My mom's been lying on the floor for a while now and the man above her is getting angrier and angrier. The television is on and I can see my cartoons from where I'm hiding, but can't hear them.

"Cheryl, wake the f.u.c.k up," the man with the long white hair and grey beard shouts. After he cusses again, he uses his foot to prod at her stomach. Her body moves only enough to rock in response, before falling back in place.

I watch as he walks to the phone that sits near the television and his face scrunches while he dials numbers. He puts it to his ear and waits for the caller to answer. When they do, his voice is raised, rough, and fueled with fury.

"She's out of it. b.i.t.c.h won't wake up. What do you want me to do with her?" He pauses, waiting for instruction, but then his eyes search the room.

He's looking for something.

He's looking for me.

Opening my eyes against the rays of the sun, the first thing I feel is my own heart beating in my chest.

The nightmares are back.

They started when I lost my dad a little over five years ago. He was pumping gas after work and was stabbed in the neck, chest, and back as he waited to finish. It was dark and they had no suspects, so the man who did it was never brought to justice. The robbers took only his watch and wallet. They left the car untouched and where it was sitting. The randomness of the crime made no sense and it took me a long time to accept what had happened.

To this day, I find myself missing him and wishing he were here to walk me through things that most dads do. Even as an adult, there've been times I'm still so desperate for his guidance. Bean was right when she told me I haven't let him go.

He was a good man, my best friend, and he didn't deserve to go out like that.

f.u.c.k, no one does.

The first thing I hear as I start to get out of bed is Sarah's music blaring through the speakers of her iPhone dock as she showers. It's not so much the music that agitates my morning mood so early in the day as it is a few other things.

After Sarah and Ace had their final knock-down drag-out fight and mutually decided it was best for both of them to engage in a temporary but distant time out, I've found that living with Sarah is definitely not how I'd ever have pictured it to be.

It's a f.u.c.k of a lot messier.

Aside from the obvious-that I'm still not over what happened between us after Bean's funeral-living with Sarah is no different than living with a holy f.u.c.king terror.

Her mouth is trash, her personal s.h.i.t is everywhere, and she has no regard for those around her. When she's set and determined on something she wants; whether that be doing her laundry, cooking her meals, or watching her television shows, she pays no mind to anyone else.

Her att.i.tude sucks, her bedroom is a pit, and to kill me slowly and get a reaction, I swear she walks around in less than she should.

She showed up on my doorstep after weeks of awkward silence lingering between us, and told me she and Ace had a falling out. That night Sarah had gotten home late from work and Ace was p.i.s.sed she hadn't called. Although Sarah is nineteen, and her being late shouldn't have mattered, it's what led to the final falling out between them.

When she showed up at my door she had been crying. She told me she didn't know where else to go. As I a.s.sessed her standing alone and broken on my porch, my instinct was to grab her, hold her, and promise her everything would be okay. That I would make it okay. I knew if I did that, however, I would be allowing her an opportunity to get under my skin more than she already was. It took everything I had not to coddle her. Instead, I've pushed back each time she's pulled. We're in a constant back and forth, with neither of us giving an inch.

Ace has called numerous times asking me how she's doing and if she's okay. He won't talk to her directly, so that leaves Rae and me to pa.s.s messages between them.

Ace is never happy. Sarah is never calm. Bean was the only person who could handle them swiftly and now that she's gone it's been f.u.c.king chaos between them.

Knocking on the bathroom door, I wait for Sarah to answer. She's bellowing whatever "cla.s.sic"-as she calls it-Britney Spears song playing.

I knock again, this time using more force to ensure she hears me.

I've got to be at the Ward in less than an hour, so mentally I'm ticking her time in the bathroom away minute by minute.

When the door swings open, I see what I'm used to seeing every other G.o.dd.a.m.n morning. Sarah's tall, athletic, tan body wrapped in a towel and her long, wet, blonde hair dripping water at her feet.

"About done?" I snap, readying for her morning bulls.h.i.t.

"Yep," she answers, opening the door further as the rush of hot air hits my face.

The smell of her body wash ignites my senses and up until this morning, I've tempered my body's reaction to it, but I'm growing tired. My patience is waning.

Sarah won't talk about what happened between us. I've tried to bring it up, indirectly and face to face, but she refuses to acknowledge what we did. The morning after Bean's funeral was the morning I knew Sarah had the ability to live in denial. She denied feeling for me what I felt, and still feel, for her.

Her labeling our time together as a mistake hurt. It crippled me. I had never felt so alone as I did in that moment. I walked out of it with the harsh realization that we'd never be the same again.

"You're giving me a ride, right?" she asks, bending over and offering me an un.o.bstructed view of her a.s.s as she uses another towel to dry her hair.

Stepping just inside the bathroom, I position myself behind her. My morning mood gets better each second I'm near her. When she stands, her back hits my chest and she jumps.

"f.u.c.k, Travis!" she screams, the sound of her voice echoing off the walls, even over her music.

Reaching around her, I turn the music down as she turns to face me. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing?" she asks, further annoyed.

My eyes wander over her body, top to bottom, allowing my body's desire to take her in. She bites her bottom lip nervously.

"Watching you," I answer.

Her nose scrunches as she clings to the knot in the towel for dear life. "Watching me?"

Leaning against the doorframe, in a sense trapping her inside, I tilt my head and stare at her. Any other woman may find this uncomfortable, but not Sarah. She's too crazy.

"Are you giving me a ride or not?"

"I did that already, you didn't enjoy it as much as I did, remember?" I'm an a.s.s for saying this out loud, but it's how I feel and I've started to care less.

Throughout the time she's been living with me, I've let comments slip here and there. They're becoming more pointed and direct, but Sarah never takes the bait.

"Wow," she replies sarcastically. "I work at noon. Are you giving me a ride to The Ward or am I calling Rae?"

The band is practicing this morning before the Ward opens. It's not often we get to play considering the schedules we all have now, but Hayden's been wanting to get us together since Bean died. This morning is the first time everyone could be there.

"Yes, Sarah," I answer, closing my eyes and ignoring the flushed color in her cheeks. The heat from the bathroom smothers us in the small s.p.a.ce.

"Thank you," she replies. "Now, get outta here so I can get dressed."

Opening my eyes, I focus on hers. I can see by the way she shifts from foot to foot I'm making her uncomfortable.

"Guess I'm not invited to help."

"Guess not," she returns, pushing my chest and walking me out the door before slamming it in my face. Slowly trying to kill me.

Once Sarah's out of the bathroom and locked away in her room, I head into the bathroom and do all I can to ignore the mess she's left. Combs, curlers, and hair products that I have no f.u.c.king clue about, have invaded my s.p.a.ce.

"Christ, I don't know if I want to f.u.c.k you or strangle you," I say before getting ready for the day.

"I f.u.c.king heard that!" she screeches from her room.

Slamming the door to the bathroom, I fight the urge to say it again, only this time louder.

"What's up, Trav?" Rae asks, walking in my direction from the bar.

Everyone was already setting up by the time we got there. Sarah made us late.

"Heya, Rae. Where's Ace?"

She looks behind her, then back at me with a puzzled expression. "I swear he was right behind me."

"Probably in the office with Shelby."

She nods while moving to sit on the stage, getting comfortable and shifting her hair into a high ponytail. Her eyes a.s.sess me carefully, and unfortunately, I'm transparent to her.

"What's going on with you?" she asks first. "And don't tell me it's nothing. You've been acting weird for weeks."

"And you're just asking me this now?"

With att.i.tude, Rae replies, "I've been trying to give you s.p.a.ce."

Taking a seat beside her, I hold my plastic bag full of guitar picks in my hand. "Got s.h.i.t on my mind."

"Sarah," she a.s.sumes correctly, but not in the sense she thinks. "Anything else?"

"Rae," I start to tell her, but I'm too nervous to finish.

Rae's my best friend. It doesn't make any sense to those in our group, but she's the one I'm closest to. Rae's overcome a horrific past and in some ways, although I'm not sure why, I relate to that.

"Say what's on your mind," she prods.

Shaking my head, I study the bag, twisting and turning it in my hands. I've never had a real relationship, none worthy of discussion. I'm twenty-seven years old, and although I've slept with a few women in the past, they've meant nothing in comparison to the one who doesn't want me.

"Sarah and I. . . ." I start talking without knowing what I'm going to say, so I stop.

"Trav?" Rae questions after my awkward statement. "Are you and Sarah . . . ?"

"No," I deny, not entirely lying. We aren't what she's thinking. "I worry about her."

"This is nothing new," she says. "Now, tell me something real, Travis," she draws out confidently. "Because you want to. I can tell."

"We're always at each other," I tell her, avoiding what I really want to say. I'm unsure what Rae's reaction would be.

She sighs, tilts her head to the ceiling in thought. "I knew it. She's too much for you, isn't she?"

Not in the way she thinks. "Sarah and I aren't like you and Ace. It's different."

"I used to think as she got older she'd be easier to handle, but since Bean's gone she's gotten worse."

"Not really that."

Rae's eyebrows furrow. She doesn't understand.

Clearing my throat, I offer more. "I don't know what to do."

"Trav?" she questions. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard, I turn to face her. I take a quick breath before letting it out. "I slept with her."

Her mouth drops open and she inhales a deep breath at the same time she rests her hand on my arm. She squeezes gently, I'm a.s.suming from disbelief.

She wanted real. It doesn't get any more real than the truth.

"Jesus Christ, I expected you to say you were interested in her maybe. And maybe you were going to talk to Ace about," she abruptly stops and looks around to let her mind process the information. "When?"

"The night of Bean's funeral."

Releasing my arm and grabbing her forehead, she does her best to hide her expression. I'm not sure if it's disappointment or disbelief.

"I f.u.c.ked up, didn't I?" I ask a few seconds later.

Holding her hand out, palm up, she stands as she says, "Give me a minute. I'm processing."

"Okay," I reply. It's hard to hold in a smile. Rae's flabbergasted.

Finally pulling herself together, she asks, "How does Sarah feel about it? I mean, you two live together, how are you able to do that?"

The answer is simple. "She won't talk about it. She pretends it didn't happen."

"But you don't want to pretend it didn't," she observes.

"I don't know what I want anymore."

She sits down again and turns her entire body into mine. Her knee hits my hip as she gets comfortable, leaning back against the wall. She plays with the hem of her jeans to avoid my eyes.

"G.o.d, I'm stunned. I don't even know what to say to you right now," she tells me.

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Wrong, you shouldn't have kept this to yourself for so long. It's been months since the funeral, Travis. Weeks since Sarah's moved in with you."

Nodding, looking down, I remind her, "She's been hanging with Devon a lot more lately."