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Reaching in my nightstand, I take out the flask I have in there of some moonshine my grandpa made. Halfway through it and I’m staring at Abbi’s Instagram page again. She hasn’t announced her engagement on there. Maybe because she knows I follow her.

For reasons I don’t understand, I call her. It’s not the first time we’ve talked since she left home. Back seat of an Impala remember?

Tapping my finger to her contact, I press Call before I even have time to think about it, let alone check the time.

“Hello,” she answers, after the fourth of fifth breath I take.

But I don’t say anything. I breathe though. In and out and sigh at the sound of her voice. It sounds so far away, yet like she’s right next to me in the bed.

“Jace….” She sighs, but it’s not from disappointment. No, I know what her disappointment sounds like and it’s not this. There’s anticipation though. Probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing. “It’s two in the morning.”

See? Told you. Groaning, I lay back against my pillow. “I see someone’s getting hitched.”

I can hear her swallow. “So it takes an invitation to get you to call me back?”

It’s true. She’s called me six times in the last month and I’ve ignored every call. Maybe she was trying to warn me about this. Maybe ask if I objected? Well yeah, I fucking object, but when has anything I wanted been the deciding factor in the chronicles of Abbi and Jace? It hasn’t.

I laugh at her question, even though nothing about this is funny. It’s either that or I drive to Tennessee and kidnap her and demand she marries me, not this fucking Griff guy.

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m calling you at two in the morning.” I stare up at my ceiling. “What the fuck do you think, darlin’? I’m not doin’ it sober.”

There’s another sigh. This one is more of annoyance. “You don’t have to be a dick.”

And then the line goes dead.

Setting the flask down after another drink, I pull the phone away.Call ended.

Huh.

I dial her back.

After what seems like forever, she answers. “What?”

“I think we got disconnected.”

“Nope. I hung up on you.”

I lift my head from the pillow once more and see headlights dancing along my window. It’s probably my sister coming home so I yank my curtains closed. “That was rude.”

“Jace.” Abbi groans, a gentle breathing pattern following my name. “Why are you calling me?”

I picture her then, lying in bed. Maybe in the arms of another man, or maybe he’s not even there. It doesn’t replace the fact that she’s in the wrong bed. “Why are you marrying someone else?”

There’s a pause. A stutter to her breath as if she doesn’t want to admit this next part. “Because… I love him.”

I close my eyes. There’s another sharp pain that hits my chest. It’s deeper. Regret filled, and you know, sad. I let this happen. I have no one to blame but myself. The reality has me clenching my jaw. Maybe it’s more anger than regret. Because I’m to blame for it and she knows it. Maybe her saying she loves him is a dig. I’ve never told her I love her. I don’t need to. She knows I do. “Not too long ago you loved me. Did that just go away?”

I picture her in the back of the Impala last fall. The way the air stood still and our need suffocated the silence.

“I’m coming,” I told her.

“I’m falling,” she whispered.

“Don’t do this now.” Her whisper hisses through the line and it’s heavy, like our love. Constricting. Confining. Controlling.

“Do what?” I ask, playing stupid even though I know exactly what I’m doing.