“I’ll call you,” he said lamely, just in case it wasn’t obvious. He wouldn’t last ten minutes without needing to hear her voice.

“You’d better.”

He opened the back door for her, watched as she got in and buckled up. He told Samantha to drive safe. Macy’s gaze met his as he shut the door; he didn’t break the connection as the car pulled away, even as it drove down the street and he couldn’t actually see her anymore.

Then they turned the corner, and she was gone.

He didn’t go back in Stephanie’s house. There wasn’t anything for him in there right now. He’d be a comfort to his sister and her family once that bastard wasn’t under her roof, but right now, there was little short of a fire that could make him share oxygen with Scott.

Bad enough they had to share DNA. And a face. Macy had asked if he was trying to be different from his brother, and he wasn’t—they’d always been like night and day. They hadn’t shared any of the same interests except in one huge, glaring example…it wasn’t enough to have the same taste in women; no, they had to have the same woman.

Macy had said it all. Fuck him. And f**k Brooke too.

It was too beautiful a day for this much gloom. He made the drive to the hospital on autopilot, bracing himself the whole way. The depressing, all-too-familiar smells inside the building turned his stomach, but he steeled himself and trudged on, knowing that the atmosphere was going to get way more f**king familiar in the next few days, weeks…however long it would be.

God, how he wished things could go back to normal again. For himself, for his nana.

The information desk told him where to find her and soon he stood frozen in the door to her room, practically deaf and blind to the bustle of nurses and white-coats in the ICU. It was all he could do to breathe. She looked so frail, almost nonexistent beneath the blankets except for her cap of white hair and the little points where her feet rested under the blankets. What must’ve been a dozen tubes connected her to this machine and that.

He’d really f**ked this up, thrown away his last chance to say good-bye to her, to tell her he loved her and have her hear him.

Dragging a chair to her bedside, he sat heavily and took her thin, tepid hand in his. Was it just yesterday he’d been so stoked to take Macy out on their first real date? It felt like ten years ago. His grandmother would’ve liked her. She also would’ve been able to tell him how to deal with Scott, or if nothing else, she would’ve yanked him in line and told him to quit wasting mental energy on something so worthless. It had broken her heart to see the two of them divided in such a way, but she’d known where to place the blame. Scott hadn’t just hurt Seth, he’d hurt her, he’d hurt all of them. He’d run away like the f**king little weasel coward he was so he wouldn’t have to hear crap from anyone about what a piece of shit he was being.

Hell, maybe Scott had the right idea. Do what you want to do, no matter who you hurt or how much, live your life the way you want and to hell with everyone else. They were all going to end up right where his grandmother was someday, right? Might as well make the most of it, and it seemed to be working out awfully well for that rat bastard. Financially well-off and a baby on the way with the woman who was supposed to be someone else’s wife.

Every time he thought about the nights he and Brooke had lain together and talked about getting married, he wanted to tear walls down with his bare hands, wanted to jump out of his skin because it felt covered in slime from letting himself fall victim to a betrayal like that. It wasn’t so much for what he’d lost—not anymore—but for the fool he’d been. Had she been f**king Scott even then? He didn’t know and he never would. The only minor, infinitesimal satisfaction he had from that entire situation was that he knew he’d been Brooke’s first. Yeah, smoke on that, motherfucker. Not that Scott probably even knew. When was the best time to tell your husband his identical twin brother had popped your cherry? Try never.

The machines beeped and pumped and did whatever they were doing to keep his grandmother alive. At that moment, he was barely hanging in there himself. His mind spun on his current drama to keep from dealing with the reality in front of him.

She was dying. And he couldn’t f**king take it.

The images he’d been deliberately pushing back flashed their way through his turmoil then, and he shuddered, breathing hard through his nose to keep from losing it. Playing hide-and-seek behind the house, listening to the awesome bedtime stories she always told him to put his hyper ass to sleep, her holding him and rocking him and somehow managing to keep it together while he cried and wailed for his parents. She’d lost them too.

Maybe his mom and dad would know how to deal with everything too. But they weren’t here either. They’d gone away, like most everyone else in his life. They weren’t with him in spirit, they weren’t comforting him, and anyone who said otherwise was full of shit. He was alone.

The emotions tore through and ripped him to pieces. He dropped his head to where his hand clutched his grandmother’s and sobbed.

“I know we promised to let you sleep, but I have a question.”

Macy turned from her blind perusal of the passing landscape and met Sam’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I probably won’t be able to sleep until I’m in my bed, anyway. What?”

“We debated this all the way up here.”

“Okay…”

“Is he pierced?”

“Sam!”

Her friends’ mingled laughter was like a balm to her soul. What would she do without them? “I’m just joking,” Sam said. “Sorry. It’s just way too serious around here; I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t.”

“You really are gonna keep it in the vault, aren’t you?”

“Yep. And speaking of vaults, Candace… What has Brian told you about Brooke? Anything?”

“No, nothing really.”

“Wow. Those guys have a blast-proof vault, then.”

“Is he holding out on me? What is it?”

“If Brian hasn’t told you, then I’m sure as hell not going to. I was just curious what you knew.”

“Men and their vaults,” Candace grumbled.

“Hey, we have a vault too,” Sam said. “It’s just that usually, it’s in a centralized location and we all three have keys to it.” She shot Macy a comical glare over her shoulder.

“Not this time. Sorry.”

“Who’s the Brooke chick, though? Clue me in at least a little. I know absolutely nothing.”

“She’s an ex.”

“He still hung up on her?”

“There are some…lingering anger issues. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

“Tear through ’em. She ain’t got nothing on you, babe. Right?”

“At least you’re not blood related to the most prominent ex,” Candace put in. Macy smirked as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse. God, wasn’t that the truth. Brian had dated Candace’s favorite cousin before the two of them hooked up, and it was still a source of contention with Candace’s suffocating family.

She sent a quick text to Seth. They’d been on the road for over an hour; surely by now he’d gotten to the hospital. A feeling that he wasn’t okay churned in her gut, and that more than anything else was keeping her awake.