I love you.

  Sisters till the end,

  Hunter

  14

  THEO

  Mom snores softly next to me. Each exhale sounds like it might be her last. Even though she's hooked up to monitors that will tell us if something is wrong, I can't let myself relax. Her nurse, Rosalyn, told me she's been breathing like that every night for the past week. It hurts to see. Every inhale looks like it takes too much effort, and every exhale makes her fragile frame shake.

  Rosalyn comes back into the room with a glass of water. She sits in her chair and adjusts her reading light as she looks over her textbook.

  She seems like a nice woman. At least James got Mom a competent, nice nurse. It would have been more like the asshole to hire someone who would purposefully finish Mom off, but I guess that would have brought too much attention.

  Although, it would have made a good cover for James. I need to look into Rosalyn's background more.

  "How long have you been a nurse for, Rosalyn?" I ask.

  "Almost two years. I'm in school to finish up my bachelor's," Rosalyn says. Quiet enough not to wake Mom, but loud enough that I can hear her over all the fancy, necessary equipment.

  "So, you've worked with a lot of people like my mom then?"

  Rosalyn smiles sadly. "Well, there's no one like your mom, Theo."

  I know she's trying to be nice, but it frustrates me. And tells me how serious things are really getting for Mom. Gone are the days where people won't beat around the bush. Now, everything is softened. Because the news won't be mixed in with good stuff like it used to be.

  "How much longer do you think she has left?"

  The company we're going through says that they try to sustain maximum comfort for as long as possible, but no one defines how long. The way Mom is breathing, it looks like she doesn't have much time left. Even if she did, I would probably wish that she didn't. If breathing takes that much effort and looks that difficult, I'm sure she's in a lot of pain she's not letting on about. Mom has always been the suffer in silence type. I guess that's something I got from her. And Eddie too.

  Rosalyn bites her lip. She doesn't want to be honest with me. "Well, you know there's no way to really tell that."

  "A couple months? A month? A couple weeks? What do you think?"

  Rosalyn's eyes widen at my hard voice. I regret it only partially. I don't want to scare her and be an asshole. Which is also new for me. A couple of weeks ago, I couldn't have given less of a shit about being an asshole and scaring people. In fact, I preferred it that way. It's easier to be angry and hate pretty everyone and everything than to be all soft.

  Eddie was soft, and look at where that got him.

  Rosalyn still doesn't give me a straight answer. "She's still fighting, but she won't be able to fight for forever. This is kind of it, Theo. I'm sure you know that, though."

  Rosalyn's right. I do know all of that. But it hits differently with her saying it. I don't say anything for a minute. Rosalyn as I watch as Mom's chest struggles to rise and fall. She gets stuck on an inhale, and her small body jerks on the air mattress. Even with all of the heavy drugs she's on, I can still tell that she's in pain. Her face crinkles up in a way I've seen her do hundreds of times over the years.

  Rosalyn adjusts the oxygen flowing through Mom's nasal canula. After a couple of moments, Mom gets a good deep breath in, and she relaxes again.

  "Can I be honest with you, Theodore?"

  I nod once.

  "I know that your mom wouldn't want you to see her like this. I don't think Amelia would feel like I'm overstepping my bounds by telling you this because we've discussed it quite a few times. Your mom worries about you, Theodore. I don't think your mom wants you to have your mind full of sad, painful memories of her."

  Clearly, she's talking about shit like what I just saw. Since it's last in the day, I'm not as strong at controlling my face as I usually am. I'm sure that Rosalyn saw every ounce of pain on my features as I just watched Mom struggle to do something so basic like breathing.

  "I don't want to leave her side," I admit. "I'm running out of time. I want to make the most of that time."

  If losing Eddie taught me one thing, it's that you never know when the clock runs out for your favorite people. Mom's had a ticking time bomb on her for almost as long as I can remember.

  Rosalyn nods. I hate how soft and sad her eyes are. "I understand that. Of course, you can stay for as long as you want, but your mom needs her rest too. Things take a lot more out of her than they used to. And do you want to know the thing she worries about most, Theo?"

  "Hm?"

  "She worries about you being unhappy forever. You've gone through so much, and she has too. Your dad. Edward. Your mom and her illness. Your mom cries daily about how much she's worried for you. She doesn't want you to break down like you did after Edward. She prays for that every day."

  It makes me angry. Furious, in fact. How dare Rosalyn say it like it's an easy thing. I know that she's just repeating what Mom said, which pisses me off even more. Like there will be anything left to the live for with all of my family dead.

  Rosalyn must see the anger on my face because she quickly backtracks. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just thought it might be good for you to know some of the concerns that your mother has shared with me. I care about your mom a lot, Theo. And I know how much she worries for you."

  I know that it's not her that I'm angry at. She's just the only target that's awake and well enough to get some of my ugly expressions.

  Most of all, I hate that she's right. Sitting here and watching my mother struggle to breathe is only hurting. Mom is hooked up to the best of what money can buy. I watched Rosalyn give her her meds, so even though it's hard for her to breathe, she should be in a deep, pain-free sleep. And besides, Rosalyn will be here. She would call me right away if anything went wrong.

  My phone vibrating against my leg snaps me away from staring at Mom.

  Unknown number.

  Usually, I would just ignore and block the number, but something compels me to answer it.

  "I'll give you some privacy," Rosalyn murmurs, patting my shoulder as she quietly steps out of the room.

  I accept the call, prepared to hear the annoying bleat of a telemarketer's voice. However, I am met with the sounds of sobs and strangled gasps for air. Something clenches in my chest. I just know it's Sophia.

  "Sophia? What's wrong?" I demand.

  I back away from Mom. I don't want to wake her up. In the back corner of the room, there's a picture of Mom and Eddie from almost a decade ago. Both of them looking healthy and happy.

  "Hey," Sophia cries, her voice thick with tears.

  Immediately, I want to know where she is. What's happened. Who's hurt her. I think of how quickly I could get to her on my motorcycle. It wouldn't take long. I could be to her in less than twenty minutes.

  "What happened?" I snap.

  I need to know. I need to know who I'm going to murder.

  You're crazy, a small voice tells me in the back of my mind. I know that it's right. I shouldn't feel this crazy, overwhelming urge to protect her. I barely know her, and things aren't like that between us. Things will never be like that between another person and me. But like the other crazy feelings and thoughts I've had for Sophia, this one is just as persistent.

  "Sorry to call so late," Sophia chokes out. She tries to muffle her cry, but I hear it just as clearly.

  "It's fine. What's going on? Talk to me."

  I listen to her sputtering cries as I look over to my mother. Even though I didn't want to follow Rosalyn's advice, I will if Sophia needs me.

  "I know this is probably so stupid. I don't know you, and you don't know me. But I thought that you would be the only person who could get it. It's just…," she trails off again, crying harder.

  "Are you at home?" I head for the doors to Mom's room.

  I nod to Rosalyn as I head out, and she shoots me a small smile before retaking her place near Mom's bed. I take one last look at Mom. She's breathing. None of her monitors are beeping. Rosalyn is there. She'll be fine while I go make sure Sophia is okay.

  I swipe my keys off the island and fling my leather jacket over my shoulders. Gunther glares at me but doesn't say anything as I slide back into my black boots. Sophia is still crying on the other end.

  "Are you home?" I grill.

  I don't mean my voice to sound as cold as it does, but it makes Sophia answer instantly. "Yes."

  Good. At least she's not somewhere unsafe.

  "I'll be there in less than twenty. Pack a bag," I order before hanging up.

  I zip my phone into my pocket before picking my bike off James' car. I smirk at the new, long greasy smudge on his door before kicking off and roaring down the driveway. The cool summer air on my face feels amazing as I speed down the road. It's been a long time since I've ridden with a purpose like this. I used to go places, have places I needed to be. Since Eddie, that hasn't been a thing. But now, I race across town towards Sophia.

  15

  SOPHIA

  I'll be there in less than twenty. Pack a bag.

  I lay back against my bed, stunned. At least the surprise of Theo's words has snapped me out of my panic attack. I didn't think he would come over. I don't even know what I thought when I called him. I just felt so lost, so sad. I wanted something, anything to take those feelings and the pain away. I sit with my pain and grief every day, but it was too much at that moment.

  I didn't think that he would answer. I can't believe he didn't hang up when he heard that I was breaking down.

  When Theo put his number in my phone, I thought it was if I ever wanted a late-night hookup. That's what Theodore Fitzergald is known for. I suppose that could still be the case.

  Theo could be pretending to care but really be hoping that it will lead to him being in my pants by the end of the night. However, there was something in his voice that told me differently. He sounded sincere. Genuine. Concerned.

  I jump when my phone starts buzzing on my lap again. Theo.

  My heart hammers unsteadily in my chest. I want to avoid his call, crawl under my covers, and pretend that I was never stupid enough to reach out to Theodore Fitzgerald in a moment of weakness.

  I wait so long staring at the call that it goes to voicemail. It starts ringing again. I know that Theo won't let it go, so I pick up my phone.

  "You ready to go?" Theo asks, his voice gruff. My heart races faster.

  "You're really here?"

  I sound stupid, but I don't believe him. We don't know each other like that. Why would he abandon whatever he was doing tonight to come and get me?

  "Yep. Bring your bag and come outside."

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see."

  Before I can ask another question, Theo hangs up. When I hear the faint roar of his motorcycle outside, I realize that he's serious. Theo really is out there, and he's set on taking me somewhere.

  Clearly, I didn't think this through.

  Sophia Vincent does not get on the back of Theodore Fitzgerald's motorcycle, especially at this time of night. My parents would have a heart attack if they knew I was actually considering sneaking out and riding away in the night to who knows where with Theo. But the thought of why I called him in the first place propels me off my feet and hurriedly throwing things into a backpack.

  The loneliness. The loss. The heartbreak. The feelings. The heaviness of it all. That's why I called Theo, and that is what confirms my decision to do the stupid, irresponsible thing of quietly creeping through my silent house and out my front door.

  The cool summer air makes me shiver as I lock the door behind me. When I turn to look at the end of my driveway, Theo is there perched on his motorcycle. He's dressed in a plain black t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and black boots. His ink stands out in the moonlight. Looking at him sets my stomach on fire.

  I walk over to him slowly. Theo gestures to the back of his bike, and I adjust his helmet around my head. Neither of us says anything as I hop on behind him, and he kicks off my driveway. We fly away from my house, roaring down the road so fast that it takes my breath away.

  Once we are off my smaller street, Theo makes us go even faster. My stomach catches in my throat. It is a bit uncomfortable at first, but then it's exhilarating. Exciting. A high I've never felt before. Everything on my mind takes a backseat as thoughts of how good and addicting this feels.

  After fifteen minutes of speeding, we are in the heart of the bigger city next door. The buildings are taller here, and there are more cars and people. Theo slows and easily maneuvers us through traffic, which is surprisingly a lot for a weeknight. I lean back from Theo's neck a couple of inches and take in all of the sights and the lights.

  "Where are we going?" I shout when we are stopped at a light.

  "My apartment," Theo answers, right before the light turns green.

  My stomach flips nervously, and not just from us riding again. Theo's apartment? That confirms what I thought he was trying to do. This is just to get in my pants. Theo just wanting that while I'm already vulnerable and hurting makes me want to throw up and punch him.

  Theo slows on a side street. We must be getting close to his apartment. We go about halfway down the road before he pulls over to the curb and turns his bike off.

  Theo climbs off and offers a hand to me. It reminds me of when he dropped me off at home earlier, but now, I know what his true intentions are. I refuse his hand.

  "Let's go," Theo says, jerking his thumb at the tall building behind him.

  I size it up. It's a nice building. At least fifteen levels, the tallest that I've seen in the city. Probably sky-high rents. Which just reminds me how Theo is used to getting everything he wants. He's a rich, bad boy. He's used to girls fawning all over him and getting whoever he wants in bed with a snap of his fingers.

  What's worse is that I am the reason I'm in this situation. I reached out to him. Theo's probably giving himself an internal high-five at my patheticness and adding me to his body count.

  Or so he thinks.

  "I'm not going to sleep with you," I snap. I'm still on the motorcycle. I'm furious.

  I thought that Theo would understand. I thought he would be a safe person to talk about Hunter with. But now, I can see him for what he really is. A heartless, rich prick. Like everyone's said all along.

  Theo scoffs. "Trust me, that's not on the agenda."

  He rolls his eyes as if he thinks I'm crazy. I flush so hard I feel hot all over my body.

  Guess that's just another thing in the books for me making a fool out of myself in front of Theodore Fitzgerald.

  "Come on, let's go," Theo says, holding out his hand again.

  This time, I take it. I swing my leg over the bike and tuck Theo's helmet under my arm as he leads me inside the building.

  The lobby is warm and bright. Classy decorations that scream money are everywhere. A man dressed in an elegant suit behind the tall, granite front desk nods at us politely. Theo tips his head at the man as he leads us to the glossy stainless steel elevators along the back wall.

  Inside, the elevator feels straight out of a movie—a rich movie. The floor tiles are glossy and made of the same material as the front desk. A warm light hangs above us; it damn near looks like a chandelier. All of the buttons are lettered with a fancy black font that I've never seen in any of the plain elevators back in my own town. As the door closes behind us, Theo presses the button at the top of the stack. Floor fifteen. Of course, he lives on the top floor. Theo and I lean against the walls in silence.

  The realization of what I'm doing and the fact that I'm here starts sinking in with me. What am I doing here? I should have just continued breaking down like I always do. Alone. Empty. I would have pulled myself together the next morning regardless. Like I always do. Why was I stupid enough to dial Theo's number?

  The elevator climbs quickly and dings before opening on the tallest floor. Theo slips his fingers through mine as he leads me out of the elevator. He takes me to the right and doesn't stop until we are in front of the last door. He fishes for his keys in his dark jeans. I overlook the window that's right next to his door. It overlooks the city, and of course, it's a fantastic view. Up here, everything looks so small. I imagine coming up here feels like escaping the world and all of its problems.

  Theo swings his door open and pulls me into his apartment behind him. He flips the light switch on the wall. Instead of normal toned lights, Theo has his own customizable lights wired in. They are a deep red color, soothing and sultry. My eyes adjust to the dim lighting as I slip my boots off next to Theo.

  It's a large, one-bedroom apartment. Everything smells overwhelmingly like Theo -- leathery and masculine. Although, I'm not complaining.

  There is a plush-looking black L-shaped couch, a large flat-screen TV, and a simple black coffee table to the right. The kitchen has dark wood cabinets that match the dark hardwood flooring that goes throughout the entire apartment. A small, four-seat table takes up most of the kitchen. Hanging on the back of all the chairs, there is either a leather jacket or a denim jacket.

  A shoe rack comes up to my hips to the left of us in the entryway, filled with Doc Martens, expensive-looking black sneakers, and various other boots. Posters of various bands cover the walls. I would never admit it, but Theo has good taste.

  Best of all, in the corner, off to the living room, there is a grand piano. It catches my heart. It's the most beautiful piano I've seen outside of a museum. My fingers ache to trace over the keys, but of course, I don't. I don't want to make more of a fool out of myself than I already have.

  "You can put your shoes on the rack," Theo says, snapping me out of admiring his apartment.

  Theo slips out of his own black boots and pads over to the kitchen. It feels weird seeing him without his boots on. I've gotten so accustomed to seeing him in leather, black tees, and thick boots that I never imagined him without either of the three.

  Theo pours himself a glass of dark liquor from the cabinet. "You want something?" he asks.

 

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