PROLOGUE
COLE
I’M COLE FUCKING REYNOLDS.
Dark.
Evil.
Fucked up.
A part of me has always been this way. And that part of me will never change. Some would call that too much damage. Others would just say I’m an asshole. I’m not sure which one I really am anymore. But does it matter?
Not one fucking bit.
Have you ever heard someone say that one moment defines a person’s life? If you say no, I’ll know you’re a fucking liar, like so many others out there.
Well, let me tell you this, the people who say there is “one” defining moment are fucking morons. If you believe there is just one, you are a dumbass too. I’ve had two such defining moments in my life. And I’m only eighteen.
I was twelve the first time.
Tears roll down my face while I stand inside the cold and silent room. It’s got a couch on either side that sits three people and a round table in the right corner with a phone on it. That’s it. No bed and no mother. They said they were taking me to the hospital to see her.
“Where is she?” I demand. “I wanna see my mother.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cole,” Celeste, my mother’s friend suggests, rubbing my back.
I pull away from her. “That isn’t for you to decide.”
“Cole—”
“She’s right.” A man in a white coat interrupts her, entering the room. He shuts the door and comes to a stop before us. “Seeing your mother won’t bring her back.” My heart pounds at his words. “And I don’t think this is how she wants you to remember her.”
“I don’t care what you think.” I spin around, giving him my back to face Celeste again. She can’t be gone. This isn’t happening. I don’t believe it! I don’t believe them! Celeste said she didn’t make it through surgery. “Where is my father?”
“On his way.” She sniffs.
“I want to talk to him. Now!”
She nods quickly. “I’ll call him.” Stepping out of the room, Celeste leaves me and the doctor alone.
I start to pace the small room. My hands fist down by my sides. This isn’t happening. She’s not dead. I shake my head. I just saw her this morning. When she dropped me off at school, she told me she had some errands to run and would pick me up after swim practice. At no point did she say she wouldn’t return. Nor did she say that she would leave me alone with my father. I can’t … I need her.
A hand on my shoulder makes me jump back. Angrily, I lift my hands and wipe the tears from my cheeks when I look up at him. “Don’t touch me!”
He doesn’t seem to be affected by my anger. He probably deals with people like me all the time. “Would you like to see your sister?”
And just like that, my mind races. I thought the baby was dead too. I remember Celeste mentioned something about blood loss. She said there had been an accident … “Is she okay?” My voice shakes. I can’t take any more bad news.
He nods once. “I can show her to you.”
Following him out of the room, I take a quick look around the cold and quiet hospital hall for Celeste but don’t see her anywhere. As we travel farther down the hallway, the soft voices grow louder. We come up to a nurses’ station and then turn right down a new hall. He comes to a stop in front of a window, and I see rows of babies wrapped in blankets lying in little beds.
“Second row. Third from the right,” he informs me as he places his finger to the glass, pointing her out.
She’s screaming. Her little mouth opens, body shaking and face flushed. She’s angry. Just like me. “What’s wrong with her?” I demand.
“Nothing. She’s perfectly fine. Babies cry.”
“She wants Mom,” I choke out. “She needs Mom.” Tears sting my eyes, and I fist my hands on the glass.
“I’m sorry, Cole,” he whispers, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I know it hurts, and it will for a while, but your sister needs you to be strong. For both of you.”
He’s right. Does he know what kind of man my father is? Most know in this town, but none do anything about it. I’m all she has. “What’s her name?” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“She doesn’t have one.”
I turn to look up at him. “Lilly.” The name comes out of my mouth without thought. I know my father won’t care enough to take the time to give her a name. Everything regarding her is up to me now. And I don’t remember my mother ever talking about what she wanted to name her.