“Emerson,” I murmured, holding onto the window frame myself. “Let go. You’re good. We’ve got you.”

He nodded, taking gaping breaths. He couldn’t speak. Closing his eyes, he let go, and his whole body weight came down on us. Elijah groaned from the ground, but Luke reached up and grasped Emerson’s leg, that was now wound around his chest. All of us swayed against the house and then back out, but my fingers dug in, and I kept a hold on the window. Luke did the same, steadying us. He called up, “Emerson, start climbing down.”

“Okay.” He moved slowly until he was close enough to leap to the ground.

I clambered down right afterwards. The climb up was hard enough, but after enduring Emerson climbing down on me, scooting down Luke’s body until I was close enough to jump seemed like child’s play.

Luke was slower getting off and Elijah needed a minute before he was able to stand to his feet. Emerson had to help him up, and he clapped him on the back. “I’ve never been so happy to see you guys as I am right now. I’ve never loved the earth as much as I do now either.” He bent down and kissed the ground. “Seriously, I owe you guys my life.”

Elijah shook his head, wrinkles forming in his forehead. He tried to pull up the hood of his sweatshirt, but his hands were trembling. It took two attempts to pull it over his head, and then he hunched back down. “We still have to leave.”

Luke touched my side as he moved to stand right behind me. He spoke for us, “Let’s go.”

Then we heard something that made my blood go cold.

“Not so fast.”

Brute was standing behind us with a gun pointed at Emerson’s head.

Breathe, little girl.

People started yelling. Brute was demanding to know why Emerson was sneaking off. He wanted to know why Elijah was there and why the rest of us had come with him. There were no cops in the backyard. Not yet. A haze came over me. There was chaos everywhere, but I felt centered. Maybe I couldn’t handle what was happening, but I didn’t think that was it. It was something else, something I couldn’t explain.

A voice in my head whispered, “Family. It’s all about family.”

Ignoring the shouts, I left Luke’s side and took two steps forward. Brute was frowning at me, but that gun was still pointing at Emerson.

“Yes, the cousin that hates me.” My own voice came to me—when Luke picked me up at the police station—and then a second memory was right behind it—when I accused Elijah. “It’s because of you my cousin went to rehab last summer, wasn’t it?”

I swung my gaze to my ex-boyfriend now. He had denied my accusation, but I never believed him. I always blamed him. I’d been wrong.

“What are you so goddamn worried about?” Emerson glared at me.

“You might not want to start with me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

He folded his arms over his chest, turning the same loathsome focus back on me. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m fairly certain those guys are your drug dealers, and Elijah won’t like finding that out since you’re his best friend.”

I’d been wrong. Again.

Elijah had known. There’d been no way he wouldn’t have known. I thought I finally had ‘something’ on my cousin, but I hadn’t.

“No! You don’t even know, Luke. I’m sticking up for you. For you, man.” He jerked a hand to Elijah. “And my best friend, too.” He looked to me. “Bri, it’s gone on long enough.”

I looked at Luke. Emerson had been fighting for him. His hatred toward me had been about Luke and his best friend. I’d been the one who had been hurting them, and he knew the whole time.

“I just found out that I’m scared of heights, Bri,” he rasped out. Gone was the cocky jerk. This was my cousin, the one who had come to check on me when we were younger because I left and didn’t wait for them.

“Emerson,” I said. “We’ve done this before.”

“That was when we were in the seventh grade. Times change. We’ve gotten fatter.”

“Stop it. Look at me. Come on. You can do this. Just like before. Trust us.”

He had. He listened to me, followed my instructions, and trusted me.

I looked at my cousin one last time. His eyes were bleak, swinging back and forth between Brute and the gun. It was still pointed at him, but he wasn’t saying anything. There was yelling, either from Elijah or Luke. They were arguing for Emerson’s life. I felt someone tugging on the back of my shirt, but I ignored them.

I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had to do something.

Brute was yelling over my head at someone behind me. His gun was waving in the air, up and down as he kept shouting. A vein was bulging out from his neck. Then I took the last step and moved, so I was standing in front of my cousin.

I took his place.

Breathe, little girl.

It was my mother’s voice in my head. I could hear her again as she whispered into my ear. Plates had been shattered. The kitchen table was flipped upside down. Doors were ripped off their hinges. With each crash and roar coming from the other room, my little fingers had dug into her arm. That was the night he left.

I thought nothing could get worse.

I was staring down the barrel of a gun now.

I’d been wrong.

Then the gun went off.

The crowd was cheering. They’d been chanting ‘Sustain’ for the last fifteen minutes. Our time was up. It was so close for when we’d take the stage, and I couldn’t move. Playing with them for small town gigs or at house parties was one thing, but this stadium filled to capacity was another level. My hands were sweating and shaky. As a drummer, that was embarrassing.