Page 25

Wesley sits beside me and cracks open a fresh bottle of water and takes a swig. I pass him the container of apples, and he picks a few slices and stuffs one in his mouth.

Our silence is relaxing, neither of us having the urge to fill it with nonsense.

This is what I wanted with Evan—the ability to just sit and be.

But he never liked to hike, and the one time he came with me, he complained the entire time.

It erased the magic of the moment, and we turned around and went home before we even reached a halfway point.

But sitting beside Wesley, I’m able to enjoy the early morning, the view, and the company.

My mind clear, I start humming Lana’s Melody, the song feeling right in the moment. Any other time I came here, I wouldn’t say or do anything. I would just relax and clear my head. But today, it seems right that my mom is here with us. She loved Wesley and would be proud of him for getting clean.

Softly, Wesley starts singing, his voice so ethereal it sounds unreal.

As I keep humming, he sings louder, the richness of his timbre washing over me.

I hum and hum, watching how his face transforms the longer he belts out lyrics.

He loves it, loves music. It might have taken him to some terrible places, but he was meant to sing.

The last time I saw you, I knew you were going to be…

The person that made me love…

Me…

His voice trails off, and he smiles briefly before a look of such anguish crosses his face that I get worried.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I know you said…music, it’s?—”

Wesley turns to me and shakes his head. “It’s not about the music. It’s about who I wrote the song with. Vic.”

There’s that name again. He must have meant a great deal to Wesley for him to constantly be on his mind.

“Can you tell me what happened to him?”

Wesley closes his eyes and clenches his hands into fists against his thighs. “He overdosed.”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” I murmur.

He exhales roughly, a sob catching on the long breath. “I, uh…I was there.”

“What do you mean?”

Wesley rocks as he stares out at the forest below.

“Mitch and Kas smoked weed, getting high whenever they could get their hands on a joint, but they never messed with pills or anything. But me and Vic? We found a way to get the harder stuff. My dad had pills from when he was in some kind of construction accident and didn’t notice if I lifted a few every now and then.

Any other time, we’d score from local dealers at our school. ”

I don’t speak, don’t ask questions, I barely even breathe. Wesley looks as if he needs to get this off his chest, and I don’t want to interrupt him while he’s unburdening his soul.

“For years,” he says, “we used together, Vic using more than me, but he always shared.” He releases a humorless chuckle.

“But it was harmless, right? We made it to our gigs, we wrote music, and we signed a deal. We were…we were young, and we were invincible.” A faint smile crosses his lips before it drops. “That’s what we thought, anyway.”

A shuddering breath leaves him, and he rocks faster.

“One night, we finished up our studio session earlier than usual, and we all left, wanting a few minutes of downtime. We couldn’t agree on how a song should sound, and we weren’t getting anywhere.

Most people think it’s just walk into the booth, sing a song, and it’s done.

There’s a lot that goes into making a single track, and that day, we were all exhausted and frustrated with the sound engineer, the label manager, and Zed, our group manager.

Nothing was going to plan. We’d recorded one track, but Vic wasn’t happy with the result, and he said we had to hang it up to rest our vocals.

I wanted a hit of something, so I didn’t care one way or the other.

“Mitch and Kas said they wanted to grab some food, but me and Vic wanted to get faded. So we split up and headed to our shithole apartment, while they went with Zed to a restaurant near the studio.” He wraps his arms around his waist and lowers his head.

“When we got home, me and Vic got stoned. I had some pills, and we had some coke that one of the studio execs gave us. I started in on the pills, tossing them back before we did the coke, chasing a high.” He looks over at me.

“This isn’t going to be a pretty story.”

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you.”

He folds his lips in and nods. “Me and Vic did a few lines and shot the shit for a bit. Then he pulled out the shit he got from some fucking guy down the block. ‘Let’s try something different,’ he said, showing me the packet of heroin and the paraphernalia.

I shook my head. I never got down with needles.

My mom was a heroin addict, among other things, and fucked random dudes to support her and Perry’s habit.

I never wanted to do that, even if it was the only substance around that would get me high. ”

I have a feeling I know where his story is going, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Please God, don’t let it be what I think it is.

“I tried to tell him we had shit we knew wouldn’t fuck us up too bad. But Vic said he’d always wanted to try it, said he heard it was the ultimate high. I put my foot down, told him that no, we didn’t need that shit. He agreed, and we finished our lines of cocaine.”

Wesley looks up at the sky, silent tears tracking his cheeks. I place a hand on his and he jumps but doesn’t pull away. “You don’t have to continue.”

“No, I need to get it out.” He pulls in a deep breath as if gathering his courage and says, “After our high mostly wore off, I dragged myself to our little mattress on the floor and threw myself down on it. I was asleep within minutes. But Vic…stayed awake. He cooked up the heroin, and he shot it into his veins. I was so fucked up that I didn’t hear him struggle or when he hit the floor when he overdosed.

I on ly woke up when the door opened and there was screaming in the room.

Mitch and Kas found him on the floor, vomit down his front and covering his face.

His eyes were peeled wide open, and the needle was still stuck in his arm. ”

“Fuck, Wesley. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” I pull him in for a hug, and he clings to me, his tears spilling down my neck.

“I shouldn’t have let him keep that shit.

I knew Vic. He was always doing shit he said he wouldn’t do.

But I thought he wouldn’t fuck around with something we’d never tried before.

If I had taken it from him, he’d still be alive.

He’d still be…” His sobs wrack his body.

“He was my best friend, Jax. I should have helped him.”

“Shhh,” I say, rubbing at the hair at the nape of his neck. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You can’t.”

He nods. “I know. But it’s so hard.” He pulls back and scrubs his face.

“That’s the reason I never tried heroin.

Besides my mom being a fucking addict for longer than I could remember, what happened to Vic scared the shit out of me.

I might have been slowly killing myself, but I was afraid to die.

I didn’t want someone to find my body, looking scared and covered in puke.

” He blows out a breath. “I’m so fucking weak, something that happened so long ago still affecting me like this. ”

“Hey,” I say fiercely, gripping the back of his neck tightly.

Wesley looks up at me with wide eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with mourning your friend.

Nothing . We all have regrets about things we wished we could change, but that doesn’t make you weak.

You hear me? You’re not weak. You’re the strongest man I know. ”

He huffs a laugh devoid of any levity. “If I was, I would have been able to get out of the shitty situation I was in with Perry. So glad that fucker is dead. ”

Perry killed himself after he was sentenced to seventy-five years in prison for the sexual assault of a minor, promoting prostitution and drug charges.

He already had a target on his back because of his sex offense, so rather than face inmates shanking him in the shower, he hung himself with bedsheets before he was transferred to the maximum-security prison.

My dad wasn’t happy when he found out he took himself out instead of facing his years behind bars, wanting him to pay for his crimes against Wesley.

I slide closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. Wesley wraps his arms around me, and I thread mine around his waist. “It’s okay. We helped. I wish I had sooner.”

“Thank you.” He kisses the top of my head, and goose bumps break across my body. “I never figured out how the cops knew to come over. The neighbors never gave a fuck about all the noise and shit. Not sure why they decided that night was the time to call, but I’m grateful.”

My face heats. “That was me and my parents. We went to the police station right after you left. I had to beg Mom to let me go with them. I told them what I saw, the bruises and stuff. With my dad being an attorney, they took his complaint and went to check on you immediately.”

He’s quiet then asks, “When did you take the pictures?”

“I waited for you to fall asleep. Dad said it helped your case.”

Wesley untangles his arms from around me and lifts my head, cupping my cheeks. “You really did try to save me?”

“I did.”

His face grows soft. “You did what was right as opposed to what I asked you to do.” One of his thumbs strokes my cheek, and I close my eyes and shudder, loving how warm and soft his hands feel on my face. “You’re amazing. ”

When I open my eyes, I catch Wesley’s gaze darting to my lips, then back to my eyes. “What?” I ask, butterflies dancing in my belly.

In a low voice, he says, “I never stopped loving you.”

I gasp, and my mouth runs dry.

“I wish I had done things differently with you.”

Taking a leap, I say, “You can start right now.”

His eyes heat, and he looks down at my lips again, licking his own. He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away, but I wouldn’t dream of it.

The gentle press of his lips warms me, taking my breath away. Slowly, he opens me up, exploring my mouth. I whimper against him, holding on to his wrists so I don’t fly away.

All too soon, the kiss is over, and Wesley presses his forehead against mine. “I should have done that a lot sooner,” he whispers.

A smile stretches my lips. “Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He kisses my forehead. “Now give me some of those grapes. I’m gonna pass out from that strenuous hike if you don’t feed me.”

A light giggle bursts from me. “Yeah, I’m sure the slight incline and our glacial pace was strenuous.” Still, I move away and hand him the container with the grapes.

“Bring me back here again?” he asks, searching over the horizon at the sun shining bright.

“Anytime you want.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Wesley. Anything for you.”