Wes turned off the water and threw a towel over my head, using a little bit too much aggression as he did so. The ass.

When I turned around he brandished a pair of scissors in his hand and a smile I can only describe as way too eager.

“No.” I shook my head. “Hell, no.”

“Oh, come on.” He held the scissors up in the air and snipped. “Go big or go home.”

“No.”

“Afraid?” He tilted his head.

“Shit.” I wiped my face with my hands. “Maybe a little.”

“Try having cancer.” His eyes narrowed. “Now stop being a bitch and sit down.”

I shook my head. “Being healthy’s changed you.”

“No.” Wes gave me a sad smile. “Almost losing my best friend — that changed me.”

“Wes—”

“I know you’re sorry.” He cleared his throat. “But if you ever go to that dark place again, I’m following you and I can be annoying as hell. I think we both know that. So, sit down while I cut your hair. We’re doing this together.”

Giving in, I nodded. “Thanks, Wes. For… everything.” Because he’d stayed up for twelve hours — missing sleep, missing food, missing everything — to help me come up with a plan.

He’d said he owed me.

But in the end, I think I’d always owe him for everything he did, for everything he’d done, for everything he was still doing by just being Wes. Freaking. Michels.

Shit. I would not cry.

As pieces of hair fell in front of me, and the sound of snipping clamored in my ears, I felt the weight lifted. I stopped slumping. Instead of leaning forward, I sat up. Instead of feeling emptier and more horrified…

I felt… invigorated.

I was able to smile — because the pieces of hair on the floor weren’t black. They were golden blond.

When Wes was finished he handed me a mirror and slapped me on the back. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Ashton Hyde, nice to meet you.”

He was just a man. Just a very, very, very attractive and popular man. And I had kissed him. A lot. Funny, when I was sixteen I imagined what it would be like to kiss Ashton Hyde. Never in my lifetime did I think it would actually happen — or feel so right. —Saylor

Saylor

The sweet smell of my mom’s pancakes woke me from my fitful sleep. When I opened my eyes, the clock on the bedside table confirmed that I’d totally slept in. Grumbling, I rolled over and threw on a pair of ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. After eating my body weight in pancakes, I left her apartment and drove, as slow as humanly possible to the Home.

It was one of my Friday afternoons and as much as I didn’t want to face Gabe, I knew my mom was right. Besides, no way could I abandon everyone.

As luck would have it — no traffic.

Of course.

I don’t know what I expected when I pulled up to the Home, but everything seemed normal. As if a movie/pop star hadn’t just come out of hiding last night, as if Gabe and I were still friends.

As I got out of my car, I shivered. The air was thick with mist. The two security guards nodded at me and let me through.

Martha was at the front desk, a smile on her face. “Ah Saylor, how are you today?”

“Good.” I’d be lying if I said my eyes weren’t darting all over the place, looking for traces of Gabe.

“He’s already inside,” Martha answered, pulling my cell phone from my clenched hand. “And he’s waiting for you.”

I cleared my throat and suddenly found great interest in staring at the countertop. “Who?”

She laughed.

Was I that transparent?

Sighing, I walked, again, as slow as my legs would allow me while still moving, and opened the doors to the game room.

Greedily, I searched for Gabe.

But Gabe wasn’t who I found.

Because Gabe didn’t exist anymore.

My breath caught in my chest as Ashton freaking Hyde rose from his chair and moved toward me.

The only thing that was the same? The tattoos. No piercings. No dark hair.

He was wearing blue skinny jeans, brown boots, and a tight tan Henley that opened up revealing a few chest tattoos.

His hair was golden blond. The type you see on TV and swear isn’t real. The type that looks like dark spun gold.

“You came.” He sounded relieved.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t look at him in the eyes. Not now. Not knowing what he did to me, how he affected me. My heart might as well have been exposed for all to see — no doubt he heard it.

Gabe or Ashton, or whoever he was — I guess in my mind he was still Gabe — reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bottle. It was the size of a keychain and made of glass.

“What’s this?”

Gabe smiled. That paired with his dark skin and bright eyes, I had to blink to keep my mouth from falling open. “Five tears. You’re right. How dare I cause more — when I don’t even fix the first ones that fell?”

Speechless I stared.

“A tear for a tear,” he whispered then shook the tiny bottle.

“You—”

“It was only fair.” His eyes fell to my mouth. “By my count that means I have three more to make up for. So you better prepare yourself.”

“Prepare myself?” I repeated, still in shock.

“Yeah.” He smiled again and started to walk away toward Princess. Then as if forgetting something, he turned and said simply, “I’m falling.”

“Huh?”

“I’m falling for you too. I haven’t fallen. Falling. As in still falling, still in the air, still trying to get used to the idea that I’ve just nosedived off a cliff with every intention of making sure the landing doesn’t break my fall.”

“And if it does?”

“Then at least I still jumped.”

My breath caught in my throat, my body responded to his words as if he’d physically picked me up and twirled me around the room and kissed me senseless.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats.” I clapped my hands four times.

They followed. Princess shouted. Normal. Everything felt normal.

“We’ve been at this over four weeks.” I looked around the room. “Last time we met, we worked on our own songs. Does anyone want to share?”

A few people volunteered. Each of them trying hard to sing the notes they’d colored on their papers. Even Princess shouted the notes Gabe had colored for her.

“Anyone else?” I looked around the room, most everyone was distracted by his or her own worksheet, looking at each other’s, whispering.

“I want to go,” Gabe’s voice pierced the air.

“Oh yes, Park!” Princess shouted. “Play a song! Play your song!”

Gabe’s smile was for her and only her as he bent over and kissed her forehead. I would have never recognized her. But it was Kimmy. Kimmy Paige. Eighteen-year-old starlet. I really honestly thought she’d died. She’d been in a coma for so long, the media had lost interest.

“Parker!” Princess shouted, excitement evident in her twinkling eyes as her gaze followed him to the piano bench.

The songs he sang. They were hers. Ashton had been famous for it. He would write love songs for her then upload them to YouTube. One time, he’d even filmed himself singing her to sleep.

Was it any wonder women everywhere about killed themselves when he disappeared?

Gabe sat at the piano looking like he’d been born there. His hands hovered over the keys. “A new song. For new beginnings.” He lifted his eyes just slightly and met my gaze. And then he began to play.

Transfixed, I watched him while he played — his eyes never left mine.

“How could I let a love go — one I’d been holding onto for so long — one that felt like home? It’s not easy to let go of the pieces, even though they’re the reason for my pain. I gripped them so hard that my blood fell like rain. But nothing, nothing could have prepared me for a new life with you — one I didn’t deserve, one I want to pursue.” He leaned over the piano, closing his eyes, as the music dipped. The song was both beautiful and haunting, his body was one with the piano, and in turn I felt like I was the piano. Like he was playing me, every stroke of the keys was him kissing my skin.