Page 1 of Only With Me

Prologue

Waylon

*Please read the content warnings on the previous page before reading the prologue if you have any triggers.*

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO

Acrashing sound in the distance wakes me up from a dead-ass sleep and the throbbing between my temples makes me wonder if it wasn’t my head that woke me. I squint across the room, trying to make out if my twin brother is in his bed or not.

Yep, even at nineteen years old, we still share a room in our parents’ house.

Luckily, it’s spacious, so we still have our areas, but that’s what happens when you have a larger family. At least when we outgrew the bunk beds at age nine, our parents got us full-sized ones.

Leaning over toward my nightstand, I turn on my lamp and notice his covers are pulled back. We went out last night and came home together, so he’s got to be around here somewhere. There’s no way he’d drive after how much he drank, but itwouldn’t be unlike Wilder to wander downstairs or even outside if he couldn’t sleep.

Our family’s ranch sits on a couple hundred acres fifteen minutes outside of Sugarland Creek. It’s a Southern small town of only two thousand people. Most of them have been here all their lives—like me and my four siblings.

Half of the ranch is used for our equine retreat business. Five cabins sit along the bottom of the mountain for guests to rent out, and then we offer horseback riding, swimming, fishing, hiking, and a handful of other activities. Wilder and I spend a lot of time together since we manage the trail horses and guide the guests on horseback rides.

The other half consists of the family’s personal and boarded horses as well as the stud farm. My younger siblings work there mostly between their school schedules, weekends, and over the summer. It’s all we’ve ever known, but we love it nonetheless. Growing up in East Tennessee provides great weather and amazing views. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Since the clock reads four o’clock in the morning, I contemplate going back to bed, but the nagging feeling in my gut has me walking out of our room in search of my brother. We’ve had this twin intuition for as long as I can remember and mine is currently on high alert. A feeling of…dread, almost, and waves of sadness consume me. Whether it’s from being half asleep or something to do with Wilder, I need to find out.

The rest of the house is eerily quiet. My dad’s alarm goes off at five. Ranch chores don’t stop on the weekends, so we’ll be expected to be up and ready for work by six. My mom loves to cook and makes everyone breakfast before we head out, so the house will be brightly lit and loud within the next hour. It’s the worst after going out all night, but that’s the price we pay for having a social life.

I could do without the partying, but I don’t like leaving Wilder. He loves to have a good time and can be a handful, so I prefer to be with him to make sure he’s safe and gets back home. Even though we’re notlegallyallowed to drink, that’s never stopped anyone in this small town—barn, field, or house parties. We’ve been to them all. Sometimes in one night.

As I walk down the hallway, I notice the bathroom door is ajar and the motion night light is on, so someone must be inside.

Not wanting to walk in on Wilder doing his business, I knock softly.

“Hey, you okay?”

I’m not sure how long he’s been in there, but when he doesn’t respond, I push open the door to peek inside.

I chuckle under my breath at his drunk ass passed out on the bathroom floor in only his boxers. Couldn’t even make it back to bed after he took a piss. Typical.

Kicking his arm with my foot, I say, “Dude, get up. Dad and Mom will kill you if they find you like this.”

He doesn’t so much as grunt when I kick him a second time, even harder.

After several seconds of no movement, my heartbeat ticks faster in my neck. Something feels wrong.

“Wilder? Get up, man.”

Moving around him, my bare foot steps in something wet.

I lift it and try to shake it off. “Jesus Christ, did you pee on the floor?”

Again, no reaction from him.

“Okay, time to wakey-wakey, bro.”

This time I flick on the light and the room bathes in brightness. This should get his attention.

“I swear to God, I ain’t carryin’ your drunk ass?—”

When my eyes adjust to the light, I realize it’s not piss on the floor.