I sat on the porch in a numb haze. My fingers tracing random patterns over the

gun lying in my lap. Behind me, Kayden talked to someone on his cell, his

words sliding over me without meaning. He’d been talking for a while.

There were things I needed to do, questions I needed to ask. Yet I didn’t move. The emptiness carving deep gouges on my heart and soul, laid new

wounds over old scars. Eventually grief would come and dull the ragged edges.

Maybe.

I’d been here once before, years ago. The night my foster parents were killed

by a drunk driver. Then, I had Kelsey to hold on to as our world tore apart. Now,

I wondered if I’d find my way out or just drown in this deafening quiet.

My entire family was gone.

A vehicle barreled into the driveway.

I closed my eyes in a futile wish. Maybe, if I made enough deals with

whoever upstairs was listening, I could open my eyes…

The dull thump of a car door slamming shut was followed by the sound of cautiously approaching footsteps.

…and find…

“Cyn?”

Familiar and deep, it wasn’t the voice I had been wishing for, and it left searing, unrealistic disappointment in its wake. I opened my eyes.

It took effort to look away from the gun and focus on the person crouched in

front of me. Tall and lanky, with dirt-blond hair no comb could tame, Tag stared

back, his compassion obvious.

The need to connect to someone familiar overrode past hurts busy huddling

behind my grief. I swallowed, and then reached for my voice, “Hey, Hayseed.”

His nickname came out dull, but it didn’t stop him from reaching out to cover my restless fingers, stilling them against the warm surface of my gun.

“Hey, you.”

Leave it to Tag not to ask me the totally inane question of how I was doing.

It was painfully obvious.

“Kelsey’s dead.” Saying the words out loud made them real, cracking the

barrier holding my emotions back. Tears threatened, but crying was pointless.

Kelsey was gone.

My sister had been brutally ripped from my world, leaving behind a wound

so raw and bitter, I didn’t think I’d ever recover. No matter what I chose to do

from here, I would never make up for the fact her death could be laid indirectly

at my feet. “Make me understand.” Half plea, half accusation.

“I can’t.” Two words. One lie.

I searched Tag’s face. Under his compassion lay a wary watchfulness, a clear

sign he expected me to break, as if it was a forgone conclusion. His look morphed my helplessness to fury, and it seared through my veins chasing out the

numbness. My fingers curled around my gun, and I yanked my hands out from

under his. “Can’t or won’t?”

He didn’t answer, instead he recaptured my hands. His touch sent a small jolt

of static electricity zinging along my skin. It almost made me miss his flash of

quickly squashed guilt.

Almost.

“You bastard,” I hissed, a sickening sense of certainty crashing through me.

He knew something, something he didn’t want to share. He was going to screw

me again. I scrambled to my feet, knocking him away. “My sister is dead! You

don’t get to shut me out!”

“It’s not my decision, you know that.” He remained crouched in front of me.

Somewhere behind me Kayden must have made a move because Tag signaled

him to hold.

“No, I don’t.” I stood there, shaking with the force of my raging emotions as the past and the present collided, boiling into an incandescent storm.