“You think I went through your things? Screw you.”

I turn to the sink to fill a glass to settle my stomach, but water goes everywhere as my hand shakes. I set it back down on the counter then turn to face him. He’s dropped into a chair and scrubs at his hair, a hesitant, almost frightened look on his face.

“This…this isn’t what it looks like.”

My hands clench. “It looks like you picked me out at that party because of Willow. It looks like you’re with me because I look like her.” I think back to the photo, the eerie resemblance. I want the floor to swallow me whole.

He doesn’t say anything for so long, until I want to scream to get a reaction out of him. “Z, I look like her! Just admit it, please!”

“Yes,” he whispers.

My heart drops as I take that blow. “And you could have told me at any time about the resemblance, but you didn’t. We’ve been together since January and you never told me.”

A thick silence fills the room. He swallows and looks away. “I started to a few times, but it never felt right—”

“You knew how this would end.” I shake my head.

He whitens. “I was going to tell you eventually…”

“When?”

“After hockey…shit, I don’t know. I was afraid to say anything. I didn’t want to screw us up…” He bites his lip, chewing on it.

I laugh harshly and press my hand to my lips. “And this is why Reece doesn’t like me.” I close my eyes then open them when I hear Z scooting the chair back. He approaches me, and I step around him, because if he touches me, I might not be able to think. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

He halts and runs a hand through his hair, pulling on it. “You’re… It’s not like that. You are not her. I want you.”

“So you weren’t thinking about her? Ever? How about ‘I love you. Forever.’ Sound familiar? How about ‘If you were here, my whole life would be different’? You wrote that in a letter one week ago.”

His throat bobs. Good, good. I want him upset. He reaches out to cup my face, but I jerk away. “Stop.”

He sucks in a breath. “Please, whatever you’re thinking, just stop for a minute and let me explain, Sugar.”

I grit my teeth. He can’t see the forest for the trees. He doesn’t see what’s wrong about this. Or he does, but he isn’t ready to admit it. He’s lost, still in love with a dead girl, and I can’t help him.

I move toward the door but his voice stops me, pleading. “Please don’t leave.”

I face him. “You can’t build a relationship on a lie,” I say quietly, regaining some control, because I have to get the words out. I have to. “You’re just like every guy who’s broken my heart, Z. At least with Bennett, it was a girl I could see, but you…you picked someone I can never, ever compare to. You deliberately left me in the dark and now here we are—at the fucking end.”

His face reddens and his hands curl. “No, not the end. I refuse to let you go. Don’t walk out on me, Sugar. Not now, not when I’m already losing my shit. Please.”

“Goodbye, Z.” My voice cracks and I’m out the door and running to my car.

34

Zack

She walks out the door and I don’t follow her. I can’t. I’m shaking and this feeling of despair might just swallow me whole.

Goodbye, Z. Goodbye.

No, no, no. I plop my ass back down on a kitchen chair and take deep breaths, in and out. This can’t be fucking happening.

She can’t leave me now. I care too much.

I need her. I need her. I need her.

I lay my head down on my folded arms on the table and struggle to get a grip, to stop the pull of anguish that wants to drag me under.

A few ticks later, I hear Eric behind me, although I don’t know when he came back into the kitchen. There’s no doubt he heard most of that. I rise up and look at him, watching as he pulls a bottle of Tito’s from the cabinet and pours himself a drink.

“Make me one,” I say, my voice hoarse.

He shoots me a look but fulfills my request and sets the glass in front of me. He takes a seat on the other side of the table, a frown deeply lining his brow.

“Thanks.” I take a sip, feeling the burn.

“Sugar and your dead girlfriend? What the hell?”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “She left.” That’s not the answer to his question, but fuck, I can’t think.

“She did, and…” He pauses. “And I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this. I’m your best friend, but you haven’t said a word about a resemblance.”

I slam back the rest of the vodka, the taste bitter. “When have you known me to talk about my feelings?”

He watches me. “You okay, man?”

No. “Yeah.” I rub my face briskly. “I…just need to…” I can’t even finish it before my chest is heaving and I’m up and pacing around the room.

She walked out so easily.

“You adore Sugar, right?” He sounds a little angry.

I march over to the counter and pour another drink, emptying the bottle. I turn the glass up, embracing the burn. “How much of this shit do we have?” I ask, tossing the empty bottle in the trash.

He snatches another bottle from the cabinet, another brand—not that I care—and puts it down in front of me. “Be careful with this stuff, man. You’re not a drinker and I’m not sure where you are right now.”

I look up at him, and he isn’t done talking.

“You need to do the right thing. Go after her and tell her—”

Anger fires inside me, itching to get out. I slap my hand against the table. “Funny how I’m your best friend but all your interest is in her.”

He exhales. “Dude, chill. You know Sugar and I are just friends.”

“Do I? You flirt with her constantly.” My jaw pops as we have a stare-off. I know I’m blowing up at him for no good reason, but I can’t seem to stop.

Everything is falling apart.

He gives me a nod, as if he’s come to a decision. “If you want to talk, I’ll be in my room.”

He grabs his glass, walks down the hall, and shuts the door.

Standing, I shove away from the table and kick the chair back until it clatters against the wood.

Screw him. He’s upset about the game. The entire team is. Every single player thinks I’ve lost my mojo. Pouring yet another drink, I think back to their rumblings on the bus on the way back, and I know I’m not the captain they deserve. I’m not going to lead HU to a national championship.

My fists clench as I recall the embarrassment of waking up in the locker room with a medic beside me. My heart checked out fine—of course—and I begged to go back out there, but Coach told me to cool my jets in the locker room and “check in with my shrink.” Those were his words. Stan Wilcox was nowhere to be found.

Cursing, I pick up the bottle and stalk out to the deck, slamming the back door behind me.

The air is bitter cold, the ground hard as I pace around, my feet shuffling, my mind trying to come to terms with a new reality.

I won’t ask her to come back. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Because if she says no…

I end up in the garage. I’m staring down at the table we made love on, and my heart clenches in my chest. I set the bottle down on the edge of a tool shelf behind me and pick up a hammer, turning it over in my hands. With one arm, I sweep everything off the table and swing the hammer at it, whacking at nothing. The tool reverberates in my grip, the sound of metal against wood sharp in my ears, but I don’t care. Over and over I work at it, rage eating at me, clawing, until finally the metal head flies off the wooden handle and I jerk to a stop, my eyes moving around the room, wondering what else I can hit.

But what I want to hit isn’t in this garage.

My buzz builds as I take another swig and head back toward the house. I kick open the back door and stalk to Reece’s room. Without asking, I push it open and turn on the lights. His room is a mess, clothes and shoes and hockey gear in every corner. Everything is out of place, protein wrappers, Gatorade bottles, books, and a laptop littering the floor.

Just another way we’re different. My hands clench.

They scuttle up to the pillows when I barge in.

“What the hell? Privacy, please?” Reece says as he sits up, covering up Veronica at the same time.

I stop at the foot of his bed and it’s all I can do to not yell, but somehow I keep my voice calm. “Veronica is not welcome in this house again. She needs to pack her shit and go.”

Reece looks from me to her and bolts out of bed stark naked, shoving his legs into gym shorts. “This is not just your house. It’s half mine.” He glances back down at Veronica, who’s clinging to the top sheet. “She won’t talk to Sugar again.” His eyes come back to me, and I see the knowledge there. Veronica must have told him what happened. “Besides, don’t you think it was time she knew the truth?”