmiles.

"Wow,"Isay,openingapairofchopsticks.
"I'mhavingamoment.Don'truinit."
"Uh-huh, okay." I grab the tub piled high with chicken and pinch a piece between the end of my

chopsticks,crammingitinsidemymouth.

Brandon'swatchingme,waitingonmyreaction.Thefoodisgood,amazingeven,butIamnotgiving

himthesatisfactionofsayingit'sbetterthansex.Iswallowandshrug,pokingthechopsticksaroundinthe
container."It'sgood."

"It'swastedonyou."Heshovesnoodlesinsidehismouth,stillchewingashepicksuptheboxofhis

preciousseaweed.Whenheopensitasaltysmellwaftsovertome.Hedigssomeoutofthecontainerand
thrustsitinmydirection."Trythis."

Snarling,Imoveawayfromtheshreddedgreenstuffhangingfromhischopsticks."Nothanks."
Herollshiseyesandgrins."You'resuchafuckingbaby."
"What?Ijustdon'twantyournastyseaweed,don'ttakepersonaloffensetoit."
Hepopsitinsidehismouth."Nowwho'sbeingtheunhealthyone?"hesays,raisinghiseyebrows.
"Crispy,deepfriedseaweed."Igrin."Yes,sohearthealthy."
"Closest I'm getting to green shit." He shrugs one shoulder, shoveling seaweed into his mouth as

thoughitmayrunaway.

Wesitonthefloorofhisflat,stuffingourfacesuntilwe’rebothabouttopop.WewatchDie Hard,

andoncethecreditsstarttorollacrossthescreen,Igototakeashower.

My gaze constantly veers to the door I intentionally left cracked, as I peel my clothes off. My heart

poundsinmychest.Iwanthimtocomeinhere.Ishouldjustaskhim,butIcan'tbringmyselfto.Thisis
allsoweird—tobesoclosetosomeone,yetsoafraid.

Iturnthetaps,stillwatchingthedoorasIallowthewatertoheatup.Whenthesteambeginstobillow

overthetopoftheshower,Iclimbin.Thescaldingwaterpummelsdownonme,theheatrelievingthe
tensionwoundsotightlyinmyshoulders.

Thehingestothebathroomdoorcreakandmypulsesteadilypicksup.Iwatchhisshadowthroughthe

showercurtainashepullshisshirtoverhishead.Iheartheclinkofhisbeltbucklewhenhedropshis
jeanstothefloor.Mystomachflitsandflutters.Mynervesareonedge.Andsecondslater,hepullsthe
curtainback,anirresistiblysexysmirkonhisface.Hiseyesdragovermybodysoslowlythatbythetime
theymeetmineagain,I'mburningup.

Ifighttokeepmyeyesonhisface,butfailmiserably,wonderingwhyI'msoashamedofmyattraction

to him. My gaze drifts over his chest, his tattoos, over his stomach, and I swallow. The only thought
running through my head right now is one of him shoving me against the wall, trapping me between his
hard body and the tile. I stand here, unable to move as he steps into the shower and closes the space
betweenus.ThesecondhishandsgripmywaistI’mforcedtoclosemyeyesbecausehistouchfeelsthat
damngood.MyfingersshakeslightlyasItrailthemdownhischest,slowlytracingovereachbumpofhis
abs.AndIfeelsoweakforhim.ThisiswhatBrandon’salwaysdonetome:weakenedmeevenwhenI
wishIwerestrong.

Ifollowthewaterasitcascadesoverhishardmuscle.AsmallsmirkthatisallBrandontoucheshis

lipsandithasmyheartviolentlyhammeringinmychest.Heleansinandbrusheshislipsacrosstheside
ofmyneckandItiltmychinback,restingmyheadagainstthecooltile.IamrightwhereIwanttobe,
trappedbetweentheheatofhisbodyandthecoldwall.

"Need help?" his deep voice rumbles in my ear as he nips at my neck. And before I even have a

chance to answer, he's pinned my arms to the wall, his mouth over mine. And we fall into that state of
blissneitherofuscandeny.

ChapterTwentyEight

BRANDON

“Painkiller”–NothingButThieves

BEEN

MONTH

BEING

WITH

OPPY

MONTH

WHERE

FOUND

FORM

PEACE

LTHOUGH

acceptedthefactthatlifegoesonandallyoucandoistrytoslogyourwaythroughtheshitthebestyou
can,Istillfeelguilty.

I'mpainfullyawareoftheshittycircumstancesthatIlivein,andthefactthatshe'swillinglyjoinedme

inthistinyapartment.SheworksinthedayandIfightatnight.EverytimeIfight,thatlittleswitchinside
meflips.SometimesIlikeitbecauseitservesasanoutletfortherage.

Shehatesit.Shehatesthefighting,andshehatesLarrysimplybecauseheownsthefightring,butwhat

shedoesn'tseeisthatwithoutit,Ireallyamgoodfornothing.It'stheonlythingI'mgoodatanymore,and
itpaysthebills.It’snotthefightthat’stheproblem,it'stheaftermath,thelongmomentswheremymind
goes into complete overdrive, survival mode. It feels like I'm right there in a war zone all over again,
fighting,ruledpurelybyinstinct.Andit'sinthosetimesthatIcan'tseePoppyclearlyanymore.Sheslips
intothebackgroundforafewmoments,asecondaryconsiderationtomydesperateanimalreflexes.

I'msittingonthecouchholdingabagoffrozenpeastomyjawwhenIhearherkeyinthelock.Fuck.I

shovethepeasbehindasofacushionjustintimeforhertowalkin,twoplasticbagsstuffedwithfoodin
herhands.

"Hey."Igetupandtakethesacksfromher,dumpingthemonthekitchenside.
"Brandon?"
Mybackistoher.Idon'twanttoturnaround."Yeah?"Itakeshitoutofbags,shovingitincupboards.

Hell,Ihavenoideawherethiscrapevengoes.

"Why..."Shegrabsontomyshoulderandturnsmearound,hergazenarrowingonmythrobbingcheek,

"isyourfacered?"

"Fight,"Isayaswayofanexplanation.Imean,shit,Idofightforaliving.
Rollinghereyes,sheopensthecabinetIjustclosed,takesthecartonofmilkout,holdsitupwithan

archedbrowandopensthefridge,placingthemilkinitsrightfulplace."Idon'tknowwhyyouletLarry
bullyyouintogettinghit."

Ah,fuck."Idon't,"Isaydefensively.Thetruthis,Ilike getting hit, and although things are so much

better with Poppy in my life, I will always seek out that small punishment. I will always like the pain,
whichmakesmeaprickbecauseIknowitupsetsher."Hetookmyadvice,gotabetterfighter."Ishrug.

Shespinsaroundandglaresatme,thosegreyeyesofhersstormyashell."Nooneisabetterfighter

thanyou.Tryagain."Shetapsherfootoverthefloorandcocksherhip,asignshe'sreallygettingpissed.

Itakeasteptowardsher,smilingasIwrapmyarmsaroundherwaist."Babe,yourfaithinmeiscute,

butthereisalwayssomeonebetter."

"Okay,so,hehityou?Youtriedtoblockhimandhegottheupperhand?Youletsomeotherguygetthe

upperhand?"

Iliftmyshirt,showcasingtheblossomingpurplebruisewhereIletthefuckernailmeinthekidney.

"Doubledmeoverandwentfortheface.Thekidsgotskills."Itrailmyfingersoverhercheekandher
expressionsoftensslightly."You'resexywhenyou'remad."Ismirk,leaningintokissher.

Shepullsbackandcoversmymouthwithherhand."You'relyingtome,BrandonO’Kieffe."
"I'mnot..."Imumblebeneathherpalm.
She presses her hand harder over my mouth as she inches her face toward mine. "Your left eye is

twitching.Italwaysdoesthatwhenyoulie.Youmaybeskilledatalotofthings,lyingisnotoneofthem."
Asmallsmileflickersoverherlipsandshedropsherhandfrommymouth.

"Oh,I'mskilledatalotofusefulthings."Ismirk,movingtokissheragain.Sheletsme,foraboutthree

seconds.

"That'supfordebate."Sheturnsawayfromme,andIpickupthedishcloth,twistingitaroundinthe

airandflickingitatherarse.Sheyelpsandstartsbackingawayfromme,herhandsheldouttowardme
off.Hereyesflickuptomyface,narrowingbeforeshespinsaroundandtakesoffrunningdownthehall.I
strideafterher.Isnagheraroundthewaistwhenshereachesthebedroomandtossherfacedownontothe
bed. I slap her arse again, hard enough that she squeals and rolls onto her back. Her face is flushed, a
widesmileonherlipsasshestaresupatme.

"You'reanass,"shesaysbreathlessly.
"Don't pretend you don't like a little spanking." I grip her thighs, pulling them apart and settling

betweenthem."Andyouowemeaproperkiss."

Her warm breath touches my lips before I press my mouth to hers. And there it is, the calm, the

overwhelming sense of peace, that feeling of something being so right it soothes your very soul. Her
fingersglideupthebackofmyneck,hernailsscratchingovermyscalpasshesurrenderstothekiss.I
kissheruntilshe'sbreathless,andthenIsitup,pullingherwithmeuntilshe'scradledinmylap.Herarms
windaroundmyneck,herfingertipsabsentmindedlydrawingcirclesovermyback,sweepingalongthe
numbareawheremyscarstarts.

"Ihaveasurpriseforyou,"Isay.
Sheglaresatme,asmallsmileinchingoverherlips."Icanonlyimagine."
"Sorrytosay,itdoesn'tinvolvemenaked."Ishrugoneshoulder.
"Oh,really?Then,what,praytell,isit?"
Ileanover,pushingherbackasIreachforthebedsidetable.Herarmstightenaroundmyneckandher

lips brush my throat as I open the drawer and take out the small object. "Close your eyes. Open your
hand."

Shehesitates."Isweartogod,ifitisasmallanimalorinsect,Iwillhaveaheartattackanddie..."
"This is not primary school, and I'm not keeping a frog in the bedside table." I smirk. "Close your

eyes."

"Tellmeagainit'snotalivingcreature."Shestaresatme."Iwanttomakesurethateyebrowofyours

doesn'tstarttwitching."

"Poppy!"Isay,exasperated."Nocreatures."
Shetakesadeepbreath,closeshereyesandunwrapsherarmsfromaroundmyneck,holdingouther

hand.Iplacethekeyinherhand."Okay.Openyoureyes."

She stares down at her palm and picks up the miniature stuffed possum keychain, the key dangling

fromit.

"Aww, a tiny stuffed rat to match your tattoo." She giggles. "What's the key for? If you tell me the

pub..."

"Firstly,it'sapossum.Inbothinstances."Ipointatthekeyringandthenatmychest.
"Uh-huh."
"Andthekeyisforournewflat."
The grin fades just a touch as her eyes fly back down to her palm. "New flat?" Her face scrunches

withconfusion."But..."

"Don'tpretendthisplaceisn'tashithole."Honestly,I'mnervous.Poppylivinghereis,well,afriend

helping a friend I guess. Only we're not just friends anymore. Still...I'm basically making it official
withoutevenaskingher.

"Ours?"Sheswallows.Hereyeshaven'tmovedawayfromthekeyinherhand."Ourflat."
"Yep." I go for casual, trying to hide my anxiety. "Unless you....you know, if you were planning on

gettingyourownplace."Ishrug."Icoulddowithanewplaceanyway."

Shefinallylooksupatmeandshe'schewingonherbottomlip."No,it's...it'sfine.It'sgreat.It'sreally

sweetofyou."

Ihissabreaththroughmyteeth."Sweet.Okay,notwhatIwasgoingfor,but..."
Shaking her head, she sighs. "You know I suck with this stuff. You make me all vulnerable and

just...Ugh.Myonlyplaceiswithyou,Brandon,andyouknowit."

"Good.” I push her back on the bed, kissing down the side of her jaw. “We move tomorrow." Her

warmbreathblowsacrossmycheekbeforeherfingerspressagainstmylips,forcingmejustafewinches
awayfromher.Istaredownatherandnarrowmyeyesatthesmallfrownknittinghereyebrowstogether.

"Howmuchdepositdidyouhavetoputdown?"
"Sixmonths’rent,"Isay,warily.
"Howmuchisthemonthlyrent?"
"Don'tworryaboutit.”Isigh.“Ihavemoney."
Sheshovesmeoffherandsitsup,wipingherhandsdownherface."Brandon,Ijust..."Sheshakesher

headbeforehereyeslockwithmine."Youaremoreimportanttomethananyflat."

Iflashherasmallsmile."Babe,Imakemoremoneyoffonefightthanmostpeoplemakeinamonth."
"It'snotthemoney,well...Imeanitis,butit's—it'snot."Closinghereyes,sheshakesherheadagain.

"Youarenotthesamepersonafterafight.Notatall.AndIdon'tknowhowmuchlongeryoucankeep
goingatthat.HowmuchlongerIcan..."Sheswallows.

"Howmuchlongeryoucanwhat?”Thatfamiliarragespikes,grippingmeinitsclutches.“Dealwith

yourfucked-upfella?"IclenchmyfistsasIfightbacktheanger.Anyonebuther.Itcancomeoutaround
anyone,butnotfuckingher.

"No,Brandon. I just..."She hesitates andI can tell there'ssomething she istiptoeing around. "I just

don'twantanythingtohappentoyou."

Ifrownather,sittingbackonthebedandproppingmyelbowsonmyknees."Whatdoyouexpectme

todo,Poppy?IfightandImakemoney.Howisitanyworsethangettingpaidtoshootpeopleinawar
zone?"Isigh.It'stheonlythingI'mgoodfor,theonlythingI'mgoodat.Istillhaveenoughpridetoearn
moneyandpaymyway,evenifitisthepikeyway.

"Youarestillinawarzone.Andthat'swhatscaresme."
"Iknow.Trustme,Ifuckingknow.Butthere'snotalotofopportunitiesforanAWOLsoldiernow,is

there?"

Her gaze veers off to someplace that's not here, and then she shakes her head. "I hate that you ever

wentintothefuckingarmy.Hateit."

"Can'tchangeit.Allyoucandoissurvive."Igetupandwalkoutoftheroom,headingforthekitchen.

MyhandlingersoverthehandleofthecupboardwhereIkeepthewhiskey.Thisshitissofuckinghard.I
dropmyhandandwalkaway,pickingupapairoffingerlessglovesfromthebookshelfinthecorner.I
strapthematthewristsandtaketothebagthat'shanginginthecorner.Theheavychaincreaksagainstthe

ceilinghookeachtimemyfistconnectswiththeworn,bloodstainedcanvas.

"Brandon."
IpauseandglanceovermyshoulderjustasPoppyplacesherarmsaroundmywaist.Herpalmsslide

overmybarestomach.Hercheekpressesovermyback.Igripthebagandrestmyforeheadagainstit,
breathingheavily.

"I'msorry,"shewhispers."Andthankyou."
Itrailmyfingersdownherforearm,coveringherhandwithmyown.Inhaling,Iturntofaceher.Her

arms fall to her sides. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she looks up at me. "I just want you to be
happy."

"Andthat'sthesweetestthingyou'veeversaid."
Asmilepullsatmylips."Howabout,Iloveyou?"
"Thatgoeswithoutsaying,nowdoesn'tit?"
"Gettingcocky."Igripahandfulofherhairandpullherupontohertiptoesbeforekissinghertoshow

herjusthowmuchIloveher.

ChapterTwentyNine

POPPY

“Colors”Audienremix–Halsey

RANDON

SPRAWLED

OUT

THE

COUCH

GLARING

OPE

"What?"shesaysassheshovesanunpackedmovingboxoutofthewaywithherfoot."It'sbadluck

nottohaveahousewarmingparty."Hecocksabrowather,andsheglancesatme."Istickbythefactthat
he'sacunt,Poppy."Shepointsherfingerathim."Imean,lookathim.Allsulkingoveraparty."

He drags both hands down his face, tossing his head back on an exasperated groan. Hope mumbles

somethingunderherbreathonherwaytothekitchen.

Brandonlooksupatme.
Ishrug."Youknowhowsheis..."
"Apaininmyarse."
Ismile."It'sjustsomeoftheguysfromThePit.It'llbefun."
He grumbles and flops back on the couch covering his face with a throw pillow. I hear the

unmistakable pop of a champagne bottle, and Brandon jumps. Seconds later Hope's in the living room,
shoving champagne flutes in our faces. I take mine and Brandon rolls his eyes. He stands and stumbles
intothekitchen,comingbackoutwithhisbottleofwhiskey.

"Oh,Moet'snotgoodenoughforyou,eh?"Hopesays."And,youknow,I'moffendedyoudrinkthat

shitewhiskey.What'swrongwithMcGrathWhiskey,youcunt?"

"It'sconnectedtoyou,"hewinksashetwiststhecapfromhisbottleandtakesaswig.
There's a knock on the door. Brandon groans and mumbles a few swear words as he sets the bottle

down and goes to open it. Kyan, Finn, and Haven are all huddled at the doorway. Brandon extends his
arm,motioningthemin.ThesecondHavenstepsinside,sheshovesabottleofwhiskeyandapinkblob
intoBrandon'sarm."Whatthe..."

"FromMumandDad."
"Yeah," Kyan laughs, "Lars said there's no better gift than whiskey and a bald pussy." He snickers

again.HavenshoveshimandFinnjustshakeshishead.

"A fucking cat?" Brandon says. He turns around holding a little pink kitten with the tiniest tuft of

orangehairinthemiddleofhishead.Hisbigyelloweyesdartaroundtheroom.He'stheugliestthingI've
everseen.

"What..."Hopestepsforwardandpointsatthecat."Isthat?"
"It'sapussycatwithnohair,"Kyansays.
ShegivesanunimpressedlooktoKyan."Itlookslikeitgotintoafightwithalawnmower."
"Yeah,well,MadameWrinklesgotitonwithoneofthepikeycatsoutinthebackalley."Heshrugs.

"Poorlittlebastardislikeahairy,baldmix."

Brandon shakes his head. "I'm not keeping a cat." He places the kitten on the floor and it backs up

againsthislegs.

"Aw,it'swellcute,whatwithitslittlepatchofhair."Hopecrouchesdown,clickinghertonguetocall

itover.Thekittenunwarilymakesitswayovertoherandshegrabsit,scoopingitupinherarmsasshe
turnstome."Whatareyougoingtonameit?"

"It'snotgettinganame,"Brandonsays,grabbinghisbottleofwhiskeyfromthetable.
Sheholdsthekittenup,touchinghernosetoitsface."Hewhoshallnotbenamed.Ah,blessit."
FinnpatsBrandononthebackashewalkspasthim,pullingavapepenfromhispocketashetakesa

seatontheedgeofthecouch.

"Okay,noweveryone'shere,alongwithnewcomer,Voldemort."Hopehugsthekittentohercheek.
"Oh,good,”Brandonsayswithaclap,“she'sattachedtoit.Shecantakeithome."
"Getadrink,we'regoingtoplayagame,"Hopegrins,ignoringhim.
Brandonthrowshisheadbackagainstthesofacushions."Webesthavemorefuckingwhiskeyinthe

house."

"Brandon,youhavetwobottles..."Isay.
"Thankfuck."
"Well,asalways,he'sadelight,"HopeglaresatBrandonasshepullsoutalong,blackboxfromher

purse.

ImakemywayovertothecouchandperchmyselfonBrandon'slap."Benice."Irunmyfingersover

thestubbleonhisjawandkisshimonthecheekbeforeIwhisper,"I'llmakeitworthyourwhilelater."

Hescowlsatme."Fine.Butwearen'tkeepingthecat."
"Youknow,”Havensays,“peoplepayliketwograndforthosehairlesscats.Wesoldtheotherkittens

foreighthundredquideachandthey'renotevenpurebreds."

"Well,fuckingshit.Somebodyhandthelittlefuckerhisballsandgethimonit,"Brandonmumbles.
"Game,yousaid?"I'mdonetalkingaboutthecat.
Hopeopensthebox."CardsAgainstHumanity."SheglancesatBrandonandsmiles."It'scalledthe

gameforhorriblepeople.Rightupyouralley,youfuckingpikey."

"Well,youareasoullessginger.Andyoudidbringit..."
"Youdorealiseifit'sjustpurefact,it'snotaninsult,youtwat."
"Thetwoofyouareabouttodomyheadin,"Imumble."Canwejustplaythegameandhaveyoutwo

shutup?"IheadtothekitchenandopenthefridgewhileHopeexplainstherules.Ipopafewpizzasinto
the oven and pour myself another glass of champagne, and by the time I get back into the living room,
everyoneisinalaughingfit.

"Okay.”Brandonholdsupacardwithasmile."'AndtheAcademyawardforfiringarifleintotheair

whileballsdeepinasquealinghoggoestoMr.Clean,rightbehindyou'."Hetossesthecardsontothe
table."Thatonehastobethewinner."

"Thankyou,"Kyansays,feigningabow.
BrandonpatsFinnontheshoulder."Finn,'Beingamotherfuckingsorcererandmouthherpes'wasa

closesecond."

"Whatkindofgameisthis,Jesus?"
Brandonglancesup,smilingwithVoldemortinhislap."Thegameforhorriblepeople,poss."

ChapterThirty

POPPY

“ThisTown”–NiallHoran

"I'

SEE

YOU

TOMORROW

ORIS

."I

WAVE

PULL

COAT

Dorisglancesoverthetopofapatientfile,hergazedriftingtoMr.Brightonontheothersideofthe

room.

"I'mwalkinghimdownonmywayout,don'tworry."
"Mr.Grumpy."
"He'snotthatbad,"Iwhisper,asIswatherontheshoulder.
"Iguessnotforyou.Youlike'emallroughandtumble.Shaggingafighter,bestfriendswiththatIrish

girl."Shegiggles.

Mr. Brighton walks to the door and holds it open for me. "After you, love," he says with a smile

beforeheglancesatDoris."Havealovelyweekend,youoldwinch."

"Sameaffectiontoyou,youwanker."
Hechucklesandweheadtowardthefrontentrance.
"Anybigplansfortheweekend?"heasks.
"Notreally."
"Ah,comeonnow.Loverboy'snotgotplansforyou?"
Ishrug.
"Hestillfighting?"IturnjustasMr.Brightonpullsacigarettefromhiscoatpocketandsticksittohis

lips. Cupping his hand, he flicks the lighter and takes a deep drag. "He is then," he says and smoke
billowsfromhislips.

Mr.BrightonistheonlypersonoutsideofourgroupoffriendsI'vetoldthetruthaboutBrandon.And

I'mnotsurewhy,maybebecausetheyaresoalikeinways,maybebecauseIwantedsomeonewhohad
beenthroughasimilarsituationtotellmeBrandonwouldbeokay.

"Hesaysit'sallhe'sgoodat."
Henodsknowinglyashetakesanotherdrawfromthecigarette."Youknow,Poppy,Hollywood...”—

the smoke slowly leaks from his lips—"is a crock of shit, they paint this picture of war where it's all
black and white...it's not. There's a million shades of gray in there." Another swift drag. "I've not met
manysoldierswhoactuallywantedtokillsomeone."

He's not really looking at me any longer, more like through me. It’s the same fogged-over look

Brandongetswhenhetalksaboutthewar.It’slikeitdragsthemrightbacktothatdesert,holdingthem
hostageintheirownhead.Andthoughthereissilencebetweenus,Ijuststandhereandwaittoseewhen
Mr.Brightonwillcomeback.

Squeezinghiseyesclosed,heliftsthecigarettetohislips,hishandslightlyshakingashepuffsaway.

"Killingaperson,itfuckswithyourhead.It'snotlikeinthemovies,Poppy.Mostofusaren'trunningout
thereinabattlecrywithgunsraised,bulletsflying.No.Mostofus,whetherwewilladmititornot,are
scaredshitless.Andthosehorrorswelivedayinanddayout,theydon'tevergoaway.Theyhauntyou.
They whisper to you in your sleep." He hesitates for a moment. "Sometimes I think the guys who died
weretheluckyonesbecausetheyhavepeace,andthat'sadamnsightmorethanIcansayformyself."

ThesoundofthetrafficontheroadswirlsaroundmeandIfeelasthoughIshouldsaysomething,but,

I'mataloss.

"Whydoyouthinkthefightingissobadforhim?"heasks.
"It'suh,just thewayhe isafter.He goesintothis rage.He likesitwhen theyhithim, andthenhe's

just..."Ishakemyheadandshrug."Justdown.Hejustgetssodown.Idon'tknowthatpartofhim."

"Well,I'lltellyouwhatIthink.Ithinkthefightingdoesn'tmattermuchbecausethefighting'snotthe

root cause of it, you know? He stops fighting, that war, those horrors," he taps his forefinger over his
temple,"they'llstillbethere.Untilhecanlearnhowtoignorethoseghostsclingingtohisback,well..."

Chillbumpsrushovermyskinanditfeelslikeastonejustsanktothebottomofmystomachbecause

doesn'titallsoundsohopeless?

"Hey,poss."
Mr.BrightonglancesovermyshoulderandIturnaround.Brandon'safewstepsbehindme,hishand

shovedinhispockets.Thebrightblueshirthe'swearingisclingingtohischest.

"Hey,babe."Ismilewhenhestopsbesideme."Brandon,thisisMr.Brighton.MrBrighton,Brandon."
Thetwomenshakehandsandthere'samomentofawkwardsilence.Mr.Brightonclearshisthroat,

lockinghisgazeonBrandonashenodstowardme."YourPoppyistherayofsunshinearoundhere,you
knowit?"

Brandonsmiles.
AcabpullsovertothecurbandMr.Brightontossesthecigarettedown."Youtakecareofher,"he

says,claspinghishandoverBrandon'sshoulder."Youtakecareofher."Thenheturnstome."You'vegot
agoodheart,love.AndIthankyouforthat."Awearysmileinchesacrosshisfaceasheheadstowardthe
cab.

"Seeyounextweek,Mr.Brighton,"Isay.
Hewavesasheclimbsintothecab.
"He'smyfavorite,"ItellBrandonaswewalkdownthesidewalk."Heremindsmeofyou."

ChapterThirtyOne

BRANDON

“SheisLove”-Parachute

TAKE

OPPY

HAND

AND

LEAD

HER

DOWN

THE

STEPS

THE

SUBWAY

"YouknowIcandrive?"
Ishakemyhead."We'regoingintothecity."Londonatrushhour...we'llbethereforhours.
Icanfeelhereyesonme,watching.I'llbehonest,theundergroundatrushhourisapersonalbrandof

hellforme,butIwanttodothisforher.Iwanttoshowhersomekindofnormalcyandbeabletogiveher
alife.Thatinvolvesdoingshitoutsideoftheapartment.So,Igripherhandaswefightourwaythrough
thecommutersandsqueezeontoapackedtube.

Ihatehavingpeopleatmyback,andmybodylocksupwithtensionassweattricklesdownmyneck.

Poppysubtlyshifts,movingbehindmeandwrappingherarmsaroundmeasIgripthepolebesideme.
Herhandrestsonmystomach.Iplacemineoverit,threadingourfingerstogether.Mygazedartsaround
atthepeoplepressinginonus,andthesecondwereachourstop,I'mdraggingPoppythroughtheopen
doors.Shenevercomplains,simplyjogstokeepupwithme.WhenIreachthetopofthestepsItakea
deepbreathasthetightnessinmychestevaporates.

"Okay?"sheasks.
Inod."Yeah,comeon.We'llbelate."
"Youstillhaven'ttoldmewhatwe'redoing."
"That's generally what a surprise entails, you not knowing." I smirk at her. We move through the

crowdedstreetsofcentralLondonuntilwe'rerightbytheriver.Itsmellslikesilt,oil,andshit.

PoppyshootsmeafunnylookwhenIleadhertowardstheLondonEye."You,theguywhorefusesto

do, in your own words, touristy shit, are going to the London Eye?" She puts a palm to my forehead.
"Haveyoufallenill,babe?"

"Don'tsayIdon'tdoromanticshitforyou,"Isay,smiling.Ileadherintothesmallticketbuildingand

handtheguybehindthedeskapieceofpaper.

Heglancesoveritandsmileswide.“Mr.West,followme."
"Mr.West…so...”Shesuspiciouslyliftsherbrowatme,“nowyou'reFinn?"
"Ifthecreditcardfits."
TheguyliftsalittleropethatIthinkissupposedtomakethislookabitVIP.Wewaitamomentas

podspassusoneatatime."Ah,hereyougo.”Anemptypodpullsupandheopensthedoor,sweepinghis
armtotheside."Allyours."

WestepinsideandPoppy'seyesdarttotheicebucketandboxofchocolatesrestingonthewooden

benchinthecentreofthepod.

"Okay,nowIknowyoumustbeill,"Poppysays,grinningeartoear.
Ishrug."Youlikethiskindofshit."Whenwewerekids,Poppyalwaysusedtodrawpicturesofher

weddinglikeapropergirl.Iusedtoteaseherforit.LittledidIknowthatshewassecretlyplottingtoget
meinthatdamnsuitatthetime.Thatkidcrushedonmesohard.Itwascute.

"Well,aren'tyouromantic,Mr.West?"Shegiggles.
"I'llbesuretopassthatontoFinn."Thepodstartstomove,cruisingatasnail’space.Ikindofwish

thethingwouldpickupsomeg-force.Itwouldmakeitmoreinteresting.

Poppy lifts the bottle of champagne from the ice and reads the label. "Going overboard a bit?" she

saysunderherbreath.Thetopcomesoutwithapop,andinsteadofpouringadrinkintooneofthetwo
glasses,shedrinksstraightfromthebottle.

"Youalwayswereaclassychick."Isnort.
Sheeyesme."Saysthepikeybecauseheknowswhatclassis?"
"Hey,mymahadatopofthelinecaravan.Sheevenhadscattercushions.That'slikeluxury,I'llhave

youknow.Thedogthatwaschainedtoithadapropercollarandeverything.NobailingtwineforSean."

"Ididlovethatdog."Shelaughs."AndIthinkyourdogwastheonlyonewhoactuallyhadaname.If

that'snothigh-classpikey,Idon'tknowwhatis."

"Yeah,malovedSeanConnery."Igrin."Shewasaclassybird."
"She'stheonewhotaughtmetodrinkstraightfromthebottle,youknow?Lessdishes."Shecracksa

smile.

Ah,fuck.Poppy'sdadwentmadbecauseshecametomycousin'sbirthdaypartywhenshewasfifteen

andmymagotherdrinkingcider.Iguessafewyearsacrossthepondandheforgotthefundamentalsof
beingIrish.IhadtopracticallycarryPoppyhomeanddepositheronthedoorstep.MeandConnorrang
thebellanddidarunner.

"God,yourdadfuckinghatedus."Ilaugh."Ithoughthewasgoingtoshankmeatthewedding."
"Hehatedallguys,butespeciallyyou.Hesaidyouwereacesspoolofdisease,withlovethough.He

saidthatwithlove."

"Hey.Thatwasn'tmyfault.SluttySuziegotknockedupandeveryonethoughtitwasme.Ionlylether

blowmeonetimeforfuck'ssake."

"Thiswassweetofyou."Smiling,shepushesuponhertiptoestogivemeakiss.Ashortkiss—afterI

justdroppedoverthreehundredquidonthispod—andthenshewalksovertothewindow,lookingout
overthedirtycityasthesundropsbehindthehorizon.

I'mnotoneforaview,butthenagain,Icouldpushherupagainstthatglassandmakethisdatereally

memorable. I walk towards her and place my hands on her hips, pulling her back against me. When I
brush my lips over her neck, she tilts her head to the side to give me better access. The smell of her
shampooinvadesmysenses,relaxingmelikesomekindofdrug,andIsmileagainstherskin.Iglidemy
handaroundherfrontandslipitbeneaththematerialofhertop.

Andthen,sheyanksawayfromme."Really?Thisthingisnothingbutwindows."
"And?"
Sherollshereyesagain."Youaresuchaguy."
"Butyoujustlooksoprettystandingthereinthesunset."Ismirk."You'dlookbetternakedthough..."
"No."ShedrawsawayfrommeandIstepafterher."Brandon,"shewarns.
ShebacksuptotheglassandIcageherin,pressingmyhandsoneithersideofherhead."Possum,"I

breatheagainstherlips,waiting.

Herbodyrelaxesandaslowmoanseepsfromherlips."Don'tdothistome,youasshole."
"I'mjuststandinghere,babe."Ismile,rollingmylipsoverhers.Herchintipsupafractionandshe

pressesherlipsagainstmine.Igrabheraroundthewaistandliftherontothehandrailthatrunsalongthe
podasIstepbetweenherthighs.HerlipspartandIswipemytongueagainsthers,kissingheruntilshe

breathlesslypullsaway.

"God,youaresuch..."shekissesme,"anasshole.Ihateyou,youknowthatright?"
"Nah,babe.Youloveme.Imean,Ididgetyouchampagne."
"Iloveyou,butIhateyou."
"Oh,you'remeantoday."Ikissheragainandshemoansintomymouth.
"Iwanttofuckyou,"shewhispers."That'swhyIhateyou."
"Done." I grab the bottom of my shirt and yank it over my head in two seconds flat. Fucking on the

LondonEye.Iamdown.

Hereyespopwideandsheshakesherhead,hereyesgluedtomybarechest."Putyourshirtbackon."
"Yousureaboutthat,poss?"Iwhisperinherear.
Herteethtearintoherlipashergazedriftsovermybody."Jail...wewillgotojail."
"OrenduponPornHub..."
Sheburiesherheadinherhands,laughing."We'vealreadybeenonheretenminutes.Wedon'thave

enoughtime."

"Yougivemetoomuchcredit,babe,youreallydo."SheopenshermouthtosaysomethingbutIpull

herofftherailingandspinaround,layingherdownonthebench.Itrailmyfingersupherthigh,herbreath
hitchingasIslowlylifttheskirtofherdress.Hereyeslockwithmine.Herteethsinkintoherbottomlip.
WhenIpullherunderweartotheside,asmallwhimperleavesherlipsandIgrin.

"Brandon..."
"Hmm."Idropmylipstotheinsideofherthigh,brushingthemoverherskinasImoveupwardinch

bytorturousinchuntilshe'sshaking.

"Ihateyou,"shesays,herlegsdroppingtothesideasshethrowsherheadbackonagroan.
Somuchforher'wedon'thavetime.'
Withinsecondsshe'stremblingfromheadtotoe,astringofmoansleavingherlipsasherfingerswind

inmyhair.Islideherunderwearbackinplaceandshesitsup,hercheeksflushedandherhairfallingout
ofitsponytail.

Icheckmywatch."Eightminutestospare."
Sheglaresatme,andIshrugasItaketheboxofchocolate,removethelid,andshovelafewtruffles

insidemymouth."Youandchocolatemakeagoodmix."Iwinkather."Wantone?"Iask,holdingoutthe
box.

Sighing, she reaches in and grabs one, taking a small bite. "You're sweet, Brandon. Perverted, but

sweet.IthinkI'llkeepyou."

"IsthatyourwayofsayingI'mgoodateatingpussy?Becauseyou'rewelcome."Ismirkandgototake

anotherhandfulofchocolates,butthey'reallgone."Thefuck?Whoputslikefivechocolatesinabox?"

"Dear God...it's not a box of Celebrations." She snatches the box away, staring inside before she

chucksittothefloor."Ihopeyouthrowupfromthat."

"That'snotnice."

ChapterThirtyTwo

POPPY

“Unsteady/SoAlive”–HaleyKlinkhammer

WATCH

THE

BOATS

THEY

DRIFT

DOWN

THE

HAMES

THE

LIGHTS

SHINING

FROM

THE

TOP

THEIR

MASTS

."I

CAN

believeIletyoudothattomeontheLondonEye,"Isay,tippingthebottleofcheapciderback.

"Let?”Hehuffsalaugh."Ithinkyou'llfindmysmoothmoveswerejusttoomuchforyou."Hetakesa

massivebiteofhiskebab,spreadinggarlicmayoandchilisaucealloverhisface.

"Uh-huh."Hetakesanotherbite,thistimealargechunkofmeatfallstohislapwithasplat."Ican't

believeyoulikethosedisgustingthings.It'smostlikelysomeplagueriddledsewerratthey'veskewered
andfedtoyouforafewquid."

"It'smanfood."
"Anditwillgiveyoumanshits."
Hebobshisheadtotheside."Worthit.Anyway,thatshit,”hepointsatthebottleinmyhand,“will

giveyouthehangoverfromhellinthemorning.HowaboutIshotgunthetoilet,youcanhurlinthebath."

"Wow,andpeopleswearchivalryisdead."
"KeeptellingyouI'maclassact."
I sigh because, sometimes, with Brandon, that's all I can do. I shouldn't find his immaturity as

endearingasIdo,butIcan'thelpmyself.

Hegrabsapieceofmeatandholdsituptomyface."Here.Tryit."
Ishrinkawayfromthemeathe'sdanglingbetweenhisfingers."Idon'twantany."
Heshovesitinmyfaceagain."Takeabite."
"Look,Idon'twantyournastymeat."
Aslowgrinworksoverhisface."Really?"hesays,wigglinghiseyebrows.
"Asshole."
"Seriously though, you're missing out." He swipes the bottle of cider from me and takes a swig,

shakinghisheadandsquintingoneeyelikehe'shavingastroke."Oh,god.Thatshitislikevinegar."

"Complimentsthetasteofrat,hmm?"
"No."Heinhalesandleansbackonthebench."YourememberthattimeConnordrankawholetwo

litrebottleofthatforadare?"Hestartslaughing,barelyabletogetthewordsout."Ithoughthe'dactually
died.Andyoudaredhim..."

"Look,Idon'trememberdaringhim..."
"Ifithadbeenanyoneelsehewouldhavesaidno,butfuck,he'dhavewalkedonhotcoalsifyoutold

himto."Heshakeshishead,smiling.

"Blesshim.Poorthinghadtohavehisstomachpumpedandeverything."

"God, did he bitch about it." Brandon rolls his eyes, but I can see the warm smile on his lips, the

softness in his expression. I think he likes to remember the three of us growing up, the way we were
beforelifebecamehardandcruel.

"Whywereweallfriendsanyways?”Iask.“Allweeverdidwasharasseachotherandgeteachother

drunkaspiss.”

"Eh,youwerethehalf-breed,Iwasthepikey,andConnorwasfat.Whothefuckelsewasgoingto

hangoutwithus?"

"True."Ismileandleanmyheadagainsthisshoulder."Who'dhaveeverthoughtmeandyouwould

endupinLondon?"

"Ifthere'sonethingI'velearnedposs,it'sthatnomatterwhereyougointheworld,theplacesdon't

meanshit.It'sthepeople.I'mgladyoufoundme.I'mjustsorryyouhadtoloseeverythingtodoit."He
closes the plastic kebab tub and gets up, tossing it in the trash. He turns to me and holds out his hand.
"Readytogohome?"

Inodandtakehishand.
Littlethingsliketonight,theyarewhatmakeeverythingseemworthit.It'sthewayhemakesmefeel.

Thewayhelovesme,theustherealwayshasbeenswirlingsomewherebeneaththesurface,thatmakes
meknowIwouldneverlethimwalkawayfromme.Nomatterwhat.

WAKE

AND

THE

SUN

MUCH

BRIGHTER

THAN

SHOULD

THIS

TIME

MORNING

GLANCE

THE

CLOCK

sittingstraightup."Shit!"

Brandonjumps,boltingupinbed."What?What..."Heswipeshishandoverhisfacebeforeholdingit

tohischest."Fuck.Don'tdothat."

Ihopoutofbed,stumblingintothewallasItrytocatchmybalance.
"Thefuckareyoudoing?"heasks.
"I'mgoingtobelate."
"So?Noneedtogivemeafuckingcoronaryoverit."
"I'llgetintrouble."
"Trouble?Soundslikebullshit,ifyouaskme."
Groaning,IrollmyeyesasIdigthroughthepilesofcleanlaundryI'veyettoputaway.Brandonrolls

outofbedandstaggersintothelivingroomwhileIrusharoundattemptingtolookhalfwayputtogether.

WhenIcomeintothelivingroom,Brandon'sstandingatthekitchencounterstaringdownattheboxof

two-dayoldpizza."Okay,you'vegottwochoiceshere.PizzaorCocoPops."

"I'mfine,thanksthough."
He steps around the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Coffee. No whiskey." He flashes a

smilethatnearlymakesmemelt.

Ipushuponmytiptoestokisshim,andhishandsnakesaroundmyneckashesweepshistongueover

mybottomlip.Ifighttheurgetopartmylips,andIsomehowmanagetopullawayfromhim."I'mlate."

"AndI'mhorny,babe.Weallgotourissues."Hescrapeshisteethoverhisbottomlipinawaythat

justshouldn'tbeallowed.

"Well,Ihavegottogo.SaveitandI'llhandleyouwhenIgetback."
"Possum..."
HetakesasteptowardmeandIholdafingerup."Don't..."
His smile is full of mischief and dirty promises as he takes my hand and yanks me closer. His lips

skimjustbelowmyear.Hishandgrabsmyass."Justcallinsick,"hewhispers,hishotbreathticklingmy
neck."We'llhaveasexday.It'slikeasnowday,onlybetter."

Imeltintohimforasecond,nearlycaving."HaveItoldyouIhateyou..."

"Lies."HenipsatmyearandIplayfullyshovehimaway.
"Ihavetogo.I'malreadylate.I'mnotcallingin.Stoptryingtobeabadinfluence,BrandonO’Kieffe."

Isnatchupmycoatandrushtothedoor."Loveyou."

WhenIturnaround,he'sleaningagainstthekitchencounterwithMortscoopedupinhisarms.Idon't

believetherecanbeacutersightthanBrandonO'Kieffeclutchingatiny,baldkitteninhisarms."Love
you,possum,"hesmilesashepetsthecat.

Ileave,closingthedoorbehindme,andallbutjoggingtocatchthetubeintime.
BythetimeIgettotheclinic,I'mhalfanhourlate.IcringewhenIwalkthroughthedoors.Dorisis

bentover,shovingpatientchartsintothefilingcabinet.

"SorryI'mlate.Ioverslept."Ithrowmypurseunderthecounter,dropmylunchbytheminifridge,and

Ichecktheschedule."I'llgogetMr.Brighton,"Icallout.BeforeDorishasevenhadachancetorespond,
I'monmywayintothehallway.

I push open the door to the large waiting room, but the only person out there is Mr. Williams. He

smilesatmeoverhisnewspaperandIsmilebackbeforeshuttingthedoorandheadingbacktothenurse's
station,ploppingdownintheseatnexttoDoris.

"DidyoualreadytakeMr.Brightonback?”Iask."SorryagainthatIwaslate."I'mstilltryingtocatch

mybreath.

Doris has yet to say anything. When I glance up, her eyes are closed, her fingers sliding her cross

alongthesilverchainthathangsfromherneck.Hereyesslowlyopenandwhenshelooksatmemyheart
rateinstinctivelypicksup."Mr.Brightonpassedawaylastnight,"shesays.

Theairleavesmylungsinaheavyrush,mythroatconstricting.
"Theyjustcalled."Shestandsandwrapsherarmsaroundmeinacomfortingembrace.
"Whathappened?"IaskasIfightbackthetears.
Sighing, Doris holds both of my shoulders and takes a slow step back. She looks down at me as a

motherwouldherchild,empatheticallyfulloflove."Hetookhisownlife,dear."

Iclutchatmytighteningchest.
Doris'handsrubovermyarms."It'saterriblethingwhenyourownmindisyourworstenemy.He'sat

peacenow.Atpeace..."

Therestofthedayisablur.Patientscomeinandout.Thedaydragson,andIfindmyselfwondering

whyMr.Brightondidit.Whatwentthroughhishead?Howutterlydesperateitisthattosomepeople,that
is the only answer, that the only way to peace is through death. And suddenly, I'm swallowed by fear,
dragged down into this black abyss of worry and panic. Peace...that is something Brandon is always
seekingandneverfinding.

The last patient of the day is a no show and Doris lets me leave early. I sit on the tube, deep in

thought,andbythetimeIgethome,anxietyiscrawlingacrossmyskinbecausewhatif…whatif?

TheapartmentisquietwithnotraceofBrandonorMortwhenIdropmykeysonthekitchencounter.
"Hello?"Myvoiceechoesaroundtheemptyapartment.
Nothing.IwalktothebedroomdoorandpushitopentofindBrandonandthecatbothinthebed.One

ofBrandon’smusculararmsisthrownoverhisface.Theotheriscradlingthecatagainsthisside.

"Brandon?"
"Hmm?"
"Youfeelingokay,babe?"Isitontheedgeofthebedandruboverhisarm.
"Yeah."MortstrugglesbeneaththeweightofBrandon'sarmandwalksoverhisstomach,purringlike

alittleengine.

I place my hand against his forehead. He's not warm. Mort steps into my lap, rubbing his slick,

hairless self against my arm. "Want to go get Chinese? I know how you love your crispy seaweed." I
smile.

Hemoveshisarmanddragshishanddownhisface."No,I'mgood."Hiseyesareflatandlifeless,his

tonevoidofemotion.Herollsontohisside,turninghisbackonme.

TheBrandonIleftthismorningandthisBrandonaresovastlydifferent...Iwatchhimstareoffintothe

nothing,uncertainofwhattodo.MortbitesmyfingerbecauseI'mnotpettinghimsoIswipemyhandover
hisheadafewtimesbeforeplacinghimonthefloor.IdotheonlythingIknowtodo—liedownnextto
Brandonandwrapmyarmsaroundhisbroadframeandjustholdhim."Iloveyou,"Iwhisper.

Heremainssilent,butreachesforme,pullingmyarmaroundhiswaistuntilmypalmrestsagainsthis

chest.

Ifeelthesteadybeatofhisheartundermyhand,thesadnessradiatingfromhim,andittearsmeintwo

becausethereisnothingIcandototakethisaway.

Asmuchaswepretendwearen'talone,wearenevermorealonethanwhenwearetrappedinour

ownmind.AndBrandon—theplacehe'strapped,it'saplaceIcouldneverbegintounderstand.Icanfeel
thesheersorrowpouringoffhim,drowninghim.He'snotangry,he'sjust...sadandIdon'tknowwhichone
ishardertowitness.So,Ijustholdhimandheclingstomyarm,notallowingmetoletgo.

WelieinsilenceuntilInoticehischestrisinginunevenswells,hisbreathsshallowfromsleep.He

violentlyrollsover,throwinghisarmacrossthelengthofthebed.Thecoversshiftoffme.Hetosses,his
headthrashingfromsidetoside.Iwatchhiseyebrowsfurrow,hisfacetwistsinagrimaceandIwantto
wakehim,butI'mafraidto.

"Brandon,"Iwhisper.
Hisarmfliesouttothesideandthelamp,theglassofwaterandthealarmclockallgocrashingtothe

floor. Mort hisses, his bell tinkling as he runs from the room. I am certain I hear Brandon mumble
Connor'snameinhissleep,andmybloodrunscold,chillbumpsscatteringacrossmyskin.

"Brandon,"Igentlyprodhimwithonefingerandhesitsboltuprightinthebed,chestheavingashe

pullsinadeepbreath.Hisheadwhipstothesideandwhenhiseyesfixonme,herelaxesslightly.

"DidIhurtyou?"
"No."Itimidlyrubmyhandoverhischest."Areyouokay?"
Henodsandfallsbackagainstthemattress,hischeststillheavingandhisskinclammywithsweat.

"Yeah.I'mfine."

"Tellmewhatyoudreamed."
Inhaling,heturnstofaceme."Ican't."
"Ithelpstotalk."Ikisshischeek.
Hiseyessqueezeshutandheswallows."It'snotthekindofshityoutalkabout."
"Iknow,but...youkeepsomethinglikethatbottledupinside,it'lleatawayatyou."
Hewrapsanarmaroundmywaistandpullsmedownagainsthischest,placingakissonmyforehead.

"Gotosleep,poss."

"Tellmewhathappened,Brandon.Please."
"You don't want to know the details of how he died. It will run through your mind on repeat. Trust

me."

"AllIimagineiswhatyouseeinthemovies,andIknowthat'snotright."Ilaymyheadonhischest.

HisheartisbangingagainsthisribsIikeacagedanimaldesperatetogetout."Iamstrongerthanyouthink.
I've accepted long ago that he's gone. That it was brutal." I pause, my eyes veering up to him for the
briefest of moments. I feel like I am invading some personal space of his, but I can't help it. "Did he
suffer?"

"No…it was an IED. I don't even remember the bomb going off. I just remember waking up. The

foxhoundwasonitsside.Everyoneelsewasdead.Itriedtosavehim,Itried,buthewasalreadygone."
Hisvoiceisadistanthum,disconnectedasthoughhewererecallingastoryhereadinthepaper."The
truckwasleakingdiesel,and,foramoment,IthoughtthatifIjuststayedthere,justkeptpressingonhis

chest,thewholethingwouldblow,andIwouldn'thavetocrawloutofthatfuckingtruckandleavemy
bestfriendbehind."

MychestgoestightandforasecondIfeellikeI'msuffocatingwithhim.TherearesomanythingsI

selfishlywanttoforceoutofhim,butIdarenot.Becauseattherootofitall...allIwantisforthispain,
thismemory,theunrightfulguilthecarriesdayinanddayouttovanish,becauseforallConnormeantto
me, I know he meant so much more to Brandon. Connor was my love, but to Brandon, Connor was his
salvation."Youdidtherightthing,”Iwhisper.“Youknowthat."

"Why me? There were five of us in that truck. He was the best person I knew, and he died while I

fuckingsurvived.Howisthatright?"Heinhalesaraggedbreath."It'snotfuckingright."

"Somepeople,Brandon..."Ifightthetears.IfightthehurtbecauseIwanttocollapseandcrumble,I

want to wallow in this hurt with him, but I can't allow myself. "Some people are too bright for this
world."

Hesqueezesmetighter."Yeah.Healwayswasthegoldenboy."

ChapterThirtyThree

POPPY

“Riot”–SaraHaze

COFFEE

POT

BEEPS

AND

GRAB

MUG

FILLING

CUP

THE

BRIM

HARDLY

SLEPT

LAST

NIGHT

RANDON

usuallyholdsmeinhissleep,butlastnighthedidn't.It'sasmallthing,butreally,it’snot.

Heisatickingtimebomb.HisownworstenemyandIknowit.Hegoeswaydown,andwhenhegets

to the place he was last night I have no idea what to do, but it scares me. Life is a series of ups and
downs,peaksandvalleys—butwhenyourvalleyissodamndark,howlongcanapersonstandthat?I'm
afraid,onedayhe'llgetsolowhe'llneverbeabletocomeupagain,likeMr.Brighton…

The door to the bedroom creaks when he opens it. Dark circles loom below his eyes. He looks

exhaustedeventhoughIknowhesleptmostofthedayyesterday.

"Goodmorning,"Isay,smilingasIgotofetchhimacupfromthecupboard.
"Hey,"hemumbles,steppinginfrontofmeandreachingoverthetopofmeforamug.Hetakesmy

cheekinhishandandpressesakissagainstmyhairbeforemovingtothecoffeemachine.

"Sleepgood?"
"Yeah.You?"Hepushesthebuttononthemachineanditspitsoutthick,blackliquid.
"Yeah..." I watch him for a moment. He pours creamer into his cup, followed by the whiskey, of

course,thenhestumblesovertothecouchandplopsdown.Mortcomesrunningup,clawinghiswayup
thesideofthesofaandjumpingintoBrandon'slap.HenudgesBrandon’shandwithhisbaldhead.Partof
medoesn'twanttomentionlastnight,butIcan'tignoreit.

"Brandon,"Isitontheedgeofthesofawonderingwhyit'ssohardtotalktohimaboutthis.Icantalk

tohimaboutanything,buthere,Ifindmyselfanxiousandonedge,worriedI'llpisshimoff."Ineedtotalk
toyou."

Shooing Mort away, he turns to face me, his expression blank as he cradles the mug in both hands.

"Okay."

"I just..." Taking a breath, I hesitate. "I worry about you." His eyes narrow. He lifts the mug and

presseshislipsagainsttherim.

Thatannoyedhimwhichmeanstherestofthisisgoingtogetunderhisskin."Youjust...Iwantyouto

gethelp,Brandon.Youneedhelp."

Herubsahandoverhisfaceandsetshiscoffeedown.Hetakesmymugfrommyhand,placesiton

thetable,andthengrabsmearoundthewaist,draggingmeintohislap.Hisroughfingersstrokeovermy
facebeforehetucksaloosestrandofhairbehindmyear."Babe,you'reeverythingIneed."

"Brandon,stop."Imovehishandawayfrommycheekandheglaresatme."I'mserious."
Hisfingerswraparoundthetopsofmyarms,holdingmeinplace."You'retheonlyonewhocanhelp

me,poss.Idon'tknowwhatyoufuckingwantfromme."

Istareathim,sadnessandangercoursingthroughmebecausehejustdoesn'tseehowbadthisis.I

can'tmakethingsbetterforhim.Heneedstoletsomeofthatguiltgo.Hehastofindwaystocopewith
everythinghe'sseenanddone,andIcan'thelphimwiththatbecauseI'mjustaslostasheissometimes.
Hissadness,attimes,drownsme."Brandon,don'tyouseeIcan'tfixyou."

Hegoesverystill,hiseyessnappingtomyfaceandnarrowingashisjawclencheshard."Fixme?"

Hecarefullyshiftsmeoffhislapandpushestohisfeetbeforestalkingaway.

AllIcandoissitinsilenceandwatchhim,mypulseclanginginmyears,mymindswirlingwithhow

tomakethatsoundanyotherwaythanitcameout.

Whenheeventuallyturnstofaceme,hisbodyisbristlingwithtension."IsthatwhatIamtoyou?"he

says,hisvoiceshakingwithagitation."Somethingbroken?Defective?"

"I...Ididn'tmeanitlikethat.”Myheartanxiouslypoundsagainstmyribs.“Ijustmeant—"
"Idon'tneedyoutofixshit."Heheadsforthebedroom.
"Ididn'tmeanitlikethat,"Iwhisper.Ididn't,andIknowhowawfulthatsounded.He'snotabroken

toythatcanbepiecedbacktogether,andthatisexactlyhowthatsounded."Youdon'tneedtobefixed,you
needhelp.WeneedhelpbecauseIcan't..."IshakemyheadasIfollowhimintotheroom."Ican'tlose
you,Brandon.Ican't."

"Thereisnohelpingthis!"heroars,andIflinch."Thereisnofuckingcure.Nofix.Thisissurvival,

onedayatatime.Youknewwhatyouweregetting,Poppy."Hespreadshisarmswide,amockinglaugh
slippingfromhislips."Isiteverythingyoufuckinghopeditwouldbe?"

Closingmyeyes,Itakeabreathastheheatwashesovermycheeks."Nothinginmylifehaseverbeen

everythingIhopeditwouldbe,”Isay.“Butthewayyouwereyesterday..."Istopmymindfromtumbling
downthedarkholeofwhatifs."Ijustdon'tliketoseeyouthatdown."

"ItwasConnor'sfuckingbirthdayyesterday!"heshouts.
There'sasharppaininmychestandIfindmyselfclutchingatitasmymindcomestoanabrupthalt.

WhataterriblepersonamI?Iforgothim.I.Forgot.Him.SoconsumedwithrunninglateandBrandonand
Mr.Brighton...soworriedwithmylifeasitisnowthatIforgotthepersonIshouldalwaysgrievefor.And
thisiswheremystrengthgivesout.

Iburymyfaceinmyhandsandsinktothefloor.Tearswellinmyeyesand,thistime,Idon'teventry

tostopthem."I'msorry,"Iwhisper.NottoBrandon,buttoConnorbecauseIforgothimwhenIpromisedI
neverwould.

Brandon’sroughhandssweepovermyarmsanduptomycheeks,andIliftmytear-filledgazetofind

Brandoncrouchinginfrontofme.Heswipeshisthumbsbelowmyeyes,dryingmytears.

"Iforgot,"Iwhisper,afreshwaveofpaingrippingmyheart.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmylegs,pulling

themtomychestasasobtearsfrommythroat."Iam...ahorribleperson."

Brandonsitsbesidemeandpullsmebetweenhisknees.Icryagainsthischestandheholdsme,his

chinrestingonmyheadashecocoonsmeinhiswarmth."Shh,"hewhispers."Youcouldn'tbeahorrible
personifyoutried."

And I want to scream at him that I am. I want to throw things and punch things, I want to destroy

somethinguntilit'sasuglyandbatteredasIfeel—but,instead,Iclingtohim.

"Iloveyou,"hemumblesagainstmyhair.AndIfalltopiecesinhisarmsandheistheonlythingthat

keepsmefromcompletelybreaking.

ChapterThirtyFour

BRANDON

“BloodHands”–RoyalBlood

STEP

INTO

THE

RING

AND

CRACK

NECK

FROM

SIDE

OSH

ARMON

GRINS

BEFORE

BLOWS

KISS

"I'mgonnabreakthatprettylittlefaceofyours,"hesays.Hiseyesarewide,hispupilsnothingmore

thanpinpricks.Hishandstwitchinagitationashebouncesonhisfeet.Brilliant.ItellLarrytostepitup
andhebringsmesomegearjackedthug.

Isaynothing,simplystand.Still.Silent.Iallowtheragetoswirlandbuildlikeathickclouduntilit

swampsme,wrappingmeinitsthicktendrils.ThesoundofLarry'svoicebecomesadistanthumasifI'm
under water, removed from the situation rather than at the centre of it. And then, the bell dings and
everything snaps back into place in an instant: the roar of the crowd, the smell of sweat, beer, and
cigarettes,andtherage.Theragepunchesagainstmyskinlikearabidanimalwaitingtogetout.

Harmoncomesatmelikeatrain,fistsswinging.Heinstantlytriestostepinsidemeandblockmyleg

withhis.It'sadirtymove,andinanynormalfight,anillegalone.Iswervetoavoidhislegsandcatchthe
endofhisswing,onlyaglancingblow,butenoughtosplitmylip.Ipauseandswipemyfingertipsover
mythrobbinglip.MyhandcomesawaybloodyandIsmile.Hecomesatmeagain.Whateverhe'sonmust
besomegoodshitbecausehe'slightningfast.Inailhimtwiceintheface,butitdoesn’tfazehim.Another
swing.Hisfistbarelybrushespastmyside,butIwinceatthestingthatbreaksoutovermyskin.WhenI
glancedown,Iseethreebrightredlinesstretchingacrossmyribs.Iwatchthebloodwellupandspill
downmyside.

Thecrowderupts,somebooing,somecheering.Larryshoveshiswayintothering,closelyfollowed

byKyan.

"Time!"heshouts."Disqualifiedforbreachofconduct."IlookatHarmon.Hethrowshisheadback

andlaughsasheliftshishand.Thelightglintsfromtherazorbladesthemotherfuckerhasinhiswraps,
andLarryandKyanstepinfrontofhim.

"Protectingyourboy?"Harmonsays."Iwouldhavedestroyedhim."
Isnarlandstepforward,butFinnisinfrontofmethesecondIdo.Harmongrins,spitsonthefloor,

andstepsoutofthering.

"Webothknowyouwouldhavehadthefuckingjunkie,"Finnsays.
He never swears, and I can practically feel the tension hammering off him. His anger may be

controlled,butallitdoesisfeedmyown.Ishoveawayfromhimandpaceacrosstheringafewtimes,
clenchingandreleasingmyfists.Myribssting.Icanfeelthebloodtricklingdownmyside,mixingwith
thesweat.

Larrymovesinfrontofme,placinghishandonmysideasheinspectsthedamage."Gogetcleaned

up,"hesays,hiseyesstudyingmyfaceclosely."Finn,gowithhim.Gethimsomefirstaid,anddonotlet
himout."

BythetimeI'mbackinthestoreroom,I'mfeelingrealfuckingmurderous.Myskinphysicallyitches,

angercrawlingovermelikeants.Finnsitsonthemetalbenchinthemiddleoftheroom,asmallfirstaid
kitinhislap.Althoughseeminglycalm,hiskneejerksrepeatedlyinmyperipheral.Hisagitationmakes
menervous.Toomuchtimeinabattlezonewillgetyoulikethat.Whenyoulive,work,andkillbeside
other guys, you feed off their emotions. If one of them suddenly becomes tense, you best assume you're
abouttogetabulletinyourarse.Inaway,youbecomelikeapackofanimals,eachlookingtotheother
forbehavioralcues.Andhisangerisonlysettinglighttomyown,stokingitandstirringtheflameshigher.

"Finn,youneedtogo,"Isaythroughclenchedteeth.
"Larrytoldme..."
"Look,you'repissedandit'snotfuckinghelpingme."Iclenchmyfistsandsqueezemyeyesclosed.I

hatefeelingthisoutofcontrol,aslavetothisaggression.

Hehesitatesforasecondbeforehenods,getsup,andleavestheroom.Thesecondhedoes,Islammy

fistintooneofthemetallockers.TheskinatmyribspullswiththemovementandIplacemyhandoverit.
Bloodslicksmypalm."Fuck!"Iroar.

Thedoorswingsopen,andIjumpatthesuddenbangofitslammingagainstthewall.
"IsweartoGod,"Poppysays.Herfaceisred,butitgoesallsoftthesecondhergazeskimsmyside.

"Thatguy'sanasshole."Inhaling,shetakesthefirstaidkitfromthebenchandbeginsrummagingthrough
it.

"I'mfine."
"You're bleeding." She crouches in front of me, swatting my arm away from my side. "You need a

Tetanus shot." Her fingers gently brush over my skin as she inspects the cuts. A line sinks between her
eyebrows and her lips press into an angry little line. It's so cute that the anger in me ebbs slightly. She
placesabandageoverthecutsandshakesherhead."Well,IguesstheygaveyouaTetanusshotwhenyou
enlisted…Youshouldhaveknockedhisteethdownhisthroat."

Icockabrow."IwouldhavedoneifLarrywasn'tsuchapussy-bitchaboutit."
"Imean,whatdidhehopetoaccomplishbyswipingyouwitharazor?"
Isaynothingandconcentrateonaspotonthewallwhileshetapesthebandageinplace.Icounttoa

hundredinmyheadandfocusonbreathing.Inandout.IallowthepleasantscentofPoppy'sperfumeto
drownoutthesmellofbloodandsweatandviolence.

Her fingers trail over my cheek and I blink, staring down at her. The little frown line is still there,

marringherperfectfeatures."Stopworrying,"Itellher.

"Oh, I'm sorry.” She scowls at me as she stands. “I didn't realize that you getting shanked by some

filthyasshole—inanunderground,illegalfightpit,mightIadd—wassomethingIshouldn't be worried
about."Shegroans."YoujustgotshankedBrandon.Likeinprison."

Irollmyeyes."Babe,it'sascratch.Ididnotgetfuckingshanked."Ican'thelpbutsmileatthat.
"Don'ttrytodownplaythis,Brandon."Sheshootsmeanastyglare.
Iliftmyhandandsweepthehairfromherface,tuckingitbehindherear.Hereyesflutterclosedand

sheswallowsheavily.

"Ihatethis,"shewhispers.
Ipressmylipsagainstherforehead."Let'sgo."
She'sstillglaringatme,butsheletsoutasigh."Youdrivemecrazy."
Shrugging,Ipullawayfromherandthrowonmyshirtandhoodie.
Assoonaswestepoutsidethestoreroom,IspotFinnlingeringagainstthebackwall.Hopeiswith

him,nodoubtchewingthepoorguy'searoffaboutsomepointlessbullshit.Thesecondhespotsme,Finn
crossestheroom,fallinginbesideme.ThecrowdinThePitisstillthick,andifanything,thebloodhas

onlyriledthemevenmoreforKyan'sfight.IthrowmyarmaroundPoppy'sshoulder,pullinghertightinto
mysideaswepushthroughthesweatydrunksandmakeourwaytothedoorthatleadstothebackalley.

Thebasementdoorbangsshutbehinduswitharattle,andthecoldairwrapsaroundme,makingme

shiver.Thedarkalleysmellsofrottingfoodandpiss.It'sprettymuchthelocaltoiletforeverypatronof
ThePit.

"Bingo!"Hopeshouts."Comeon,lads.Let'sgoplaysomeBingo."
Isnort.Iswearthatgirliscompletelyfuckingoblivioustoanythingthatgoeson,unlessitinvolvesa

potentialdick.

Poppyglancesnervouslyatme."Ireallyjustwanttogohome."
"Suityourself,”Hopesays.“Finn,youwanttogowithme?It'sagrandtime.Youwinneckmassagers

and...hello?"

Poppysqueezesmyarm.IlookdownatherbeforefollowinghergazetoFinn.He'sstaringatapoint

inthealley,hisposturetense.HewrapshisfingersaroundHope'sarmandpullsherbehindhim.Thatone
smallmotionisenoughtoseteveryinstinctIhaveonedge.

IstepinfrontofPoppy,movingtostandbesidehimjustasfourguysappearfromthedarkness,Josh

Harmonstandinginthemiddle.Theystepintothedimstreetlight.Hisfriendslooktobethesamekindof
low life thug as he is, and aggression is pouring off them. They take another step into the alley, and I
noticeHarmon’slipissplit,andalthoughhisrighteyeisswellingshut,thatrisingrageinhiseyes,that
needtohurtsomeoneisevident.Icrackmynecktotheside,tighteningmyfists.

"Poppy, go back inside," I say, through clenched teeth, fighting to keep control of myself until she

leaves.

"No,staysweetheart,"Harmonleers,attemptingtopeeraroundme.
"Don'tfuckingtalktoher."I'mshakingasIattempttoholdbackthewallofpainI'mreadytoinflicton

him.IcanfeelFinnatmyside,thetensionbristlingfromhim.

Harmonlaughs,andhisfriendsjoininlikeapackofwell-traineddogs."I'mgoingtobeatyourarsein

frontofyourlittlewhoregirlfriend."

That'sit.
Ifallonhimlikeamotherfuckingbuilding.Myfistslamsintothesideofhisfacethreetimesbefore

one of his friends jabs me in the kidney. Something in me delights at the challenge of taking on every-
fucking-oneofthem.Mylittledemonrisestotheoccasion,baskingintherawviolence.Ibeattheshitout
ofthepairofthem,nailingmyknucklesagainstfleshandboneoverandoveruntilbloodcoatsmyhands.
I'mconsumed,blindedbythesolepurposeofdestroyingtheguyinfrontofme.I'mvaguelyawareofthe
othertwooutcoldonthefloor—courtesyofFinn.Nowit'sjustmeandHarmon.Myfistandhisface.

"Brandon,"Poppyshouts."Stopit!Brandon."Ihearherbutnothingregisters."Finn,makehimstop.

He'sgoingtokillhim!"

"Nothing he doesn't deserve," Finn's voice is laced with the same kind of darkness that's roaring

throughmyhead.

I hit Harmon until my arm is tiring and his face is completely red and swollen. "Brandon, please,"

Poppy'svoicehitchesonasobandIwishIcouldgotoher,butIjustcan'tpullmyselfoutofthis.The
forceistoostrong.

Somethingbrushesovermyarm,handsgrabbingatme,andIswing.Atthelastsecond,Irealisethat

it's Poppy. I pull back the force of my punch, but it's too late. My fist collides with her jaw and she
crashesagainst the concrete.Time stands still.My heart seems tophysically freeze inmy chest and my
bloodrunscold.Theangerdisappearsinstantlyandallthat'sleftisthehorrorofwhatI'vejustdone.

She'ssprawledoutonthefilthygroundwithherhandtohermouth,bloodtricklingfromherlip.Finn

andHoperushovertohelphertoherfeet.

"Poppy..."

Hopechargesme.Herhandmeetsmycheekwitharesoundingclap."You,"shepointsafingerinmy

face."Areafuckingheadcase.Staythefuckawayfromher."

Poppy'seyesarefocusedontheground,andasteadystreamoftearstrackdownhercheeks.
"Poppy,I'msosorry,"Iwhisper.IfeellikeallIeverdoisapologisetoher.Itakeastepforward.
"Don'tyoudare."Hopestandslikeaguarddog,herexpressionfierce.UsuallyI'darguewithher,but

I'mtooashamedofmyselfrightnow.

Idragbothhandsthroughmyhairandtiltmyheadback."Pleaselookafterher."
Shenodsandturnsonherheelwithaflickofherredhair.IwatchassheleadsPoppyawayandoutof

sight.Finnlingers,tentativelycastingglancesatme.Ilookbackatthefourunconsciousbodieslittering
the alleyway. This is what I do. This is what I'm capable of, and I've never given a fuck...until Poppy
steppedintothemiddleofit.

"Comeon."HejerkshisheadtothesideandIfollowhim.Mymindandbodyhavegonecompletely

numband,bythetimeIgettohisplace,Ican'tevenremembergettinghere.

His apartment is small but well decorated and meticulously clean. I used to be like that before

everythinghappened,andIguessIgottoapointwhereIjustgaveupanddecidedthatnothingwasworth
doinganymore.Attimes,Icouldbarelywashmyselfletalonecleananapartment.

"Here."Finncomesfromthekitchenandhandsmeanicepack,pointingatmyhand.Iglancedownat

myrippedandbloodyknuckles,andallIseeisthemcomingintocontactwithPoppy'sbeautifulface.

"Ineedtogotoher."Istarttogetup,butheplacesahandonmyshoulder.
"JustletHopedealwithherfornow."
Hesetsabeeronthecoffeetableandtakesaseatnexttome,sippingonhisown.Idragashaking

handthroughmyhair."TheywerejustthereandshewasthereandIlostmyshit.Iwouldneverhurther,"I
sayhoarsely.ButIdid.Ididhurther.

"Iknow.Itwasanaccident."
Idon'tknowhowlongFinnsitstherewatchingme.Mymindracesinawhirlwindofguiltandhorror

asIstarenumblyatthewall.Eventuallyhegetsupandleavestheroom.Iheartheshowerstart,andIpick
upmyphone,staringattheblankscreen.

IpullupPoppy'sname,pressthecallbutton,andwhenitgoesstraighttovoicemail,Itexther:

Possum,Iamsosorry.Pleaseforgiveme.Iloveyou.

Iwaitandwait,butgetnoresponse.Myheartispoundinginmychestasaveryrealfeareatsawayatme.
She's going to leave me. She's going to leave and then what? She's everything and without her it's all
completelypointless.She'stheonepersonIcannotbeartohurtthough.Iwarwithmyselfforaminuteand
thenIrealize,Ican’tblameherifshedoesleave.Actually,sheshouldleaveme.Sheshouldhateme.I'm
a disaster waiting to happen, a ticking bomb, and she's strapped right in with me just waiting for the
inevitablebang.ItellmyselfIwouldneverhurther,butIjustprovedmyselfwrong.Ican'ttrustmyself.I
don'tevenknowwhothefuckIamanymore.Sheismypeace,butIjustsawthatevenshecan'tquietthis
fuckingdemoninsideme.

Idecidetodotheselflessthingforonceinmyshittylife.Idon'twantherforgiveness.Ijustwanther

tobehappyandlovedandsafe.Mylovewillonlyhurther,andthat'snotwhatloveshouldbe.So,I'm
lettinghergo.

Itypeoutanothertext:

Idon'tdeserveyourforgiveness.Ican'tlivewithmyselfknowingI'vehurtyou.JustknowthatI
loveyou,always.

AndIpresssend.

ChapterThirtyFive

POPPY

“Mercy”–ShawnMendes

CAN

STILL

FEEL

THE

BLOOD

PULSING

THROUGH

THROBBING

CHEEK

OPE

HANDS

ANOTHER

ICE

PACK

SHE

takesawaytheonethat'sbeenonmyfaceforthepastthirtyminutes.

"ThisiswhatIwastalkingabout,"shesays,tossingtheusedpackintothesink."It'smessedup.He's

messedup,Poppy."

Istareather,stillnumb."Iknowitis.Idon'tneedyoutellingmeitis."
Shecloseshereyesandsighs.
"ThatwasnotBrandon,"Isaysoquietly,Icanbarelyhearmyself.
"No,Poppy,itwas Brandon." She shakes her head, pushes away from the counter, and comes to sit

nexttomeonthesofa."He's...he's..."

"Hedidn'tknowwhathewasdoing."Iexhale."Itwasareaction.Areaction.Ishouldn'thavetriedto

stophim.Ishouldhavejust...Ididn'twanthimtogotojail.Hecan'tgotojail,he'sadeserter,he'd..."My
mindjumbleswithscenariosandexcuses,graspingtounderstandwhatjusthappened.AndIcan'thelpbut
wonder, am I justifying this too much? I love him, but am I trying to make something work that has no
businessworking?

"Didhemeantohityou?No,butdidhe?Yes."Sheplacesherhandonmyknee."Heneedshelpand

youknowit.Hell,youworkwiththeseguysdayinanddayout,youknowwhatwarcandotosomeone."

Whatwarcandotosomeone.Warisdeathonsomanylevels.Poisonthatseepsthroughyourveins,

never letting you go. It took Connor's life and it took Brandon's. He is basically a zombie staggering
around, always haunted by the memories, the cruelty and gore. War sentenced him to hell and so it
sentencedmerightalongwithhim.Istandfromthecouch,glancingatHope."Ijustwanttogotosleep.I
don'twanttotalkaboutthis."

"Poppy,Iknowyouwanttohelphim,butatwhatcosttoyourself?Youcan'tjust—"
"I can do whatever I want. It's my life." I walk out of the living room and close the bedroom door,

dragging in an uneasy breath as I make my way to the bed. I pass by the dresser and make a conscious
efforttoavoidmyreflection.I'minlovewithamanI'veknownmyentirelife,butthere'sthisdarknessto
himthatnolightwilleverfinditswayinto.Apartofhimthatwascreatedinanattempttosurvive,but
now,Iworrythereisnothingthatwillhelphimsurvivehimself.

WAKE

THE

MORNING

FACE

SORE

GAIN

, I

PASS

THE

MIRROR

WITHOUT

MUCH

GLANCE

whatdoIdotoday?DoIgohomeandpretendeverythingisokay?DoIleavehim?

Thethingis,Brandonwouldneverintentionallyhurtme.AndmaybeIsoundpathetic,butwhatkindof

personwouldleavethepersontheylovewhentheyareattheirdarkest?

ThelivingroomisemptywhenIstepintoit.Onthetable,beneathmyphone,isanote

Gonetogetcoffee.xx-Hope.

Iplopdownonthecouchandgrabmyphone.Onemissedcallandtwotexts,bothfromBrandon.

Idon'tdeserveyourforgiveness.Ican'tlivewithmyselfknowingI'vehurtyou.JustknowthatI
loveyou,always.

Mychesttightens,eachbeatofmyheartisharderthanthelast.AndallIcanseeisMr.Brighton'sface.I
nearly drop the phone trying to press the call button. It rings and rings with no answer. Adrenaline is
buzzingthroughme,myheartpoundingsohardIcanliterallyseeit.Igrabmypurseandruntothedoor,
dialingFinn'snumberaspanicsettlesin.

"Yep?"
"IneedtotalktoBrandon."
"He'snothere."
"What?"
"Heleftlatelastnight."
Ifeelaleadweightsinkinthepitofmystomach."Whydidyoulethimleave?"Ishoutintothephone.
"Because...”Finninhales,“hewantedtogohome..."
IhangthephoneupanddropitinsidemypocketasIturnthestreetcorner,headingdownthestairs

into the Underground. I shove my way through the crowd standing around the platform just as a train
comestoascreechinghalt.Peoplearen'tevenoffthesubwaycarbeforeI'mfightingmywayinside.The
entirewaytomystop,mymindplaysouthorriblescenarios.IkeeptellingmyselfI'moverreacting,that
Brandon would never do something like that—kill himself—but while Brandon wouldn't, that darkness
would.

The train stops and I rush off, tripping on my way up the stairs and barely catching myself with my

hands.Someonehelpsmeup."Thankyou,"IshoutovermyshoulderasItakeoffinasprinttowardour
flat.

BythetimeIreachthefrontdoor,I'moutofbreathandcoveredinsweat,mycheeksandlungsonfire

fromthecoldair.Iputthekeyinsidethelockandtakeabreath,prayingthathe'sokay...

Thelockclicks,thedoorswingsopen,andIfindtheapartmentquiet.Iwanttocallouttohim,butpart

ofmeisterrifiedofthesilencethatmightgreetme.AsIwalkthrougheachroom,asenseofdesperation
claws at me, squeezing until tears prick my eyes and stream down my cheeks. The fear is so all-
consuming.IwanttoturnaroundandwalkoutsoIdon'thavetofaceit.

I throw the bedroom door open, my heart hammering against my ribs as my eyes land on Brandon

standingbesidethebed.Hisgazesnapstomineandthereliefalmostknocksthebreathoutofme.

"Brandon,"Iwhisper.
Deepshadowslingerbelowhiseyes.Hisjawtightenswhenhisgazedropstomycheek.Icanfeel

howswollenitisandIknowitmustbeblossominginshadesofpurple.Slamminghiseyesshut,hedrops
hisheadforward.Helookssotortured."Iamsofuckingsorry,"hesays,thewordschoked.

Inoticethegymbagonthebed,pilesofhisfoldedclothesaroundit."Whereareyougoing?"Iask,

quietly.

"Away."

"Awaywhere?"
He finally lifts his gaze to mine, and there's a distance in his eyes that I do not like. "We're done,

Poppy.Theflatispaidupforthenextsixmonthsandallthebillsarecovered..."

"What..."Everybitofairleavesmylungs."You'releavingme?"
Ignoringmyquestion,hecontinuestoshoveclothesintothebag.Witheverypassingsecond,theworry

and fear and confusion is swallowed by anger and resentment. My fists clench, my jaw tightens, my
cheeksareonfire.

"Fuckyou,"Isay,grabbingapileofhisclothesandthrowingthemacrosstheroom."Youdon'tgetto

giveupthateasy!"Igrabanotherstackofshirtsandtossit,thenthebag.Andallthewhilehejuststands
there."Didyouhearme,Brandon?Youdon'tgettogiveupthateasy!"AndthenextthingIknow,Itake
bothmyhandsandangrilyshovethemagainsthischest,buthedoesn'tbudge.

He watches me for a few seconds before he closes the space between us, pulling me against him. I

fight his grip, but his thick arms pin me in place. I feel so small and fragile against his solid body, so
unbearablybrokeninhisarms.

"Ihateyou,"Isayagainsthischestastearsfinallybreakthroughtheanger.
"Youshould,"hemumblesagainstmyhair.
Myfingersfisthisshirt.Thethoughtoflettinggoofhimterrifiesme.Thereissomuchthat'swrong

betweenus,anoceanoflossandheartbreak,angerandsorrow,butIneedhim.I’veneededhimsinceI
wastenyearsold."Please."Idon'tknowwhatelsetosay.

His hands gently cup my face, tilting my head back until our eyes meet. A small frown line sinks

betweenhisbrowsashiseyesfranticallysearchmine."Iloveyou,Poppy,"hesays.

"WhatdidIdo?"
Hiseyesclose.Hisexpressionpained."Nothing,possum.You'refuckingperfect.ButIhurtyou,and

soonerorlaterI'lldoitagain.Sometimesloveisaboutsacrifice."

"Sosacrificemyheart,then?"
"ItoldyouoncethatIwoulddestroyyou."Histhumbbrushesoverthebruiseonmyface."I'llgive

everythingIhavenotto."

Hestepsaway,zipsthebagandpicksitup,placingalingeringkissonmyforeheadbeforehewalks

outoftheroomwithoutabackwardglance.

He thinks he's just going to walk out. Give up? My entire body tenses, my pulse clanging in my

templeswitheachstephetakes."YouarethemostselfishpersonIhaveevermet,youknowit?"Ifollow
him out into the living room. "You quit. Everything. You quit the army, and Connor, and now me.
Congratulations, Brandon. Just keep running from everything that means anything to you." He stops
midstride,butdoesn'tturnaround."And,foryourinformation,youdestroyedmeyearsago,Brandon."

Hefinallywhirlsaroundtofaceme,hisfistsclenchedandhiseyestight."Howcanyoufuckingwant

this,Poppy?"heshouts.

"Idon'twantthis,"Isay,shakingmyhead."Ijustwantyou."
"Lastnight....thatiswhatIam.Atickingfuckingtimebomb,andbabe,youcanhatemeallyoulike,I

don'tcare."

Heturnsbacktothedoor.Justbeforeheopensit,Ifeeleverythinginsideofmecrumble.Thisisthe

middleofthestormandnomatterwhatIdoorsay,everythingisabouttobesweptupwithinthesewinds.

"Love isn't easy," I find my voice shaking. "You don't just walk away from something like this." I

swallow.Hishand'sstillonthedoor."Everythinginlifeisarisk,youjusthavetodecidewhichrisksare
worthtaking,andtome,youareariskworthtakingbecausewithoutyou,withoutwhatwehave,Iwill
merely be existing. And I want to live, Brandon." His chin drops to his chest and he rests his forehead
againstthebackofthedoor."Butclearly,”Isay,“Iamnotworththerisktoyoubecauseyourefusetoget
thehelpthatyouneed."Igritmyteeth."Andifthat'sthecase,goaheadandfuckingleave,butdon'tyou

daresayyouaredoingthisforme.You'redoingitforyourself."

His palm slams over the door and he spins around, dropping his bag before he storms toward me.

"This can't be fixed! It will always be there. I'm trapped in my own fucking head, day in day out, and
whenIclosemyeyes,doyouknowwhatIsee?"Hisfacemorphsintosomethinghardandvicious.His
voicerisessteadily."IseeConnor'sdeadeyesstaringatme.Itrysofuckinghardtobringhimback.And
every.Fucking.Night.Hedies.Tellme,cantheydeletethatmemory?Pullitoutofmyhead?"

AndwhatdoIsaytothat?Noamountoflovinghimwillevererasethatfromhismind,andtheamount

of sadness that threatens to swallow me from that fact is immeasurable. "No," I say, "but I just want
someonetohelpyouseethere'ssomuchmoretolifethanthatpieceofhellyouconstantlylivein."

Hesqueezeshiseyesshut."Thereismore,Poppy.It'syou.AndIwantmoreforyou…"hegestures

betweenus,"thanthis."

"Brandon..."
"Ineedsometime."
Andwiththat,heopensthedoorandleaves.
Heleavesme...

ChapterThirtySix

BRANDON

“BadHabit”–TheKooks

KNOCK

INN

DOOR

AND

HEAR

THE

SHUFFLE

FOOTSTEPS

THE

OTHER

SIDE

THE

DOOR

BEFORE

OPENS

it. He's wearing a black tracksuit with the hood pulled over his head, shadowing some of his face. His
eyeslockwithmineforabeatandthen,wordlessly,heturnsaway,leavingthedooropen.Ifollowhim
downashorthallwayandintotheapartment.

"What'sup?"heasks,pickingupthevapepenfromthecoffeetableandliftingittohislips,hiseyes

narrowingasheinhales.

Itakeaseatontheoppositecorner,facinghimasIswipeanagitatedhandthroughmyhair."Standard

shit."

He nods. The scent of cherry tobacco wafts around the room when he releases a steady stream of

smoke.Heleansforwardandbraceshiselbowsonhispartedknees,themovementcausinghishoodto
fallforwardandslightlycoverhisface"Poppy?"heasks.

"Ithinkwebrokeup."
"Youthink?"
"Itriedto.Shecan'tfuckingseehowdangerousthisis,evenafterlastnight."
Heexhalesalongbreathandleansback."Shelovesyou."
Inod.
Thetruthis,IthoughtPoppywouldhateme,thatshewouldatleastagreewithmeonsomelevel,but

shedoesn't.Ihitherforfuck'ssake,andshejustbeggedmetostay.Whatiswrongwithus?Areweso
toxicforeachother?Isshesodesperatelyclingingtothisthatshecan'tseehowfuckedupitallis?

Andthensheaskedmetogethelp,andfuck,I'veneverfeltsoshitty.Iknowitwon'thelp,butwouldit

hurttotry...ifitmakesherhappy?IfIgotoatherapistIguaranteeI'llendupinamilitaryprisonbefore
my arse even touches the couch. And even if I do get help, even if there's some magic cure, I'm still
screwed.I'llstillbefightingfordirtymoney,neverabletogiveherthelifeshetrulydeserves—adeserter
ontherun.

"Shewantsmetogethelp.ShethinksIhavePTSDorsomeshit.Saysthefightingmakesitworse."
Heshrugsandleansbackintothesofacushions."Weallhaveourissues,it'showyoudealwiththem

thatdefinesyou."

He's right. I have these issues and on my own they wouldn't be such a problem, but with Poppy...

There'sonlysolongyoucankeepplummetingbeforeyouhitrockbottom.IthoughtPoppywasenoughto
stopthedescent,butallshe'sdoingisslowingitandsufferingwithmeintheprocess.

ChapterThirtySeven

POPPY

“WorldinFlames”–InThisMoment

NABLE

SLEEP

LIE

WIDE

AWAKE

’

NEARLY

MIDNIGHT

WHEN

HEAR

THE

DOOR

UNLOCK

HERE

THE

CLINK

keys dropping onto the table. The water in the kitchen turns on for a moment and then I hear footsteps
comingdownthehallway.ThestreetlightthatfiltersinthroughthewindowcastsjustenoughlightthatI’m
abletomakeoutBrandon'ssilhouetteashestripsoffhisclothes.Myeyesfollowalongthebroadexpanse
ofhischestdowntohisnarrowhipsashewalkstowardthebed,themattressdippingunderhisweight
beforeheslidesinnexttome.

Thesensationofhishotbreathblowsacrossthebackofmyneck,followedbythesoftcaressofhis

lipstrailingfrombelowmyeartothecornerofmyshoulder.Partofmeisrelievedthathe'shome,partof
meisangry—notthathe'sback,butjustthathedoesthis.Thathegoesupanddownandroundandround.
Butitalwayscomesbacktothisrighthere.Tohimandme.And,ifonedayitdidn't,thattypeofheartache
wouldslaughterme.

"I'msorry,"hewhispersintothedarkness."Iloveyou."Irollontomybackandhehoversoverme,

hisfingersstrokingoverthesideofmyfacebeforehismouthcoversmine.Myentirebodyrelaxesasit
gravitatestowardhim.I’mindesperateneedofhistouch,hiswarmembrace.Grippingmyhips,herolls
ontopofmewithoneswiftmovement.Hotskinpressesagainsttheinsideofmythighs.Ishouldbeused
tothewayhefeelsbynow,butmybodystillhasthisinvoluntaryresponsetohim,eachtouchbrandingme
inawaythatonlyhecan.Hislipssweepacrossmineinaghostofakiss,sotentative,yetsofullofneed.
Iclosemyeyeswhenhisroughhandsglidebeneathmyshirt,skimmingmyskinasheliftsthematerialup
andovermyhead.Hismovementsfeelsodesperate,almosttortured,yetundeniablygentle.

We kiss until I'm breathless, until I feel as though he is my oxygen. His touch makes me forget

everything that isn't his mouth or hands, anything that isn't us. And this is how love should be: all
consuming and unexplainable. A place where nothing outside of us exists. And this—this magnetic pull
thatlivesdeepinsidemychest,thatsucksmetohimandmakesmefeellikemyveryexistencedependson
hisnextkiss—I'veonlyeverexperiencedthatwithhim.

"Youareeverything,Poppy,"hebreathesthewordsagainstmylips.
I wind my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He groans when my tongue brushes over his

bottomlip,andhishandcomesuptocupmycheek."Iwillalwaysloveyou,"Isay.

Hisfingersslowlyskimmyhipsbeforehetakesthewaistofmyshorts,draggingthemeversoslowly

downmylegs,andsittingupasheslidesthempastmyankles.Hegrabsmythighs,yanksmedownthe
bed,thengripsmywaistanddragsmeintohislap.Hisstrongarmswraparoundthesmallofmybackand
everysingleinchofhishardbodybleedsintomineuntilitfeelsasthoughwe'remeltingintooneanother.

Raggedbreathsslippastmylips,minglingwithhis.Myfingerstraceoverhisdefinedjaw,andthenhis
lipsareonmine.

Everykissistender,gentle,hisfingerstanglinginmyhairasheslidesinsideofme.Atorturedgroan

slipsthroughhislipsashisforeheadpressestomineandoureyeslock.Thereissomethingsointimate,so
profound,asthoughinthismomentwemayfindthebrokenpiecesweneedtomakeuswhole.Hemoves
slowly,reverently,holdingontomewithasenseofdesperation.Andit'shere,ineachother’sarms,that
wefindourpeace.Thisiswhereeverythingelsefades,wherenothingontheoutsidematters.Meandhim
andthatpullthathasexistedforaslongasIhaveknownhim.Thatfeelingdeepinsidethatthispersonis
trulytheotherhalfofyoursoul.AndforallthefaultsheandIbothhave,whensomethingaspureasthis
exists,everythingelsefadesintooblivion.

Andthat'swhatwedo,fadeintooblivion.

SUNLIGHT

POURS

THROUGH

THE

WINDOW

AND

PULL

THE

COVERS

OVER

FACE

SHIELDING

EYES

FROM

theharshrays.IrolloverandscoottowardBrandononlytofindemptysheets.Isitup,myvisionfocusing
asIlookaroundtheroom.

"Brandon?"Myvoiceechoesthroughtheflat.Iswingmylegsoverthesideofthebed,thewooden

floorcoldbeneathmybarefeetasImakemywayoutintothelivingroom—theemptylivingroom.His
jacket'sgonefromtherack,hisshoes...

Myheartratesteadilyincreaseswitheachbreath.Igrabmyphonefromthecoffeetableanddialhis

number,butitgoesstraighttovoicemail.Andpanicsetsinfullforce.AllIcanthinkaboutishimleaving
me yesterday morning, the way he was last night—like he was saying goodbye. I grab onto the wall to
steadymyself,doublingovertocatchmybreath.Hewouldn't...Butthethingis,Idon’tknowthatIactually
believethat.Brandonisunpredictable.

Ihurrytothebedroomandgrabmycoatfromtheclosetalongwithapairofsneakers.Ithrowmycoat

on,shovemyfeetinsidetheshoes,notbotheringtotiethem,andsnatchmypursefromthekitchencounter
onmywaytothefrontdoor.Mystomachisinknots,bubblingwithanxiety.

The cold wind burns my cheeks when I run outside, and before I've made it three steps, I run, face

first,intoFinn'sbroadchest.

"Whoa,"hesays,catchingmeandholdingthetopsofmyarmstosteadyme.
"Finn."Iglanceupathim.HisbrowspinchtogetherasIstudyhisface.
"Iwascomingtoseeyou."Hetuckshishandsintohispocketsandrollshisshouldersforward.
"Whereishe?"Mypulseishammeringinmytemples.
"Let'sgoinsidesowecantalk."
Iglareathim."Where.Is.He?"I'mshakingasthefearbeatsawayatme.
"He'ssafe,Poppy."Heplacesanarmaroundmyshoulder,guidingmebackinsidethebuilding.
"Finn..."Hetakesthekeysfrommyhandandopensthedoor.Somethingterriblemusthavehappened.

Somethingawfulandhorrible.IbracemyselfasFinnclosesthedoorbehindhimandtakesadeepbreath.

"He'sbeenarrested."
Iblink.Mybrowfurrows."What?"
Hesighs."Heturnedhimselfintothemilitarypolice."
"What?"Ishout,myentirebodyshakingfromfearandangerandshock.MylegsgiveoutandIfall

backontothecouch.

Finndropstoacrouchinfrontofme,duckinghisfacetomakeeyecontactwithme."Heaskedmeto

keepaneyeonyou.He'sexpectingtodotimeforit,butyouandIbothknowhe'snotgoingtopassany
psychevaluation,Poppy."

"Whydidhe..."Ishakemyhead."Whywouldn'thehavetoldme?"

Hiseyesfillwithsadnessandhecoversmyhandwithhisown."Youaskedhimtostopfightingand

that'swhathe'sdoing."

"Shit."Iburymyfaceinmyhands.Itakeafewdeepbreaths.Brandonisinjail.Lockedup.Alone.

AndallbecauseIcouldn'tshutmymouth.Imadehimfeellikethereissomethingwrongwithhim,that
he'snotgoodenough.Tearswellinmyeyes.Mythroatgoesalltightandasobracksmybody.

Finn moves to sit on the sofa beside me, hugging my shoulders as he pulls me into his side. "Don't

cry,"hesays,andIrestmyheadonhisshoulderbecauseIfeelcompletelydrained."Heneedstodothis,
Poppy.Trustme."

There's a knock on the door and Finn stands to answer it, but before he reaches it the door swings

openandHopecomescrashingthrough,nearlyknockinghimover.

"Fuck'ssake,"Hopesays,rushingtomysideanddrapingherarmsaroundme."Areyouokay?"She

looksoveratFinn."Couldhavecalledmesooner."

"I'mgoingto…go,"Finnedgestowardthedoor.
Hope’sarmsarearoundmesotighttheynearlysuffocateme."It'sgoingtobeokay.Maybenowthe

assholewillactuallygethelp."Shepullsawayenoughtolookatme."See,it'llbeforthebest."

Idon'tmove.AllIcanmanagetodoisstareoverhershoulderattheopenbedroomdoor.Attheempty

bed.Mychestistightwithanger,myhearthammeringagainstmyribs.ThefactthatBrandondidn'teven
tellme,askme,warnme—ithasmepissed.

ChapterThirtyEight

BRANDON

“INeedaDoctor”–Dr.Dre,Eminem,SkylarGrey

LEAN

BACK

THE

OLD

CHAIR

STARING

ACROSS

THE

DESK

. W

ATSON

. S

HER

LATE

THIRTIES

WITH

blondehaircutinabobthatjustskimsherjaw.Proppingherelbowsonthedesk,sheplacesafileinfront
ofherandstaresdownthelengthofhernoseatthepaperworkapparentlysummingupmylifestory.

Isighimpatientlyandfoldmyarmsovermychest.Finally,shelooksupatme,asmallsmiletouching

herlips.

"It'sbeenalmosttwoyearssinceyoudeserted,Mr.O’Kieffe,"shesays.
"Well done. You read my file," I say through clenched teeth, trying to bite back the anger that's

simmering just below the surface as always. I don't like the word desert. It makes it sound like I left
peoplewhowererelyingonme,andIdidn't.

Sheinhales,hereyessetonme."Well,thatismyjob..."Herfingersdrumoverthetable."Whydid

youleaveyourpost?"

"Mypostwasatmybestfriend'sside."Mychesttightenswithapainsooldandengrainedyou'dthink

Iwouldbeusedtoitbynow."Hedied.Jobdone,"Igrateout.

"Iunderstandthatmusthavebeenhardtowitnessyourbestfriendpassaway,butyourjobwaswith

themilitary,notyourbestfriend.Again,whydidyouleave?"

Isnort,plasteringasmirkonmyfaceasIleanforwardandpropmyelbowsonmyknees."Ihaveno

loyaltytothearmy.It'sneverdoneshitforme."

Iwatchherwatchme."Whyhaveyouturnedyourselfin?"
"Ihavemyreasons."
Smiling,sheleansbackinherchair."You'regoodatavoidingquestions,aren'tyou?"
"Honestly,I'm just goingthrough the motions.So why don't youjust sign whateveryou need to sign

andIcangetoutofthisshithole."

"It'snotthateasy,Mr.O’Kieffe.YouneedtounderstandyoucommittedacrimeandIamheretohelp

you, but in order to do that, I need to understand the psychology of why you left, why you've turned
yourselfin."

"Idon'tknowwhyIleft."Ishrugoneshoulder."Vehicleblewup,everyonediedexceptme.Igotout

andIstartedwalkingandIdidn'tstop."Untilnow,untilher.

"Doyouhavetroublesleeping—nightmares,flashbacks?"
IfrownasIrememberwakingupwithmyarmpinnedacrossPoppy'sthroat.Inod.
"Howdoyouhandlethose?"
Ihuffalaugh."Youtellme."

Shenods.Mylegkeepsbouncing.Ijustwanttogetthisshitoverwithandgetthefuckoutofhere.I

don'tneedherpsychoanalyzingeverydamnthing—thingsnobloodydegreecangiveyouaclueabout.She
can'thelpme.There'sonlyonepersonwhocanhelpme,andIlefthertocomehere.Iswipemyhands
downmyface.Fuck.

Sheopensherdeskdrawerandrummagesthroughitbeforepullingoutasheetofpaper.Shehandsit

tomealongwithapen."Iwantyoutoanswerthesequestionsbasedonyourfeelingsoverthepastthree
monthsasbestyoucan."Idon'ttakeit,insteadIjustglareather."Brandon,Ineedyoutoanswertheseso
Icanhelpyou."

I take the piece of paper and pen, glancing over the questions. Do you feel on edge? Do you feel

worthless?Sighing,Itossthepaperbackonherdesk."Thisisawasteoftime."

"Notmanypeoplewillinglywalkinheretwoyearsafterthey'vedeserted,sowhy,ifyouaren'tgoing

tocooperate,areyouhere?"

Idragbothhandsthroughmyhairandsigh.MyheartthumpsheavilyinmychestandIalmostdon't

want to talk about Poppy, as though she's my crippling weakness. "I'm tired of running. Tired of flying
undertheradar."

"Okay." She leans over her desk and pushes the paper back toward me. "Then fill this out." She

smiles.

Fuckmylife.Itakeherfuckingpaperandticknotoeverysingleoneofherfuckingquestionsandpush

itbackacrossthedesk."See,I'mgrand."Iwink.

"Beingasmartasswillgetyounowhere,Mr.O’Kieffe."Shesighs...again.Shedoesanawfullotof

that.

"Look,Ifuckingturnedmyselfin.Willinglywalkedthroughthedamngates.Whatmoredoyoupeople

wantfromme?"

"Iunderstandthat,butwhatI'mafraidyoudonotunderstandisthat,unlessIcandocumentwhatyour

reasonforleavingyourpostwas,youmayverywellendupinjail.Dependingonwhetheryouwerejust
some guy who was tired of being at war, or some guy who has suffered severe mental trauma, the
punishmentthemilitaryseesfitfordesertingvaries..."Shearchesabrow."Greatly."

Iplacemypalmsflatonherdesk,clenchingmyjawsohardithurts."Withallduerespect,doctor,

untilyouhavebeeninawarzone,untilyouhavewatchedtheonlybrotheryoueverhaddie...youcan't
helpme.Yourbooksdon'tevencomefuckingclose.Theonlypersonwhocanhelpme,isbeyondthese
walls,sojustdowhateveryouneedtodo.LetmeservemytimesoIcangetbacktoher."

"I am doing what I need to do." She opens the drawer again, pulling out another of those damn

questionnaires."YoudowhatIneedyoutodo,andI'llmakesureyougetbacktoherassoonaspossible."

"Fine." I go over her questions, answering them almost truthfully before giving the piece of paper

backtoher.

"Thankyou.That'sallfortoday."
Thankfuck.

BEEN

OVER

WEEK

SINCE

SEEN

OPPY

AND

THE

SECOND

LAY

EYES

HER

CAN

BREATHE

properlyagain.

Shesitsatasmalltablenexttothewindowinthevisitingroom,hergazetrainedontheworldoutside.

HerbottomlipistakingsomeabusefromherteethandIcanpracticallyfeeltheanxietyrollingoffher
from here. Her head snaps up as I approach, those grey eyes of hers locking with mine, swirling with
emotion.

"Hey,"Isay,takingaseatoppositeher.
"Whydidn'tyoutellme?"Hervoiceisshaking,herfacered.

Itakeoneofherballedupfistsinmyhand,smoothingherfingersout.Iliftherhandtomyface,and

brushmylipsoverherknuckles.Shesnatchesherhandawayandglaresatme."Don'ttrytocharmme,
Brandon.Answermyfuckingquestion."

Ibitemylip,tryingtostiflealaughbecausedamnshehasadirtymouthwhenshe'spissed,andwith

herlittletwangitsomehowsoundsworse."Didn'tFinnexplainthis?"Iask.

Her eyes widen. Her nostrils flare. "Are you serious right now? I didn't want Finn to explain it to

me."Shestandsandgrabsherpursefromthetable.

Iquicklypushtomyfeet,grabherwrist,andyankhertowardsme.ShecollideswithmychestandI

wrapmyhandaroundthebackofherneck,slammingmylipsoverhers.Shefreezes,herbodygoingrigid
forasecondbeforeshesoftensandbecomespliantinmyarms.Myfingersskimjustbeneaththehemof
hertop,trailingthewarmskinatthebaseofherspine.HerlipspartonasmallgaspandIsmileagainst
hermouthbeforenippingherbottomlip.

I rest my forehead against hers as I stroke my knuckles over her cheek. "Please don't go," I breathe

againstherlips.

"God,Ihateyou."Shegroansandherwarmbreathblowsacrossmylipsasherfingerswindaround

mybiceps.Sheclingstomeforamomentbeforeshestepsback."Youshouldhavetoldme."

Itakeaseatinabidtoforcemyselfawayfromher."Youwouldn'thaveletmedoit,andIneededto

dothis,poss.Forus."

Anexasperatedsighleavesherlipsandsheflopsdownonthechair.
"ThismightbetheonlytimeinmylifeIactuallymadetherightdecisionbabe.Don'thatemeforit."
"Howlongdoyouhavetostayhere?"
Ishrug."Noidea.Alldependswhattheshrinksaysapparently."
"OhGod,I'msurewhoeverthatdoctoris,ishavingafielddaywithyou."
Igrin."Idon'tthinkshelikesme."
"Youbetternotbeanassholetoher."Poppygivesmeasternlook."You'vebeenanasshole,haven't

you?"

"I'mafuckingdelight,"Isaydefensively.
"Great,they'llneverletyououtinthatcase.Youknow..."Hergazefallstothefloorandshebegins

fidgetingwithaloosestringonhersweater."Italkedtooneofthemilitaryguysatwork,Fergus,hesaid
thatsinceyouhavePTSDtheyshouldletyougoaslongasyouagreetotreatment."

"WhothefuckisFergus?"Iscowlacrossthetable.WhatkindoffuckingnameisFergus?"Hesounds

likeaprick."

Throwingherheadback,shegroansanddragsherhandsdownherfacebeforeshelooksbackupat

me. "That's all you heard?" She shakes her head. "He's one of the guys that rotates in through Headley
Court. He's the one who gave me all those PTSD books to help me deal with your mood swings for
Christ'ssake—"

"Yeah,I'msurethat'swhathewasdoing,fuckinghelpingyou.Mymoodswingswouldbealotbetter

ifIdidn'thavetodealwithtwatslikeFerguschattingupmygirl."IcockaneyebrowatheranddamnI
wanttohitsomething.

Sheshovesmyshoulder."Shutupalready,wouldyou,ordoyouwanttogofindyourclubanddrag

mebacktoyourroombymyhair?"

"If only," I grumble. "Anyway, I don't have PTSD. I swear, the army just wants to stamp my damn

foreheadwiththatshitandmovethefuckalong."

Poppylooksatme,hereyesallsympatheticlikeI'mafuckingabandonedpuppyononeofthoseTV

adverts."It'snotabadthingtohave,”shesays.“Itiswhatitis..."

I exhale a heavy breath and tilt my head back, focusing on the harsh florescent lights in the ceiling

aboveme."Possum..."

"Forme.Justbehonestwithher,letherhelpyou.Please."
Jesus,fuckingshit.Iliftmyheadandmeetherpleadingeyes.Isweartogod,Ishouldjusthandhermy

ballsforsafekeeping.I'vealmostfinishedgrowingmyvaginaanyway."Fine,"Ihuff.

Asmilelightsupherfaceandshefoldsherarmsonthetable,pushingtoherfeetandleaningacrossit.

She kisses me, and I reach for her, but she backs up quickly. Letting out a groan, I grip the edge of the
table.Damn,aweekwithoutherandI'mfeelingparticularlyuptight.

"Ihavetogo,orI'llmissmytrain,butIloveyou."Shepicksupherhandbagandwebothstand.
I take hold of her and pull her close, wrapping my arms around her. The scent of her perfume

surroundsmeandIbreathedeep,pressingmylipsintoherhair."Iloveyou."

Shetiltsherheadbackandbringsherlipstomineoncemorebeforesheslipsawayfromme.

ChapterThirtyNine

BRANDON

“Sail”-AWOLNATION

MONTH

LATER

OUR

WEEKS

ONLY

SPENT

FOUR

WEEKS

THAT

PLACE

WITH

THAT

FUCKING

DOCTOR

TURNED

MYSELF

FULLY

expectingtospendmonths,ifnotyearsthere.

Ididn'tgotoprisonbecauseIhavepost-traumaticstressdisorder.There,Iadmittedittomyself.Istill

don'tlikesayingitoutloud.Itfeelsclichéandfuckingwhiny,ablanketdiagnosisforeveryguywhohas
demons.Butwhateveritis,itisreal.Anditstillhauntsme,therageisstillreal,andIwastoldrepeatedly
inmytimethere,thattheyalwayswillbe.Thisispermanent,analteredaspectofmypersonalitythatI
will always have to live with. It seems daunting and damn right depressing, but I have Poppy. I have a
reasontofightthis,areasontobebetter.

Igetoutoftheshowerandgotothebedroom,staringatthegreyuniformonthebed.Ajob.Ihavea

job,andthethoughtmakesmeanxious.Iknowthefightingmakesmyangerworse,butIcan'tsayIdon't
likethefreedomofit.There'ssomethingtobesaidformakingmoneydoingsomethingyou'regoodat.The
treatmentcentrehelpsgetex-soldierslikemeintojobs,butofcourse,Ihavearecord.Employerslove
ex-military but no one wants to employ the guy with an assault charge to his name. I sigh and drop the
towelbeforegettingdressed.Iscowlatmyreflectioninthefull-lengthmirror.Thisiswhatnormallife
lookslikeapparently,atwatingreypolyestertrousersthatclearlywerenotmadeforaguyofmybuild.
I'm going to have thigh chafe within the hour. I leave the bedroom and Mort runs over to me, his bell
tinklingwitheverystep.Herubshisfaceagainstmylegandpurrs.Bendingdown,Ipickhimup,cradling
hisnakedbodytomychest.Thelittlegingertuftonhisheadsticksupmakinghimlooklikeoneofthose
trolltoysthatPoppyusedtocollectwhenshewasakid.

WhenIcomeouttothelivingroom,theradioisblaringandPoppy'sinthekitchensingingalongto

someShawnMendessong.She’swearingoneofmyoversizedt-shirts,andIcan'thelpbutletmyeyes
dragoverherbarelegs.Iattempttosneakupbehindher,butshespinsaroundwithaplateinherhand,all
smiles."Goodmorning."Hergazesweepsovermyuniformandhersmiledeepens."Youlookreallyhot
inthatuniform."Shebitesdownonherlipbeforegrabbingmytieandyankingmedownforaquickkiss.

"You'recute,"Isayonaglare.
"Madeyoubreakfast.Eggs,bacon,andpizza."Shehandsmetheplatewithalaugh."Manfood."
"Thanks."Islapherarse."You'reakeeper."Itakeaseatatthebreakfastbarandshesitsnexttomeas

Ishovelaforkfulofbaconintomymouth.

"Areyouexcitedaboutyourfirstday?"
WhatdoIsaytothat?Shelookssofuckinghopeful,butseriously,whothehellsitsdownandthinks:

Mygrandambitioninlifeistobeasecurityguard.Noone."Sure."Itakeabiteofpizza.

"I was thinking, your office isn't far from mine, maybe we could do lunch?" She grins, her eyes

sparkling.

"Sure,babe."Ilikeseeingherhappy.
SinceIgothome,Icanseethissenseofhopeinhereyes.Asifeverythingwillbeokay.Asifmaybe,

justmaybeI'mfixed.HopeissuchatenuousyetpowerfulemotionandIhaven'tfeltitinalongtime.So,I
smile.Iallowherhopetoinfectmebecausemaybethiswillallworkout.MaybethisjobiswhatIneed,
whatweneed.

"Whataboutnoon?"sheasks.
Ishrug."Yep."Istandup,putmyplateinthedishwasher,anddowntherestofmycoffee.It'snotthe

samewithoutwhiskeyinit,butnormalpeopledon'tdrinkIrishcoffeebeforetheygotowork.I'mtoldI
shouldbelivingratherthansurviving,andsomecunttheretoldmealcoholissimplyamask…Well,right
now,thisdoesn'tfeellikeliving,itjustfeelslikeshit.Ieyethecabinetwherewekeptthewhiskeybut
turnaway.

"Okay,byebabe."Iturntofaceherandshestepscloser,reachingupontiptoesandplacingakisson

mylips.Shetriestopullaway,butIwrapmyhandaroundthebackofherneckandsweepmytongueover
herbottomlip.HerlipspartandIfightasmileasIslidemyhandbeneaththebottomofhert-shirtand
grabherarse.

"Youbetterstopitoryou'llbelate."Shesaysthis,althoughrightnow,she’snippingatmylip.
Ipullbackandcockabrowather."And?"Igripherwaistandliftherontothekitchenside,pressing

betweenherlegs.Theshirtridesupallowingmeapeekofherpinklaceunderwear."Ah,poss,"Igroan,
bitingmybottomlip.

"Stop,"shesaysashercheeksblush.
"YouknowhowIfeelaboutthepinklace."Igrinbeforedraggingmylipsupthesideofherneck.
Sheswatsatme."Gotowork,youperv."
Myteethgrazeherearlobeandsheshivers,herbreathhitching.Itrailmyfingersuptheinsideofher

thigh, and that makes her stop breathing altogether for a split second. Her legs tighten around my waist
whenIbrushoverherunderwearandthepolyestertrousersareeventighterthanbefore."You'renotvery
persuasive,”Isay.

"You,ontheotherhand,"hereyesdriftdowntomyever-tighteningcrotch,"are."
"Hmm."Ifistherhair,tuggingonituntilherheadtiltsback."Let’sjustcallinsick.”Iplaceateasing

kisstothecornerofhermouth.

And here comes the eye roll. "It's your first day..." she pushes me away from her and hops off the

counterbeforegrabbingmebytheshouldersandspinningmearoundtofacethedoor."Gobeforeyou're
late."

Ireadjustmyself."Fine,butbabe,ourlunchdatejustbecamealunchblowie.Youoweme."
"Andhow,exactly,doIoweyou?Youaretheonewhostartedit."She'sstillpushingmetowardthe

door.

"AndIwouldhavefinishedit."Ismile.
"OhmyGod..."Sheopensthedoor."Iloveyou."
"Notthatmuch."Ipout,readjustingmyjunkagain.Damnthesetrousersaresnug.
SheslamsthedoorbehindmeandIsigh.Timetofacereality.

GLANCE

WATCH

FOR

WHAT

FEELS

THE

HUNDREDTH

TIME

THE

FUCK

CAN

ANYONE

GET

PAID

JUST

sitandwatchafuckingdoor?Ithrowmyheadbackandstareattheceiling,readytogoandjumpoffthe
nearestbridge.Peoplecomeinandoutofthebuilding.Thelobbyisfilledwiththesoundofrepetitiveas
fuckclassicalmusicandtheclickingofheelsacrossthemarble.Forthefirsthourorso,Icouldn'tdeal
withallthepeople,thecrowds.Thenafterawhile,IguessIgotdesensitized.Andnow,I'mjustsitting
here,notreallypayingattentiontoanything.Iwanttobashmyheadonthisdeskrepeatedly.

"Brandon."
IblinkandlookupatPoppy.She'sstandingthere,hereyebrowsraised."Yeah.Hey."
"How'syourdaygoing?"Sheglancesaroundthelobbythenbackatme.
Boringasfuck.Itmakesmewanttostabmyselfintheeyewithapaperclip."Great,"Ilie.Ithinkmy

eyejusttwitched.

Sheholdsupapaperbagwithalittlepandaonit."Gotyouthatcrispyseaweed."
Thereisagod.Thehighlightofmydayisgoingtobethatseaweed.
"See,thisishowIknowthisistruelove."Itakethebagfromherandgiveherakiss,pullingherinto

myside.Sheplacesherpalmonmychestaswewalktowardtheexit.

"Ilovethatyouworksoclosetome.Wecanhavelunchtogethereverydayifyouwant?"
"Yeah,wecan."AndeventomyownearsIsoundrobotic.Jesus,howdopeopledothis?

ChapterForty

POPPY

“Arsonist’sLullaby”-Hozier

HREE

MONTHS

LATER

OPE

LAID

THE

COUCH

HER

HEAD

HANGING

OFF

THE

EDGE

HER

FEET

THE

WALL

."C

OME

HERE

ORT

."S

clickshertongueandMortgoesprancingovertoher."Where'sthecuntat?"

"Atthegym."
"Standard."
Igrabtheremoteandflipthroughthechannels.Commercial.Commercial.News.Somemusical...
"So,howarethingsgoing?"
"Good."
"No,really."Hopedropsherlegsfromthewalltothecouchandsitsup,herredhairstickingupinall

directions."Howishe?"

"He'sfine..."
"BrandonO’KieffehasneverbeenfineaslongasI'veknownhim."
"Hope..." I sigh. Every once in a while she does this. She thinks I'm hiding something from her, or

lyingtoher...Thethingis,everythingisactuallyfine.Nomorefighting.Nomorerage.Hestillhashisups
andhisdowns.Butheissomuchbetter.He'slearnedhowtohandleit.Howtocope.Ithink…

"Look,I'mjustsaying,something'sgoingtogiveatsomepoint."
Iglareather,myfoottappingoverthefloorasaslowrageburnsthroughmychest."Why?"Itossmy

handsintheair."Whydoessomethingjusthavetogiveatsomepoint,huh?Whycan'twejustbehappy?
Whycan'tyoujustacceptthateverythingisfine?"

ShestaresatmeforafewsecondsandIcanseehermullingoverwhattosayinherhead."Youdo

realizehehasdoneacompleteone-eighty,right?"

Iglareather.
"Peoplerelapse.It'spartoflife,Poppy,andIjustdon'twantyoublindsidedwhenithappens."
"He.Is.Fine."
"Brandon was beating the shit out of lads twice his size when he was fourteen, by sixteen he was

winningmoney,andbyseventeenhewasabare-knuckleboxingchampion.Hejoinedthearmy.Hisjob
was to kill people. That boy is hot blooded male through and through. He lives to fight, and he's damn
goodatit.Andnowhe'sasecurityguard..."Sheshakesherhead."Idon'tbuyit."

"Well,goodnews,youdon'thavetobuyit,Hope."Itellmyselfsheisonlytryingtohelp,thatsheis

tryingtobeagoodfriend,butpartofmewantstotellhertomindherowndamnbusiness.

"AllI'msayingis,don'tbenaïve.Don'tgetsowrappedupinwantingeverythingtoberightthatyou

misswhenitstartstogowrong."

"You know what?" I stand up. "Fuck you, Hope. Who the hell are you to give me any kind of life

advice?Youhavenoideawhatitistolive.Noideawhatreallifeisabout.Just..."Ishakemyhead,my
facegrowinghot."Justgo."

Sheshrugs."Maybenot,butyou'remyfriendPoppyandIloveyou.Youcanhatemeforit,butIwill

always tell you the shit you don't want to hear." She gets up, swinging her Hermes handbag over her
shoulderbeforeslammingthedoorbehindher.

Isitontheedgeofthesofaandstareatthewallforafewminutes,myskintinglingwithadrenaline.

Andthen,Iexhale,lettingmyheadfallintomyhands.Whycan'tshejustletmeliveintheblissthatthings
willstayliketheyare?

I see the way he glances at the alcohol behind the bar when we go to a restaurant. I watch his leg

bounceunderthetable,hishandswringing.Ifeelhisbodytensewhenwegoontothesubwayortothe
museum.Butthingsarebetter.

Theyhavetobe.

ChapterFortyOne

BRANDON

“SkinnyLove”-Birdy

SIT

AND

WATCH

PEOPLE

MEANDER

THROUGH

THE

PARK

WOMAN

THROWS

BALL

FOR

DOG

GUY

TEACHES

HIS

KID

torideabike.IslidemysunglassesontomyfaceandskipmyiPodontoadifferentsongjustasmyphone
dingswithatext.

Finn:Hey,youaroundtoday?

Iswipeahandthroughmyhairandchuckmyphonebackinsidemypocketwithoutresponding.Asfaras
Poppyisconcerned,I'mwithFinnnow,trainingatthegym.I'vebeendoingthisforthreemonths.Normal.
Everyday. The stuff every other person on the planet seems to cope with just fine. At first I missed the
gym,thatsenseofbelongingthatIneverevenrealisedI'dfoundamongstLarry'srag-tagbandoffighters
untilitwasgone.IusedtohangoutwithFinnalot,gotothegymwithhimandworkthebag.Hell,Ieven
usedtosparwithhimjusttofeedthatdesire.Butasthemonthshavegoneby,Ifindmyselffeelingmore
andmorealone,andinsteadofreachingouttoothers,Irecoilfromthem.

IpretendtoPoppythateverythingisfine,andIjustdon'thavetheenergytopretendforanyoneelse.I

can'tletherknowthatIfuckinghatethis,becausethisiswhatshewants.Thisiswhatshedeserves.A
life. She deserves a guy who has a stable job and who doesn't fly into a rage all the time because he's
fighting,exasperatingtheverythingthatthreatenstoconsumehim.

Butthatjobisunfulfillingineveryway.Andtomakemattersworse,thepayisawful.Icouldmake

moreinonefightthanImakeinamonth.Poppyhadtogetadifferentjobworkingforaprivatehospital.
Thepayisbetterandshegotapromotion,butitmeanssheworksnights—becauseofme.BecauseI'mnot
goodenough.BecauseIcan'tprovideforher.

The worthlessness is starting to feel like a constant friend, weighing me down until each and every

momentfeelsutterlyinconsequential.AndIthinkthatmaybethefightingdefinedme.ItwasallIwasgood
at,allIwasevergoodfor.AndwithoutBrandon'TheBreaker'Blaine,I'mjustaguywithnoprospects,
nodreams.

IcouldgobacktoitifIwanted,andgodIdowantto,butIwon't.BecauseofPoppy.Shewouldwork

everyhourgodgivesherandsacrificeeverythingtokeepmeoutofthatring.Anddoesn'tthatmakemea
selfishbastardforwantingitback?

WhenIseePoppy,Ismile,Ikissher,Iwanther,butI'mashamedofthemansheisstuckwith.AndI'm

terrifiedthatonedayshewilllookatmeandrealisethatI'mnotworthyofherlove,andIneverreally
was.

Withasigh,Igetupandslowlymakemywayhome.Iliketotakethesebreaksontheweekends.Step

out for a bit and get my head together because the more time I spend with her, the more disconnected I
become.

Iwalkinanddropmygymbagtothefloor.Poppyislyingonthecouch,ablanketcoveringherasshe

watchesTV.Herfacebreaksintoasmilewhensheseesme,andfuckifshedoesn'tmanagetomakeme
feellikethemostimportantpersonintheworldforjustafewseconds.

"Hey,"shesays,stretchingherhandsaboveherhead.
"Hey,poss."Iwalkovertothecouchandbendover,bracingmyhandagainstthearmasIkissher.

Herfingersthreadthroughmyhairwhilstherotherhandcupsmyjaw,andmychestclenches.

"Howwasthegym?"
"Good." I quickly kiss her once more before moving away from her and heading into the kitchen. I

grabaplastictuboutofthefridgeandpeerinside,inspectingthecontents.Somethingwithtomatosauce.I
shrugandpopitinthemicrowave.

WhenI turn aroundand she's leaningagainst the door frame,her arms foldedover her chest. "How

wasHope?"Iask.

Herlipspressintoaline."Wehadafight.Ikickedherout."
Ismirkandsherollshereyes."It'sabouttime.Whatdidshedo?"
"ShewasjustbeingHope."Sheshakesherhead."Just,Idon'tknow,runninghermouth."
Isnort."Youhavemet,Hope,right?She'slikeafuckingmouthonlegs."
Poppy shifts her weight from side to side and looks at the ground. "Yeah..." She glances up and a

smalllineappearsinherforeheadlikeshe'sstudyingme."Iloveyou."

Somethinginthatsoundssodesperate.
Inarrowmygazeandseeahintofsadnessinhereyes,butIdon'task.MaybeIdon'twanttoknow,or

maybeIjustdon'tcareanymore.No,that'snotit.I'llalwayscareabouther."Iloveyou,too."

"Tonight'smylastnightthisweekwhichmeansIgetfournightsofsleepingwithyou."Smiling,she

wrapsherarmsaroundme."Naked.We'resleepingnaked."

"Areyoutryingtocorruptme?I'mafullpyjamasguythesedays,youknow?Steadyjob,normallife.If

you'renotcarefulI'llstartschedulingyouinforFridaynightsex."

Sheglaresupatme,aslightsmirktuggingatherlips."BrandonO’Kieffe,"shelaughsandfuckmeshe

isbeautifulwhenshedoes,"youcouldneverbenormal."

Isn'tthatthesadfuckingtruth?"I'mtellingyou,stripeyfuckingpyjamas.Andslippers.Givemeafew

monthsandtherewillbeslippers."

"Youstartwearingslippersandwe'regoingtohaveproblems."
"You'dstillwantme,"Isay,brushingmylipsoverherjawandkissingthespotjustbelowherear.
"True."Alittlesmileworksoverherlipsandshegrabsthewaisttomytracksuitbottomsbeforeshe

slowlydropstoherknees,tuggingthemdownassheglancesupatmeandbitesdownonherbottomlip.

"Didn'tevenneedtheslippers,"Imumbleandshegrins,leaningforwardandputtinghermouthonme.

Fuckme.Myheadfallsbackandmyfingerstangleinherhair.Maybeit'sbecauseshehasthatinnocence
abouther,butnogirlhaseverlookedasgoodonherkneesasPoppydoes.Sherendersmeutterlyweak
andI'malmostashamedathowfastIgetoff.Almost,butnotquitebecauseit'sherandshe'salwayshad
theabilitytoturnmeintoasimperingmess.

"Noslippers,"shesayspushingtoherfeetandheadingtothebedroom.
"Idon'tknow.Imayneedalittlemoreconvincing,"Ishoutafterher,smiling.
IfeellikeIliveforthiswithher,thesemomentsofhappiness.
Afewsecondslater,shecomesoutofthebedroomdressedinapairofpinkscrubs,herhairpulled

intoaponytail.Shegrabsherpursefromthekitchencounterandgivesmeakiss."Loveyou,babe.See
youinthemorning."

Andshewalksoutofthedoor,leavingmealone.Reallyalone.

UNFIRE

ECHOES

AROUND

LIKE

THE

CRACKLING

FIREWORKS

DON

EVEN

KNOW

WHICH

WAY

THE

BULLETS

ARE

flying.Shellcasingstinkeragainsttheharddesertfloor,skitteringoverthetoeofmyboot.Iaim,fire,
aim, fire. Methodical, precise, robotic. I see the faces of men in the rifle sights, but pull the trigger
beforeIcanlockon,andthenI'montothenext.Refusingtolookatthem.Refusingtocommitthemto
memorybecausethesecondIdo,theybecomemorethanatarget.Theybecomeapersonwithafamily,
awife,kids.

IswingmyguntothenexttargetandConnor'sfacestaresbackatmethroughthesights.Itryto

movethegunaway,takemyfingeroffthetrigger,butIcan't.Mylimbsfeellikelead.Hesmilessadly
atme,andthen…I'mpullingthetrigger.Pow.HedropstothegroundandIcryouttohim.

ThenextthingIknowI'monmykneesinthebackofthattruck,myhandspumpingoverhischest,

hiscold,deadeyesstaringatme,mockingme,accusingme.IfeellikeIcanhearhisvoiceinmyhead.

You should have died. I should have lived. You're living my life. You stole her. You aren't good

enoughforher.You'llneverbeme.

"I'msorry.I'msorry."Isaythewordsoverandover,needinghisforgiveness,willinghimtowake

upeventhoughIknowheneverwill.Ineedhim.Sheneedshim.

Ijoltawake,gulpingairintomylungs.Thedreamclingstomeand,Iswear,IcanstillfeelConnor's

presence in my mind like a soft caress. I have had these same dreams ever since he died, reliving that
momentoverandover,butthisisdifferent.Thisismore.It'smixedinwiththefighting,andtheshooting,
thenamelessfacesandtheguilt.Andforthelastfewdays,Ihearhim.He'sthere,inmyhead,tauntingme.

Idon'ttalktoPoppyaboutmydreamsanymore.Idon'twanthertoknowthatIstillhavethem.Idon't

wanthertoknowthatI'mstillbroken.Sheoncetoldmeshecouldn'tfixme,thatIneededhelp.Well,turns
out,Itrulycan'tbefixed,byheroranyoneelse.Thisiswhatshe'sleftwith,halfaman,ashittyfucking
standinfortheguythatshemarried,theonethatshouldhavelived.

I thought the therapy would make everything better. I stupidly clung to that futile hope, never even

realisinghowmuchIneededthatpossibility.Andnow...nowthosehopesaredashed.Thisisit.Thisis
better.Asgoodasitgets.Andshedeservessomuchmore,soIhideitfromher.IhidethefactthatI'mthis
emptyshellbecauseifshesawme—reallysawme—surelyshe'dleave.Whowouldwantthis?Idon't,
butIhavenochoice.Shedoes.

ChapterFortyTwo

POPPY

“ThreeSeed”–SilversunPickups

LOUD

CRASH

WAKES

FROM

SLEEP

SENDING

HEART

INTO

SPRINT

SIT

AND

PAT

THE

OTHER

SIDE

thebed,butBrandon'snotthere.

"What the fuck..." I hear Brandon's voice come from the living room. I glance at the clock on the

nightstand.1:08.Whyishestilloutthere?

Throwingthecoversoff,Iclimboutofbedandstepintothelivingroom.ThebluehazefromtheTV

castsjustenoughlightformetomakeoutBrandon,croucheddown,pickinguppiecesofthebrokenlamp
fromthefloor.Mortjumpsdownfromhisspotonthecouch,stretchingbesidethesofaandyawningashe
kneadshisclawsontherug."Stopit,Mort,"Isnapathimandheglaresatme.

Brandonfreezes."Hey,babe."
"Whathappened?"
"It'snothing.Gobacktobed."Heflopsbackdownonthesofa.
"Youcoming?"
"No."
Istandinthemiddleofthelivingroomwatchinghim.WehardlyseeeachothernowthatIworkthe

night shift. He knows how much his holding me when we sleep means. My gaze drifts back to the
shatteredlampandIswallowhard.Iknowwhythatlampisbroken,andthefactthathewon'tjustadmit
he'shavingnightmaresworriesme."Whynot?"Iask.

Hedragsahandthroughhishairandthenpauses,fistingahandfulofhisdarkstrands."Justgobackto

bed,Poppy.Please."

"Brandon..."Ihesitate,uncertainwhetherIshouldpressthesubject,buthecan'tkeepitallbottledup

inside."Didyouhaveanightmare?"

A commercial comes on the TV and the pale light dances across his face. I see his jaw tense, the

musclesflutteringbeneathhisskin."No.Leaveitalone."

"It'sokayifyoudid."
A cynical laugh rumbles from his chest. "Oh, thanks. Good to know I have your permission to be a

fuckup."

"You'renotafuckup.It'sjustadream—"
“Really?” Sitting up, he swings his legs off the sofa and rests his elbows on his spread knees. His

headdropsforward.Hisfistsrepeatedlyclench."Isthatwhatyoutellyourself?ThatI'mnotfuckedup?
That I just have bad dreams?" There’s a cold cruelty lacing his voice. "Do you think I'm all fixed,
Poppy?"

Mychestgoestight.Mynostrilsflareatthatdig."AllIwantistounderstandyou..."
Heballsonefisttightandrestsitagainsthisforehead,grittinghisteethashepresseshisknucklesinto

hisskin."Youwillneverfuckingunderstandme!"heshoutswithsuchhatethatIflinch.

"OnlybecauseIdon'tthinkyouwantmeto."ThesecondIsayit,Iregretit.HeglancesupatmeandI

can'ttellwhat'sswirlingthroughhishead.

"Whythefuckwouldyouwanttounderstandthis?"Heslapshispalmagainsthisbarechestandhis

eyesdroptothefloor.Hisshouldersriseandfallinunevenswells,hisheavybreathingaudible.Iwishit
wouldallgoaway,theguiltthepain,thememories,butIdon’tbelieveiteverwill.Andit'satpointslike
thisIfeelcompletelyhelpless,likeI'mjustwatchinghimdrownwhileI'mholdingontoaliferaft.

"Justcometobed.Please."Isteptowardhimandtrytotakehishand.
He shakes his head and laughs. "God, he's right. He's fucking right." He grips his head, his fingers

windingthroughhishairinagitation.“I’llneverbegoodenoughforyou.”Hejumpsupfromthecouch
andgrowls.

"Brandon,please..."
"Whydon'tyoujustfuckingleave,Poppy?I'llneverbewhatyouwantmetobe!Ihatethis.Ihatethat

fuckingjob.Ihatethisbullshitlife.Idon'tfitinyourperfectfuckingbox."

"Myperfect..."Itrailoff,watchinghimpacethelengthofthefloor,hishandspullingathishair,his

fistsconstantlyclenching.Idon'tknowwhereanyofthiscamefrom,butdoesitreallymatter?It'shere
andit'sbeenhereloomingbeneaththesurface."Stopit.Just..."Icovermyfacewithmyhands."Stopit,"I
shout.

He laughs, his face twisting into something cruel and unrecognizable. "Why? So we can go back to

pretendingthatI'mConnor?"

Myjawdrops andeverybit ofairrushes frommylungs asI stareathim. Outofall thethingshe's

said, that cut the deepest because he really doesn't see. It has always been him. Always, Brandon who
ownedmyheartandhewillneverbelievethat."Whywouldyousaythat?"

"Istolehislife.Tookhisgirl.Hell,Ievenhavetheshittyninetofivehewouldhavehappilyworked

foryou."Hekicksthecoffeetableoverwitharoar.Mortgoesdashingacrossthelivingroomandintothe
safetyofthebedroom."Fuck!IsweartoGod."Brandon'sfistgoesthroughthesheetrock.Dustfliesup
intotheair."I'mfuckingworthless.Fuckingworthless."Hegrabsavasefromthesidetableandsmashes
itagainstthewall.

Myheart'sinmythroat,mypulsebanginginmytemples,andIfindmyselfbackingawayfromhim.

Andjustlikethat,hefreezes,hiseyeslockingonme.Allthatragemelts,morphingintodespairandgrief.
Hegrabshisjacket,and,withoutaword,heopensthefrontdoor,slammingitclosedbehindhim.

I'mleftstandinginthemiddleofdestruction,staringattheviolencethatmustconstantlybeswimming

insideofhishead.AndwhenI’mfinallyabletodrawinagoodbreath,Icollapsetothefloor,headin
handswonderingwhenloveturnedintoawar?

ChapterFortyThree

BRANDON

“YouCanBeSoCruel”–RoyalBlood

SIT

SOME

SHITTY

BAR

SOME

RANDOM

PART

ONDON

BOTTLE

WHISKEY

SITS

THE

BAR

TOP

FRONT

ofme,ashortglassbesideit.Ifilltheglasshalfwayandneckitinafewgulps.I'vemissedthenumbness,
thequiet.MymindstillsuntilallIcanthinkaboutistheglassinfrontofme.Today,tomorrow,theydon't
matter, just this exact moment. And isn't that just fucking blissful? To a guy like me, it is. What was I
thinking,tryingtoworkanormaljob,tryingnottodrink?Ididn'tgetridofthemonster,Ijustthrewitina
cellar and prayed to fuck it wouldn't come back out. Eventually it was roaring so loud the floorboards
wereshaking,andwhenitgotloose...

IfI’mhonest,IhopePoppyhatesme.Ihopeshegetsoutofthisshit,becausegodknowsI'mtoodamn

weaktoleaveher.Sheismyfatalflaw,mybeatingfuckingheart,andpartofmewantshertogo,tearing
myheartoutwhenshedoesandputtingmeoutofmymiserybecausethisisallforher.Withouther,I'd
haveletthewarhavemealongtimeago.

Isitanddrinkandnoonebothersme.Noonetriestotalktome.Idon'tknowwhattimeitiswhenI

finallystumbleoutofthebar,butwhenIdo,Ibumpintosomeguy.

“Watchit,”hesays,andIdrunkenlywavehimoff.
Iwalktowardthestreet,leaningagainstabintogainmybalance.TheLondontrafficisheavy.The

lullofthetiresoverthewetpavementalmosthasmeinatrance.Iwatchthetaillightsreflectoffthedamp
roadasItakeasteptowardthecurb.Onestep,andIstumble,fallingtomykneesonthewetpavement.I
managetoclimbtomyfeet.MygazefocusesonthelightsoftheLondonEyeinthedistanceasIwalk.I
closemyeyesandkeepputtingonefootinfrontoftheotheruntilI’minthemiddleoftheroad.Waiting.If
I stand here long enough, perhaps fate will fix everything for me, remove me from all this. Someone
shoutsatme.There’sahornandIfeelthebreezefromthevehicleswervingpastme.

Handsgrabme,yankingmebackseveralfeet.“Heymate,whatareyoudoing?”
I turn, focusing my blurred vision on a young guy with blond hair. “You alright?” he asks before

glancingbackatthetrafficandthumbingtotheroad.“Thatdouble-deckernearlyflattenedyouout.”

Ishakemyhead,mysensescomingback.“Thanks.”
Hepatsmeontheshoulderandgivesmeonelast,concernedlookbeforeturningandwalkingoff.
Myheartpounds,adrenalinefloodingmyveinsasIwatchthecarszoomingpast.WhatthefuckamI

doing?

Idon'tknowhowlongIwalk,orevenwhereI'mgoing,butIendupatFinn'sdoor.Iknockandwait.

Knockandwait.Eventually,heopensthedoor,squintingagainstthelightfromthehallway.

"Hey."Istumbleinside,andheclosesthedoorbehindme.

HetossesablankettomeandIfallbackontohissofa,passingoutalmostimmediately.

WOKEN

THE

SHRILL

RINGING

PHONE

THE

MORNING

."F

UCK

LRIGHT

."I

FUMBLE

AROUND

tomeuntilmyhandfindsthephone.Iansweritandpressittomyear."Yeah?"

"Brandon, this is Adam Connell." Ah, fuck me. "Are you coming into work today?" he says in that

holier-than-thoutone.Hemanagesofficesecurityforfuckssake.You'dthinkhewassomekindofhotshot.

"No,I'mnotcomingin."Myskullispoundingwiththehangoverfromhell.
"Weexpectourstafftoberesponsibleandreliable—"
"Shoveyourfuckingjob."Ihangupandtossthephoneonthetable.
"Smooth."IglancebehindmeandseeFinnleaningagainstthekitchendoorframe.
"LookslikeI'minthemarketforajob,huh?"
"Yourskillsetisprettylimited."Hesmirks."Butyoucanalwaysfight."
I know he's joking, but the idea is oh so tempting. Such easy money, and that feeling…I miss the

energyofit,thebloodlustintheair,butmostofall,Imisstherespectthateveryoneusedtolookatme
with. I miss being the best at something, being admired for it. And maybe I miss the continuity of it.
FightingwassomethingthatIdidbeforeeverythingwenttoshit,aconstantpointinmylifethathasnever
changed.Theabilitytofight.Theabilitytowin.

IimaginethedisappointmentonPoppy'sface,butthenI’mremindedofthethingsIsaidtoher.I’ve

gotten to the point that I just accept that I’ll always disappoint. I tried. I did, but I will always let her
down.Ifshehasn'talreadyrealisedthat,thenshewill.

IpickupmyphoneanddialLarry'snumber.Itringsforawhileandthenhefinallypicksup."Yeah?"
"Iwantafight."
ThisiswhoIam,andthispaysalotbetterthanafuckingsecurityjob.

ChapterFortyFour

POPPY

“Hallelujah”–JeffBuckley

DIDN

SLEEP

LAST

NIGHT

. I

WORRIED

. I

CALLED

RANDON

AND

INN

...

BUT

DIDN

DARE

CALL

OPE

. I

DON

wanthertoknowshewasright.Idon'twanttolistentohernagatmetogetout,becauseIwon't.Irefuse
togiveuponhim.That'snotwhatyoudowithsomeoneyoulove.It'sjustnot.

Finnfinallytextedmeat4AMtoletmeknowBrandonwassafe.Icalledhiswork.Evidently,that's

gone.Andthat'sfine.Ifhehatedthatjob,hedoesn'tneedit.Wedon'tneedit.Butnowit'snineatnightand
Brandonstillhasn'tcalledme.Notoneword.Onebreath.

Myheadachesfromamixtureofworryandanger,andjustwhenI'monmywaytothekitchentograb

somemedicine,mydoorbellrings.

"Poppy.”Hopeshoutsthroughthethickwood.Poppy!"
"Great,"ImumbleundermybreathasItossaparacetamolintomymouthandswallow.
"I know you're home.” The door knob rattles. “Answer the door, or I'll be forced to smash your

bedroomwindowandclimbin."

Groaning,Iflipthelockandyankthedooropen.
"Here,"Hopehandsmeajacketandgrabsmebythearm,pullingmeintothewalkway."Putthison.

Let'sgo.Chop-chop."Shesnapsherfingers.

"Whatthe..."
"Comeon,wouldyou?"
"Hope,I'mnotgoinganywhere."
Sheturnsaround,popsherhipout,andplacesherhandonit."We'regoingtoThePit,andyouwantto

knowwhy,becauseBrandon,likethecuntthatheis,isdueafightinabouttwentyminutes."

"What?"
"Yeah,solet'sgoonnow,shallwe?"
Myheartbangsagainstmychest,bloodcoursesthroughme,settingmyentirebodyonfire."Oh,I'm

goingtokillhim."

"Yep,yep.Socomeon."
Fifteen minutes later, we're shoving our way through the crowded bar. I'd forgotten how rotten the

insideofthisplacesmells.Likebeer,piss,stalecigarettesandcheapaftershave.ThesecondIopenthe
doortothebasementtheroarofthecrowdnearlydeafensme.Breaker.Breaker.Breaker.Witheverystep
Idescend,mypulsepounds.Hopegrabsmyshoulderswhenwereachthebottom."Don'treallykillhim.
Maybejustafewgoodwhacksupsidehishead,huh?"

Glaring,Iyankawayfromhergrip.I'veneverseenthisplacesocrowded.Walltowall.Peopleare

shouldertoshoulder.Yelling.Shouting.Toastingeachother.

The microphone crackles and the feedback kicks in. "Gone from the ring for four months, he's back

with a vengeance." Larry pauses for dramatic effect and everyone in the place goes batshit crazy.
"Brandon'TheBreaker'Blaine!"

I'mshoulderingmywaythroughpeople,weavingbeneathsweatyarms.Ipushpastagroupofmenin

leather jackets and then, I’m right at the edge of the ring. And there Brandon stands, in the middle, his
handstaped,hishairmessy.He'spacinglikeacagedanimal,atigerhungryforblood.Witheachagitated
movement,Icatchaglimpseofthatmonsterwillingandreadytoclawitswayout.AndIdon’twantitto
gethim.

I climb between the worn ropes. Men shout and whistle and Brandon whips around, his nostrils

flaringlikeanangrybullwhenhisgreeneyeslandonme.Iwalkstraightuptohim,dizzywithfearand
anger,andIstop,glaringupathim."Getthefuckoutofthisring,"Isay,myvoiceshaking.

The crowd boos. A crumpled beer can lands inches from my feet. "Get the pretty out of the ring,

wouldyou,"somepikeycallsout.

"Getout,Brandon,"Isayitagainbecausethereisaveryrealfeargrippingmebythethroat.Thiswill

destroyeverything.AndIcan'tletthathappen.

"Getyourfuckingbitch…"avoicecomesfrombehindme,"outofthering."Iturnandglareattheguy

bouncingonhisheels,hishandstapedandreadytoraindownblowsonBrandon.

IturnbackandBrandon'sgonecompletelystill.Hisjawsetsandhecrackshisnecktotheside.I've

seenthatlookinhiseyeoncebefore—thenighthehitme.Thenighthenearlykilledtwoguys.Hewalks
straightpastme,approachinghisopponent.

"Finn," he says, his voice low and gravelly. The next thing I know, Brandon throws a punch at the

otherfighter’sfaceandbloodsplattersthefrontofmytop.

"Thefuckdidyoujustsaytoher?"Brandonshoutsashegrabstheguybythehairandslamshishead

backagainsttheconcretewithaloudcrack.

The guy manages to pull his arms up in front of his face as Brandon batters his torso with ruthless

blows.Hismusclescoilandtensewitheachmercilessstrike.

Someonegrabsmebythewaist,liftingmeupandovertherope."Youalright?"Finnasksashepulls

meawayfromthering.Thecrowdisgoingballistic,butevenwiththeircheers,Icansomehowstillmake
out the sound of Brandon's fists smashing over that guy's face, the sickening whack of bone against the
concrete.

I'vebeensowrong.
Brandonhasalwaysbeenthiswildthing,outofcontrol,andmaybehe'sright.MaybeIwastryingto

shove him into some perfect box, not because I wanted him to change, just because I wanted him to be
abletoletthatguiltgo.AllIhaveeverwantedisforhimtobehappy.AndIrealizethatsometimeswe
thinkwe'rehelpingsomeoneandallwe'redoingisplacingaBand-Aidoverabullethole.

FEEL

AWFUL

CONFUSED

TUPID

"Poppy,"Hoperubsherhandovermyshoulder."Youcan'tfeelguiltyaboutanyofthis."
Thethingis,Ihadnobusinesssteppingintothatring.Iwasjustsopissedandscaredand...tired.I'm

justsotired.

Hopeturnshercaroff,butIshakemyhead."No."
"I'mnotabouttoletyouwalkintherebyyourself,he'llbesavage."
"Hope, no." I stare at her before opening the door and stepping out of the car. "I'll call you in the

morning."Ishutthedoorandwalkalongthesidewalk,upthestairs,takingabreathbeforeIplacethekey
intothelock.IhavenoideawhattoexpectwhenIgoinside,butwhenIdo,Istopmid-stride,thekeys

stillinmyhandanddooropen.

Brandon is sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa and his arms draped over his knees.

There's a bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand. His fingers are coated in blood, a dark red smudge
staininghischeek.Butthethingthatbreaksmyheartisthetearsthatpourdownhisface.

IhaveseenBrandonmad.I'veseenhimquiet.I'veevenseenhimsad,butIcan'teverrememberhim

crying.Andthisterrifiesme.

Hisglassyeyesarelookingstraightatme,buthedoesn'tseemtonoticeme.
"Brandon..."Iclosethedoorbehindme,fidgetingwiththekeysinmypalm.
Hetipsthebottlebackandswallowsseveralheavygulps.Isteptowardhimcautiously,droppingto

mykneesinfrontofhim."Brandon,"IwhisperhisnamebecauseIdon'teventhinkhe'shererightnow,
andI'mscaredofwhereheis,afraidtostartlehim.

Hiseyesslowlymeetmine.It'slikehiswoundedsoulisbeggingmeforatypeofhelpthatIhaveno

ideahowtogivehim.

"Poss,"hewhispers.
And for whatever reason, the tenderness in his voice breaks me even further. I stare into his

eyes...grief swallowing me because it’s painfully apparent that the memories plaguing Brandon's mind
mightaswellbeaterminalillnessbecausehewilldiewiththis.It'sasmuchapartofhimasheisapart
ofme.

Ireachoutandcuphischeek.Hecloseshiseyes,leaningintomytouch."I'msorry,"hesays,before

tippingthatbottlebackagain.Ihatethis.Ihatethathefeelsheneedstoapologizetome.

"Nothingtobesorryfor."Igrabhishandandit'sdrenchedwithsweat."Let'sgotobed.Comeon."
Reluctantly,hestands,stumblingandfallingintothewallseveraltimesonthewaytothebathroom.I

turnthetapsandletthewaterheatbeforeIhelphimoutofhisbloodstainedclothes.Hetakesaseatonthe
edgeofthetub,juststaringatmeliketheworldendsrightherewithmeandhim.

"I'msorry,"hewhispers,tearsstilllingeringinhisgreeneyes.
"Shhh." I run the washcloth under the scalding water and wash the blood and sweat from his face,

fromhisneckandchest,hishands.Idryhimoffandwegotolieinbed.

Iliedownandherestshisheadonmychest.Iplacemypalmagainsthischeek,runningthefingersof

my free hand through his thick hair. And for a moment, we remain in the silence, in the blaring quiet. I
listentothedeepinhaleandexhaleofhisbreathing,painradiatingwitheachraggedbreath.

"Youknowyoushouldgetoutofthis,"hesays,breakingthesilence."Saveyourself."
I shake my head and those tears I've been trying desperately to hold in fall free. "We're not talking

aboutthisrightnow."

He wraps his arm around my stomach, holding onto me so tight, it's as though he's scared I'll

disappear."IturneverythingItouchtoshit.I'mpoison."

Thatiswhathisfatherusedtosaytohim.ThatiswhatBrandonhasbeentoldhiswholelife.Whathe

hasbeenconditionedtobelieve.Andhowdoyouexplaintosomeonewhocan'tlovethemself,whocan't
managetoseetheirownworth—howdoyouexplaintothatpersonthattheyareyourworld?

Youcan't.Imaysaythewordstenthousandtimes,butBrandonwillneveractuallyhearthem.Hecan't

becausesomethingsjustcan'tbreakthroughthatdarkness.

Icontinuetosweepmyfingersthroughhisthickhairuntilhisbreathsevenoutandhistensemuscles

relax. And here I lie, holding onto someone I'm so terribly afraid I'll lose, and somewhere within my
worry,Imanagetodriftofftosleep.

LUNGS

ARE

BURNING

CAN

BREATHE

CAN

DRAW

BREATH

EYES

POP

OPEN

UNABLE

FOCUS

clawatthehandsviolentlycrushingmyneck.It'sdark.Ican'tsee.Ican'tfocus.Igaspandgasp,arching
mybackfromthebedandkicking,swattingmyhandatwhateveritispressingonmythroat.Spotsdotmy
vision,andthen,suddenly,thepressureisgoneandIdragindesperatelungfulsofairasIthrowmyself
fromthebed,stumblingtothefloor.

"Ohgod,"Brandonwhispers.Iseehimonthebed,staringathishands.“I…”Thrustingbothhands

intohishair,hedoublesover,abrokencryleavinghislips."Fuck!"

I'mshakingsobadthatwhenItrytostand,Inearlycollapse.Igrabmyjeansfromthefloorandpull

themon,fightingthetears.Fightingeverythinginsideofmethatistellingmetorunawayfromhim.

"Poppy..."
"It'sfine."Iglanceupathimandnod."It'sfine.I'mokay.I'mjustgoingto..."Iwalkaroundtheedgeof

the bed and stop. Mort comes rubbing up against my leg. "I'm just going to go stay with Hope. It's fine
though."Iwalkoutoftheroom,grabmypurse,andruntothedoor,closingitbehindme.

It'snotuntilIgettotheentranceofthesubwaystationthatIcallHope.Andit'snotuntilshethrows

her arms around me that I completely breakdown. I want to be strong for him, but everyone has their
breakingpoint.

ChapterFortyFive

BRANDON

“SaySomething”–AGreatBigWorld

HEAR

THE

FRONT

DOOR

WITH

RESOUNDING

CLICK

GONE

LEFT

NEARLY

KILLED

HER

That dream was so fucking vivid, and it was Connor—Connor was the enemy. I was choking him,

chokingher.Ibitebackthestrangledsoundslippingfrommythroat.Iwouldneverhurtthem.Theyarethe
twopeopleinthisworldIwouldneverhurt,andyet,Idid.I'mnolongerlivingwithamonster.Iamthe
monster.

Andofallthethingsshecouldhavesaidtome—it'sfine.Howisthisfine?Iamdestroyingher,piece

bypiece.Andit'skillingme.She'stheonlygoodinmylife,andwhathappenswhenIextinguishher?I
can'tdoit,nottoher.Butshe'llneverletmegobecauseshe'sPoppy.Shelovestoohardandshewon't
giveup.Shewillshredlittlebitsofhersoulifshethinksshe'ssavingmine.ButIcan'tdothisanymore.
I'mfuckingtired.Everydayisabattle,andsheistheonlythingI'mfightingforanymore.Ilovehermore
thananyone—evenConnor.Ihavetosaveherfromthispurgatory.OnlyIcansetusbothfree.

Igotothekitchen,rummagingthroughthejunkdrawer.Carkeys,nailpolish,anoldbirthdaycard.My

fingersbrushagainstthesmoothglassofmypipe.Igrabit,thelittlebaggierubberbandedtoit,and

Igotothelivingroomtotakeaseatonthesofa.MortclimbsontomylapasIunrollthebagandpack

alargebowl.Hesniffsitandtakesastepback.Lightingit,Iinhale,holdingthesmokedeepinmylungs.I
needthecalmtofindtheresolveIneed.SoIstrokeMortandIsmokeuntiltheearlymorningraysstartto
creepthroughthelivingroomwindow.Andthen,Igetupandtakethepenandnotepadfromthekitchen.

There'sanoteonitthatPoppywrotetomeafewdaysagowhenshewentinearlyforhernightshift.

Iloveyou.It’salways,alwaysbeenyou.X

Iswallowheavilyandflipthepageover,thecrispuntouchedpaperstaringbackatme,andIstartwriting.

Possum,

I'msorry.
IhavelovedyouforaslongasIcanremember.Andastimehasgoneon,I'veonlyfallen

moreinlovewithyou.Youaremyworld.

AndIknowyouloveme,whichiswhyyouwillforgivemeanything.But,poss,somethings

shouldn'tbeforgiven.

Idon'tknowhowtowalkawayfromyoubecauseIcan'tsurvivewithoutyou.ButIwould

sacrificeeverythingtokeepyousafe.IfeellikeIhavebeenfightingawarforsolong,andI
justwantittostop.IjustwantthatsenseofpeaceIfindwhenIkissyou,theserenitythatyour
touchbrings.Iliveforthosesinglemoments,poss.ButIknowyoucannotsurviveme.Youcan't
survivethisthingthatlivesinsideme.AndIwon'tletithaveyou.

Youaretheonlypeaceinmyownpersonalwar.
Iloveyou.It’salwaysbeenyou.
Neverforgetthat.
Brandon.

Iinhaleanotherdragoffthepipe,allowingthesmoketoburnmylungs.AndIwaituntilIknowPoppy
will be up. I just need to hear her voice before I let her go. I dial Poppy's number and wait anxiously,
hopingthatshepicksup.Ineedhertofuckingpickup.

Itringsandthenthelineclicks.There'sabeatofsilencebeforeherraspyvoicecomesovertheline.

"Hey,babe."

Iswallowaroundthelumpthat'ssittinginmythroat,threateningtochokeme."Hey,possum,"Ireply.

"Howareyou?"

"Good,you?"
I'm so far from okay. I hate that I've done this to her, but right now, I don't want to hash over my

bullshit."I'msosorry,"Isay.

"Iknow."Shetakesadeepbreath."Iwasthinkingaboutmakingtacostonight."
ThisiswhyIhavetodothis,becauseshe'sjustsofuckinggood,andshewilltakeitandtakeituntil

thereisnothinglefttogive.Shepretendsnothinghappenedandwhy?Becauseshewasunluckyenoughto
fallinlovewithme."Thatsoundsgreat,"Iwhisper.

"Brandon,Iloveyou."
"AndIloveyou,poss,always."
"I'llseeyouwhenIgethome."
"Okay."
ShehangsupandIclosemyeyes,clenchingthephonetightlyinmyhandforafewsecondsbeforeI

sendatexttoFinn.

Hey,fancygoingtothegym?

Heresponds:Sure

Meetmeatmine?

Bethereinhalfanhour.

Andthereitis:halfanhour.Ithastobenow.IthastobeFinnandnotPoppy.

Igetupandtidyawaythefewdishesinthekitchen.Morthopsuponthecounterandmeows.“Oh,

Mort, come on.” I pick him up and take him to the bedroom along with his litter box and water bowl,
closingthedoorwhenIleavetheroomsohecan'tgetout.Ifumblealongthehallway,goingintothespare
bedroomthatIuseasagymandstaringattheheavybaghangingfromtheceiling.Iwrapmyarmsaround
it, lifting it off the hook and laying it on the floor beneath the window. Shit. The door. I go back to the
living area and open the front door, leaving it just a tiny bit ajar. And then I go through the motions,
grabbingachair,theTRXstrap.Tyingandfasteningeverythingwhereitbelongs.Onceit'salldoneandI

standholdingthestrap,Iclosemyeyesforasecond.Thedeepestsenseofsadnesswashesoverme—not
forwhatI'mabouttodo,butforPoppy.

IwishIwasbetter.IwishIcouldbethepersontomakeherhappy,butIneverwillandwebothknow

it.We'rebothjusttoodesperatetoadmitit.

Ilooptheendofthestraparoundmyneckandsitdown,pullingittightenoughthatI'mbarelyableto

remainseated.Closingmyeyes,Ileanforwarduntiltheknotslipsandthestraptightensaroundmythroat.
Myairwayconstricts.Everyinstinctinmybodytellsmetostandup,tosurvive,butIcan't.Ijustwantit
toend.Iwantthisturmoiltostop.AndmostofallIwanthertofindpeace.SoIstayhereuntilmylungs
burnandscream,untilmyheadspinsandmyheartpoundsdesperatelyinmychest.Ipushitallaway:my
body'sfranticpleas,it'sfundamentalneedforair.AndIthinkofher.IrememberthefirsttimeIsawher,
justtenyearsoldandeventhenIknewshewasgoingtoturnmyworldupsidedown.

Everythingburns.Aweaknesscoursesthroughme,asmyheartbeatsgrowerraticandskipasIwait

for that nothingness that holds the promise of so much peace. I just think of her...my head swims and I
struggletoseeherinmymind...PoppyTurnerwillforeverbethegirlthatruinedmeforallothers...my
headfeelssoheavyandIgaspforairthatwon'tcome...andifit’spossible,IknowI’llloveherevenin
death.

Acoldnumbnessfallsovermelikeaveiland,justaseverythingfades,IseePoppy’sface,hersmile,

andthatpeaceI’vebeenchasingforsolongenvelopsmeinitswarm,soothingembrace.

Epilogue

POPPY

“FieldsofGold”–EvaCassidy

HEN

INN

SHOWED

WORK

AND

TOLD

FOUND

RANDON

THE

WORLD

FOR

THE

BRIEFEST

moments,stoppedspinning.AndIamcertainofthat,becausemygrief,mylosswasthatgreat.Partofme
diedwithhim.

I’veavoidedcominghereforsolongbecauseit’sjusttoohard,buttoday,Ihadtocome,eventhoughI

knowhe’snothere,Ijustneedsomewheretogo,thinkinghemaysomehowhearme.

ThedrygrasscrunchesbeneathmyshoesasIweavebetweenthetombstones.It’ssuchaprettyday.

Blue skies. No clouds. And quiet…I swallow, cradling Patrick as he wiggles in my arms, a whimper
escapinghislittle,pinklips.IwraptheblanketaroundhimasIkneelbesideBrandon’sgrave,dustingthe
oldgrassclippingsfromtheheadstone.Itakeadeepbreath,mychestgrowingsotight.

“Helooksjustlikeyou,Brandon,”Isay.“Hereallydoes.”
Silence falls so heavy around me as I stare at his name. His birthdate. Date of death. Eight months

later,andit’sstillnotrealbecausehewasalwaysthere.Andmaybethat’swhyI’minsuchdenialbecause
suchavitalpartofmyheartbelongstohimandmysoulrefusestoacknowledgeheisgone.Iglancedown
atPatrickandhelookssopeaceful,histinyeyesclosed.Hehasnoideathesignificanceofthismoment:
themomentIintroducehimtohisfather.

“Brandon…”Itakeanunsteadybreath.“ThisisPatrick.”MythroatburnsandIclosemyeyesfora

moment.“YourlittleboythatIhopeisjustlikeyou…”

IglancedownathisinnocenceandIhatethis.IhatethathewillneverknowwhatBrandon’svoiceor

hislaughsoundslike.IhatethatthelifeIimaginedsinceIwastenyearsoldisimpossiblenow,andonly
becauseBrandonisgone.ButwhatIkeepremindingmyselfisthatforamoment,foraflickerintime…
wehadit.Wehadthatdream.Ihadmydream...

I trace my fingers over the plaque. Over the name I so many times wrote on notebooks and diaries,

swooningandwishinghe’dloveme.

“Iwishyouwerestillhere…”Iwhisper.“Iknowyousetyourselffree.”
Hewasinsuchadarkplace,alreadyhalf-dead.IrememberhowtorturedhelookedandhowItriedto

understandhim,helphim,lovehim,butlovedoesnotconquerall.

“Brandon,”IholdPatrickalittlecloserandhenuzzlesagainstmychest,“ifdeathistheonlyplace

youcouldfindpeace,theonlyplaceyoucouldfindawaytorest—Idon’tblameyou.Ihopeyoufound
yourpeace.ButIwillforevermissyou.”IglancedowntoPatrickthroughthetearsbuildinginmyeyes.
“Wewillforevermissyou.”

BrandonO’Kieffewasaonceinalifetimeexperience,andthereisnothing—nothing,thatwouldever

make me walk away from that because when I am ninety years old, I will still hold him in my heart,
knowingthatIwasluckyenoughtohavefeltalovemostpeopleneverexperience.Ihadsomeonewhose
verysoulwasintertwinedwithmine.Andwhenit’sallsaidanddone,itdoesn’tmatterhowlongyouhad
theperson,justthatyouhadthem.So,I’llbelievethatwhenwediewejuststartover,andthatIwillfind
himinthenextlife,becauseIbelieveourloveisonethatspanseternity.Onethatdeservesmoretime…in
anotherlife…

Ishiftthebabyinmyarmsandbringmyfingerstomylips,pressingakisstothembeforeIplacemy

handonhisgrave.

Ifitweren'tforPatrick,I'mnotsureIcouldhavegoneonwithouthim.KnowingapartofBrandon

wasinsideofme,itgavemereason.Hegavemereason.

“Yousavedmemyentirelife,Brandonandevenindeathyou'restillsavingme.”Mybreathecatches

inmylungsasanalltoofamiliarpaincapturesmyheart.“Thisisn'tgoodbye,onlyseeyoulater.”

TheEnd

20.T

HAT

THE

ESTIMATED

NUMBER

VETERANS

WHO

TAKE

THEIR

OWN

LIVES

EVERY

SINGLE

DAY

THE

NITED

Statesalone.(USDepartmentofVeteran’sAffairs,2016).

Thosearenotsimplynumbers;thoseare20peoplewhoarelovedandneeded.20peoplewhoarelost

eachday,foreverchangingthelivesofthosetheyleavebehind.

To the men and women who have so selflessly defended our countries, thank you. We will always

remember.

Acknowledgments

Therearealwayssomanypeopletothankwhenitcomestopublishingabook.So,hereitgoes.

ThanksyoutoMarisa-RoseShorofCoverMeDarling.Welovethiscover,anditreallyisperfectfor

PoppyandBrandon.

KimberleyFoster-Holm,thankyouforproofreadingandmakingourwordsallsqueakyclean.
LeighStone,thankyouforyourprettyformatting.
Wehavetogiveamassiveshoutouttoourbetareaders,KerryFletcher,JenLumandCaraGadero.

Youguyswererighttherewithus,sobbingandsnotting.Youmeantheworldtous.

ChristinaMcCormickFranco,yourinputmeantsomuchwiththisbook.Yourreallifeexperienceof

livingwithPTSDmadeyoutheperfectpersontoreadthisforus.Thankyousomuch.

KylieandGiveMeBooks,yougirlsarejustfab,andweloveyou.
Therearesomanyblogswhopostandreviewforus,andwearesogratefulthatyoutakethetimeto

helpuspromoteourwork.Therearefartoomanyblogstomention,butwemustgiveaspecialshoutout
to Schmexy Girls and Totally Booked. You girls have gone above and beyond to help us and we
appreciateitsomuch.Wecanneverthankyouallenough!

JenM,thankyousomuchforyoursupport,help,andmostofallfriendship.
Andtoourreaders:Youareamazing.Weloveyou.Thankyouforbeingyouandreadingourwords.

WanttoreadHopeandFinn'sstory?

Pre-order

WarHope .WarSe rie s:BookTwo.

Document Outline

Copyright
Dedication
Playlist
Also from Nicole Lynne
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty One
Chapter Forty Two
Chapter Forty Three
Chapter Forty Four
Chapter Forty Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also from Nicole Lynne

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