“Yeah. Let’s get this shit out there, Carter.” With stiff shoulders, Max made his way around the desk. His steps were heavy, angry, but Carter stood firm. “You think because you have a woman who believes the bullshit you feed her about being a good guy, that you’re above all this.” He motioned around the small room with wide arms. “You’re not. You’re still the Wesley Carter you’ve always been. You’ll never change. You can’t.”

Though Carter knew it was mostly the coke talking, the urge to smack his best friend in the mouth still thundered through him.

Max smirked at Carter’s silence. “You think you’re so fucking perfect with your grandmother’s piggy bank. Not all of us have a fucking trust fund like you, Carter. Some of us have to pay our way.”

Anger carved through Carter’s chest. “Are you serious with this shit? You know what that money means, what I’ve been through over it. It means exactly dick. It always did! Jesus! Do you even know what you’re talking about, or has the coke finally killed off what brain cells you had?”

“Respect is more important than money, Carter.” Max held up the Glock, pupils black and menacing. “This is more powerful than owning sixty percent. This is more important than some Upper East Side bitch who sucks your cock—”

Carter’s index finger snapped up to Max’s face. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he spat. “You don’t know a thing about her.”

Max sneered, “You said you had my back. But you don’t have shit.”

“You selfish son of a bitch,” Carter murmured, shaking his head slowly. He breathed, his temper starting to loosen. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He swallowed. “Do you remember the night you saved my life?”

“Of course I do. How could I not? I took a bullet for you.”

“I’m glad you do.” Carter’s chest grew tight. “Because we’re even now, Max. I’ve paid my debt. I did the time for you. I owe you nothing.”

“Carter—”

“No,” Carter snapped. “I’m done. I have everything I want in my life.” He turned to go.

Max’s eyes widened in disbelief, stopping him. “You’re leaving to go back to what? To a woman?”

“I’m in love with her, Max. Don’t you get it? She’s enough for me. She made me realize I’m better than this.”

“I don’t believe this! She’ll leave you, man,” he spat. “Once she’s done with you, she’ll be gone like they all are. They take from you what they want, and then they’re gone without a fucking word or care! Can’t you see? That bitch is slumming it for a while, just like your mother did—”

Carter’s fist connected hard with Max’s face. His nose exploded with an almighty crack. He stumbled back, arms flailing, while Carter stood over him, filled with a rage so furious he could barely breathe.

Finding his bearings, with a face covered in blood, Max grabbed wildly for the Glock Carter had set on the desk and pointed it at Carter’s head. His eyes were wild.

“Are you gonna shoot me, Max?” Carter asked, pinning his friend with a white-hot stare that dared him.

“Touch me again and see,” Max growled, cocking the gun. “You owe me a bullet.” He spat blood onto the floor.

Grief twisted in Carter’s stomach. It was fucking tragic that it’d come to this. His best friend was lost in the depths of a drug that was slowly driving him crazy, insane with his heartbreak but too stubborn to ask for help. They’d traveled the same road for so many years, brothers in arms, but now they were headed in completely different directions.

Slowly, Carter turned toward the door of the office, the sensation of the loaded gun blistering through his leather jacket.

“You’re leaving?” Max asked without inflection. “Just like that? You’re … You can’t. I need you here! Carter! CARTER!”

Carter reached for the handle. “I love you, brother, but I have to think of Kat now.” He shook his head. “You’re better than this shit.” He pulled the door open. “When will you realize that?”

“Carter, I—”

When Max stayed silent, Carter turned back. His mouth dropped open when he saw a tear fall down Max’s face. The Glock in his hand shook.

He gasped for breath. “You can’t leave. Everyone leaves me. Not you. I’m— It’s … Don’t. Fuck, man.”

The blood from Max’s broken nose dripped onto his T-shirt, and Carter was immediately remorseful. “I need help. It hurts.” They’d fought before, but never to the point where blood was spilled.

“I’m sorry I punched you, but—”

“No.” Max took a deep, shuddering breath. “My fucking heart hurts.” He closed his eyes. “I’m … It kills me that she’s not here.”

Carter took a tentative step toward the crumbling man, afraid to say anything.

“Every day I wake up, and she’s not there,” Max continued. “And I feel like I’m dying all over again.” The gun in his hand dropped to the floor. “My baby, my son”—he gasped—“he would be … almost two. If he was … and she … and my mom’s gone, dad’s gone, and you’re with your girl. And what do I have?” He looked around himself, helpless. “I have hangovers and nightmares that … terrify me, and I can’t sleep. The coke … keeps me awake. It makes me forget for a while, and I can finally breathe.” He gripped his hair and sobbed. “And then I remember again, and I’m suffocating without her.” He groaned. “Christ, I miss her so fucking much.”

Carter’s chest cracked wide-open. “I know.”

He’d die without his Peaches. She possessed his heart. If she walked away from him or gave it back, it would surely destroy him.

“Oh God,” Max whimpered into his forearm. “What happened to me? I thought I’d forget, but I can’t find myself. I’m so fucking lost. I mean … look at me. Make it stop, Carter. Please make it stop.”

Carter reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace as Max sobbed into his jacket. “Don’t leave me like she did. Help me,” Max begged. “You’re all I have left. Please. For Christ’s sake, help me.”

“I will,” Carter promised. “I swear I will, brother.”

EPILOGUE

A year later …

Shivering from the cold, Kat pushed the beach house door shut with her butt and trudged to the kitchen, where she heaved two sizeable grocery bags onto the counter. She pulled off her hat and gloves, unzipped her jacket, and made her way into the sitting room to find Carter slouched on the sofa, watching TV, chewing the ever-loving shit out of a toothpick.

Kat smiled, watching him. He’d given up smoking on his birthday in March, and now, nine months in, he hadn’t caved. She was incredibly proud of him.

Noticing her once the commercials came on, Carter looked up and smiled. “Hey, beautiful. How was your day?”

“Long, but great,” she replied. “The boys are really something. They’re really starting to listen to me. Look.” She held up a small silver key chain in the shape of a cat. “They gave me this for Christmas.”

She’d struggled to keep her emotions in check when her class of twelve students at the Brooklyn Young Offenders Institute had handed her the beautifully wrapped gift. “I’ll miss them this week.”

Carter placed his chin on the back of the sofa, looking insanely adorable. “You’ll have me.”

Kat leaned over and kissed him. “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Beth called,” Carter whispered against her lips. “She wanted to know if we’re still going to the benefit on New Year’s. I told her yes. That okay?”

“Definitely. How was your day? Did Max call?”

Carter’s face turned sad. “Yeah, he did.” He sighed. “It breaks my fucking heart, his being in that place at Christmas, but I know it’s where he needs to be.”

Less than twelve months after his heartbreaking confession to Carter, Max was admitted into rehab, finally conceding that he needed professional help. His solo battle against his coke addiction had been valiant but short-lived. He was clean for only seventy-three days before he caved after seeing a woman he thought was Lizzie on a busy street in Brooklyn.