Jace lay motionless in the bed. This wasn't Jace. This was the complete opposite of Jace's personality and what he stood for. He was vibrant and fun, always ready for anything. Nothing held them back.

John strode over to Jace's bedside and dropped to his knees, completely oblivious to the cold linoleum digging into his knees. He grabbed Jace's hand, careful not to touch the IV and closed his eyes as he bowed his head. He hadn't prayed in many years, but over the past couple of days he found himself talking to the big man up above asking for a miracle. Something. Anything. He needed Jace to wake up.

Just as John stood up, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He stood stock still, afraid to even breathe. He prayed that what he thought just happened did in fact happen.

John could swear he felt Jace squeeze his hand. It was a faint, light touch, but it gave him newfound hope.

Maybe God was listening after all. Maybe he heard his silent cries pleading to save his friend's life.

The past four days were a haze.

John had allowed himself to spiral deeper into depression over the accident. He consumed drink after drink, saying fuck you to all as he wallowed in pity. He couldn't stop blaming himself for the car accident. Every time an image popped in his head, he took a drink. The alcohol had the affect he was hoping for. At one point he couldn't even think straight enough to think of Jace. His mind was numb.

Then there was Alyssa.

He hadn't been able to reach her since that day at the river, and she refused to return any of his messages. But he knew where she waswith that trash, Ben. And how did he know? Stupid Facebook. Her status update two days ago is exactly how he knew to look for her at Rum Bar. It was a bar about an hour out of town on the Savannah River. No one ever carded, making it a popular spot for the local college crowd. He saw red the minute he walked in and spotted them. "I'm not your girl, Johnny," she had said when he tried to pull her away from that fucker. And didn't that just sting. If it wasn't for Livy, his brother's ex-girlfriend, showing up when she did that night could have turned to shit real quick as he was ready to pound on Ben's face. The last thing he needed was to spend a night in jail over that worthless piece of shit. He didn't think he'd be able to walk away with community service over something like assault like he did when he and his boys helped Ford's brother with his school prank.

Bile rose in his throat as he thought about Ben's arm wrapped around Alyssa's shoulders. Anger poured through him. That was his girl, not Ben's. He might have fucked up and said some stupid shit to her, but he didn't actually mean it. He needed to make it right with her. He needed to start with apologizing.

John sat up to get out of bed, but he immediately regretted it. His head throbbed and his room spun in circles. Thank goodness it was summer or else he'd be flunking out of his classes. He plopped back down on his bed and looked at his watch. It was three in the afternoon? Where had the day gone?

Sighing, he stood up slowly this time and rubbed his eyes. He needed to make a few calls, one being to Alyssa, again, but the first going to Jace's mom.

"Have you heard from the doctors?" John asked when she answered the line.

"Not much," Maryanne answered quietly. "His vitals are still being monitored, the ventilator tube is still in and the swelling around his brain hasn't gone down enough. The doctors aren't sure when it will happen, but his surgeries are healing nicely, and the bruising on his face has gone down, so that's a plus."

John nodded to himself.

"Is it normal that he hasn't been woken up yet?"

"That's what they say. He had a serious amount of trauma to his head. So until the swelling goes down, they can't wake him up. It would be too dangerous. I'd rather them wait until they're absolutely positively sure anyway."

John swallowed. "I'm going to come up in a little bit-"

"Oh, no, honey. There's no reason for you to come all the time. You live your life. When I hear something, I promise to call you."

"It's really no problem, I can even bring you coffee," he pushed.

"It's okay, sweetie." John could hear her smile through the phone. "Just stay home. I'll call you when I hear more."

"I want to be there," he pushed.

"John, Jace needs his rest. Too much activity can prolong his progress. Stay home, okay?"

He sighed tiredly. "Okay."

"And John?"

He gripped the phone tighter. "Yeah?"

"Talk to your parents-they're concerned about you."

John sighed loudly. "I will."

"Starting now sounds like a good idea to me."

John chuckled sadly. "Alright."

"Talk soon."

"Bye." John hung up and tossed his phone on the bed. Rubbing a hand down his face, he was exhausted. He was torn and confused, unsure of so much in his life right now. He grabbed the first shirt he spotted and threw it on then headed down the stairs to talk with his father.

"Son, I wish you would've come to me sooner." Clark said as John finished telling him about the night of the accident.

"I know, dad. I'm sorry I worried you and mom. I just wasn't ready to talk about it."

"Understandable, but you need to know that we're always here for you whenever you need something."

John nodded his head. He did know that.

"Your mother has been with Maryanne for the last few days, you know."

He perked up. "She has?"

"She has, so I've been getting updates through her since you've been MIA."

"I told Maryanne I would come, but she told me not to. I don't know what to do. . ."

"Not trying to change the subject, but now that school is out for the summer maybe you should consider speaking with a recruiter from the Marines again. You know your scores came in, right?"

John shook his head. "I had no idea." He thought about how messed up his life was at the moment and joining the Marines at the same time. "I will, but not while Jace is hanging on by a thread. Too much is up in the air right now."

Clark clasped his hands together. "Why not give it a little more thought instead of drinking the day away, which we need to talk about." He pointed a finger at John. "That shit needs to stop."

John nodded in agreement. He didn't like who he was becoming.

"I think you would enjoy serving more than you think. It's not easy; they'll tear you down mentally and build you back up. Maybe it's what you need," Clark insinuated with a tilt of his head.

"I will, just not yet, dad. I'm not ready. Maybe I will ... Oh, I don't know ..." he shook his head.

Clark stood and gripped John's shoulder. "You'll figure it out. I have faith."

John sped over to Memorial Hospital. After two painfully long weeks, he finally got the call he'd been waiting for. Maryanne didn't say much, only that he should come to the hospital.

His heart raced a mile a minute, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. Would he walk in to find Jace with his eyes open? Would he be talking? Cracking a smile? What happened next? So many questions.

John hadn't been back but to the hospital since Maryanne told him not come. He wanted to be there, but he also wanted Jace to heal. At times he wished he'd just ignored her wishes and shown up, but he didn't. So the two weeks were filled with nothing but beer and drunk texts to Alyssa.

Which got him nowhere.

What an idiot he was. Shaking his head, John decided he would deal with that later. Right now it was all about Jace and seeing him awake.

Pulling into the hospital, John parked his truck and took off for the front doors. Going straight for the nurses' station, he hoped the nurses wouldn't take long to let him in. His emotions were all over the place and he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, John waited until he was given the okay. Walking down the long hallway, he shook out his hands and cracked his neck. He was wound up and nervous as hell, unsure of what to expect. He's going to be okay, he chanted over and over in his mind until he reached Jace's room.

Gripping the door knob, he took another deep breath and walked in . . .

And what he saw shook him to the core.

Jace with his eyes closed.

Jace still hooked up to breathing tubes.

And Maryanne crying at his bedside with red, puffy eyes.

John's heart pounded against his chest, racing so hard he thought he was going to have a heart attack. Why was Jace still sleeping? Why was he still hooked up to monitors and wires? Why was Maryanne crying? What was happening? A million thoughts ran through his mind.

Then cold dread washed over him and he began to shake.

No. This can't be happening.

Maryanne stood and shook her head as she walked over to him.

"What?" his voice cracked, shaking his head furiously. "Don't . . . don't say it."

"This is it," she said quietly, skipping the pleasantries. Tears streamed down her blotchy face. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing else that can be done. He has no brain activity, John."

"What?" he asked, stunned. He was struggling to breathe. Knots were forming in the back of his throat. "That can't be."

"Nothing," she shook her head. "The doctors performed an EEG last week. We've been waiting, but . . ." she trailed off. "Nothing, John. There's nothing there," she cried quietly. "We've been waiting for some miracle, but the test shows no activity whatsoever."

Disbelief hit him hard. "Well, maybe he needs time?"

She shook her head. "If there was some activity in his brain, then yes, but there's not. He's been surviving solely on life support."

How could this be? His chest was splitting in two. No brain activity?

"Why didn't you call me? You said you would call! I waited for you. I could've had more time with him!"

John paced back and forth, life flashed before his eyes. How could she not call him? Guilt hit him hard. Why had he not just shown up?

"John . . . I'm so sorry." He locked eyes with her and knew what she was going to say. "I . . ." she struggled with words, "I have to take him off life support."

"What?"

No.

Chills ran down John's spine. He was in shock. He grabbed his stomach as the nausea rolled through him. No . . . Just no. Take him off life support? John began shaking his head frantically. She was wrong. The doctors were wrong. Everyone was wrong. He needed more time. It wasn't time for Jace to go!

"He needs more time. Give him more time."

She shook her head. "It won't help," she said sadly, tears streaming down her face.

"You don't know that! He could have a miracle or some shit! He hasn't had enough time!"

She began to sob uncontrollably and he suddenly felt like an asshole. "But . . . but I could swear I felt him squeeze my hand when I was here last time."

Maryanne's shoulders drooped. "I thought I felt it too at one point, but the doctors said it was a muscle spasm."

"No, I know what I felt. They're all wrong. Don't do this, Maryanne, don't. Please . . ."

"Oh, John, honey . . ." She shook her head. "There isn't anything there."

Angry tears streamed down his cheeks. "So that's it? You're just going to pull the plug and that's it? Not give him anymore time? That's your son!" he yelled, pointing at Jace. "You're just going to end it like that? Give him time! Don't do this! I can't lose him!"

A tear rolled down her face. "Believe me, John, no mother wants this for their child. No mother wants to bury her child. It's killing me to have to make a decision like this," she choked. "I'd give my life in a second if I could to bring him back. This is the last thing I would ever want to do. I understand your anger and frustration because I have it too, but today . . . is the day. I called you in so you could say goodbye to Jace. Afterward . . ." she looked away, unable to look John in the eyes.

John grabbed the sides of his pounding head. Tears dripped down his face. "Does anyone else know?" There had to be a way to fix this. This couldn't be happening!

"Honey, I've already said my goodbye, it's your turn. Ford already came and left, and your parents are aware too. I figured at the funeral anyone else . . ." she trailed off. Maryanne pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes, her jaw quivered so hard she flattened her lips to stifle the cry. They would say goodbye, is what she meant to say.

He felt dizzy, light headed. How could this be happening? How? Why? Why was fate so cruel? Jace came from a good, hard working mother. Why did she have to lose her only child?

Maryanne patted his arm, trying to console him. "I'm going to get some coffee in the cafeteria. Take all the time you need."

John nodded, unable to find the right words. He had to say goodbye to his best friend, his brother. "When . . . when are you doing it?" Jesus, he couldn't even say it.

"After you leave."

"Alone?" She nodded. "Absolutely not," he enunciated each letter, hot tears riming his eyelids. "I won't allow it. I'll be here with you." No way would he allow her to watch Jace take his last breath alone. It would haunt her for the rest of her life. John would stand by her side, because when Jace left this world, a part of her would die too and she would need someone.

Her chest dropped. "John-"

"You're not doing this alone. I'll be here with you."

All Maryanne could do was pat his arm again and nod her head. "You're a good boy. Thank you for being my son's friend."

Tears streaked his cheeks.

And then she left.

It was just him and Jace in their final moments together.

The silence in the room was deafening. John stared at his best friend, guilt eating at him. The ventilator was still hooked to his mouth, white tape running down the sides of his face holding it in place. He never should have asked Alyssa to call Jace that night. He shouldn't have let him get behind the wheel. That one reckless night of fun had irrevocable consequences. Shit they'd done countless times before and nothing ever happened.

Sorrow . . . such aching sorrow ripped through his chest that he almost lost his breath. It was a deep throb, a cracking pain he'd never felt before.