“Please wake up. I didn’t go through this for you to be dead.”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” I mumble. Her tone, a mixture of torture and agony, scrapes at my soul. It’s the same tone Rachel had when she felt I had betrayed her. “I’m sorry.”

The cold fingers touching my head pause. Why isn’t she warm?

“Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”

The voice is familiar, but not Rachel’s. I fight the fog and force consciousness and every muscle screams as I stretch.

“I’m awake.” Not what I meant to say. I meant to ask if she was okay. At the moment, brain and mouth aren’t connected. My mind’s jumbled; a scattered mess as I try to sort out why I fell asleep, why I’m in pain, why it’s cold, why my bed’s hard—

“You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were dead.”

—why there’s a girl in my bed wondering if I’m dead. I pry my eyes open and successfully free one. There’s three of her at first and, through blinking, she slowly evolves into one. “I know you.”

On her knees, Haley hovers near me. Behind her, my car sits, still running. The headlights highlight a couple of blond strands in her light brown hair.

“Why did you follow me?” she demands. “All you had to do was act like we were still talking. But no, you call out after me, then look to where I was heading. Why not skywrite I had bolted for the neighborhood?”

She’s trembling. I reach out and rest my hand on her wrist. The skin beneath my own is ice. “You’re cold.”

“So are you. You’re probably in shock.”

My thumb swipes across her skin, as if that one movement could warm her. Protect her. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. None of this is all right.” She removes her arm and I suddenly feel empty.

There’s a tear on her face. Just one. And she quickly wipes it away. The action causes an ache beyond the pulsating of my skin and head. Something’s wrong. My eyes dart around and I quickly catch up on events. I’m not in bed. I almost hit her with my car, we fought, I discovered she had trouble, I followed her here and then I got my ass kicked. I lift my head and immediately regret the movement with a groan. “Are you okay?”

“You should have listened!”

Not an answer, and I left my patience back at the shopping plaza. “Are. You. Okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps. “Just fine. Freaking fantastic fine. Meeting you is the pinnacle of my existence.”

“Some people say thank you when a complete stranger jumps two guys for them.”

Haley slumps against the bumper of my car and a rush of air leaves her body. “Sorry and thank you. It’s—” she waves her hand in the air “—messed up, but that’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

A car slowly drives around us. I expect it to stop, but it keeps going. Great neighborhood. “They left my car.”

“Yeah.” She glances away. “They’re gone.”

My eyes narrow on her face, but she flips her hair so it’s hiding her cheek and jaw. I blink as my sight blurs. Something’s off. They would have stolen the car... “I need to get up.” But not a single cell in my body responds. “They could come back.”

“They won’t.” Haley nurses her right hand. “Trust me—they won’t. At least not tonight. Tomorrow maybe, but not tonight.”

Tomorrow? What? I rise onto my elbows and the nauseating spinning convinces me to ease my head back to the ground. Driving is going to be a bitch.

“Stop it. You need to stay still. In fact, you need an ambulance.”

“No hospitals.” Showing at an E.R. like this will cause Dad to go Chernobyl.

“Your friend told me the same thing. It’s why I haven’t called 911. Possibly a stupid decision on my part.”

The pounding stills. “What friend?”

“Haley called Isaiah,” says a female voice to the left. Haley and I jerk our heads toward the darkness. Haley bolts up and jumps over me, acting as if she’s my protector.

I’m dreaming. This is all a bad dream. I’m going to wake tomorrow and think how crazy real this whole thing felt because there is no way my little sister’s best friend would be here.

“I’m Abby,” the voice says to Haley, closer now. “You and I go to Eastwick together.”

Like a stunning yet sadistic version of the grim reaper with long dark hair, Abby walks into the light wearing a black hoodie and skintight blue jeans.

“No, you don’t,” I mumble. “Eastwick is a public school. Abby goes to private school. Not mine—one of those religious ones.” Saint Mary’s. Saint Martha’s. Saint who-the-fuck-knows. It’s what Rachel told my mother. This is a dream. Just a dream.

Haley’s eyes flicker from me to Abby, then back again. She never relaxes her position and my mind stops and starts like it’s stuttering. Fuck me—Haley’s in the same stance as fighter guy.

“I’ve seen you around,” Haley says to Abby. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah. Do you?”

“We sort of ran into each other.”

I laugh and they both stare at me like I’m insane.

“That’s West.” Abby slurs my name. “He’s been causing problems for a friend of mine.”

Haley edges herself between me and Abby like she’s willing to box this girl for me.

Abby chuckles. “Relax. You called Isaiah and Isaiah called me. For the moment, I’m playing guardian angel.”

Isaiah? “Hell no.” I shove off the ground like I’m doing a sit-up and only get far enough to prop my arms on my knees. I’ve never liked rides that went in circles and I haven’t recently changed my mind. My eyes shut tight. “I don’t want that bastard’s help.”

“Well, you’re getting it,” says Abby. When I reopen my eyes, Abby smirks. “And it looks like you need it.”

“Screw that,” I mutter and spit out new blood that’s trickled from the cut on my lip.

Isaiah is Rachel’s boyfriend and he’s the reason why she’s in the hospital. Dad found Rachel with him at a dragway and that’s where Dad and Rachel had their accident. I’ll roast in hell and haul Isaiah there with me before I accept his help. “How does he know about this?”

Haley drops beside me. “You were out. Cold. I found your cell and I was desperate to find someone who knew you to see what hospital you should go to, so I dialed the first number I found—”