eyes full of more goodness than I deserve. I can’t have that goodness. I shouldn’t even stand this close. Mia deserves more than a fuck-up, more than this ugliness I’ll never escape, and yet—“Death would be easier.”—I step closer. “I lie here and think about you on the other side of my wall. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to leave you to sleep alone in that bed? I want to climb in beside you.”
In the back of my mind, I hear my counselor from rehab. Don’t expect more from your willpower than it can handle. You’re human. You have weaknesses. Stay away from the things you crave, and you’ll never have to be stronger than those weaknesses.
Drugs were never my weakness. But Mia . . .
Her tongue darts out, leaving her bottom lip wet. I take another step forward and skim my knuckles against her waistband. “I want to slip my hand into these fucking mind-scrambling cotton shorts you sleep in and remind you that you’re still alive.”
“Arrow.” She breathes in my name like it’s air, and I want to be closer so she can breathe in all of me. I’d give her my last breath if it would fix this.
“I want to take off your clothes.” I grab a fistful of her shirt, then release it. Now that I’ve started, it’s like I can’t stop. “I want to spread your legs and see if being inside you could possibly be as incredible as I remember.”
She draws in a ragged breath and lifts her arms to the side. “Then do it.”
I flinch. She offers her body while her mind is full of sadness. “I can’t,” I say. “Because more than any of that”—I swallow hard—“I want to be worthy of half the attention you give a dead man.” But I’m not.
I step back, and she grabs my shirt in her fist before I can retreat another step. “Don’t,” she says.
“Mia . . .”
“Don’t say things like that to me and then walk away.”
“I shouldn’t say things like that at all. We both know it.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, drawing in her sweet scent, leaning into her heat. “And I have to walk away. Just like I should have that night at the lake.”
She releases my shirt. “You are worthy,” she says, and rushes from the room.
You are worthy. I hold my breath because out of Mia’s mouth, the words feel true, and I want to cling to that feeling as long as I can.
Mia
“Where are your books?”
Bailey plops down on the couch next to me and leans her head against my shoulder. We used to sit like this all the time. For one semester, I kind of felt like a normal college student, living in this apartment with Bailey, attending classes at Terrace, going out with Brogan. But death is expensive, and any emergency fund I had was drained by Nic’s funeral, and then there was the issue of tending to Dad. The day after we buried my brother, Dad’s lights were turned off for nonpayment, and I found out he hadn’t paid rent on the trailer lot in almost a year.
I had to move out, and Bailey had to get a roommate who wasn’t panicked by the prospect of rent and utilities.
Bailey sighs. “I lied.”
“What?”
“There’s not a test I need help studying for. Finals were last week.”
My stomach sinks. The semester is over. A whole semester since the accident, and I’ve been hiding at the Woodisons’, marking time. Waiting for Brogan to wake up. “I should have known that, huh?”
“You have a few things going on.” She gives me a tentative smile. “I just wanted to see you, and the only way you make time for me is if you think you’re helping me out.”
I flinch. “Am I that bad?”
She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I worry about you. You look more stressed than usual. What’s up?”
That’s a loaded question. What’s up is that I slept in Arrow’s arms last night. What’s up is that I can’t stop thinking about him since he told me he wants me. What’s up is that I offered myself to him, and he sent me away.
“Do you ever think about who was driving the car?” I ask. I don’t have to explain what car or when. The accident never strays far from either of our minds.
“I don’t believe Nic was dealing again,” she says. “It’s bullshit. And even if some of