"Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us."
                                                  
                                                   —Nicole Reed

Roman

Ring, Ring
Ring, Ring
Ring, Ring

My eyes snap open, then immediately squeeze shut when a searing beam of sunlight punches me straight in the face.
Fuck. That’s bright. What time is it?

"Close the drapes," I groan into the room, hoping someone—anyone—hears me and takes care of the problem. My head pounds, a dull throb radiating behind my temples.

Silence. No movement.

I crack one eye open and force myself to sit up. My muscles protest, stiff and heavy, like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’m still fully dressed, shoes and all, sprawled across my bed in a mess of wrinkled sheets.

I don’t remember a fucking thing.

Ring, Ring
Ring, Ring
Ring, Ring

"Whose phone is that?" I grumble.

"It’s yours, bro," comes the lazy drawl of my best friend, Sebastian.

I blink blearily as he strides into the room, a half-eaten piece of toast hanging from his mouth and my phone clutched in one hand. His dyed black hair sticks up at wild angles, and there’s smudged eyeliner beneath his eyes, remnants of a night that was clearly more eventful than mine. Red lipstick stains his cheek and his lips.

He is, however, very much not dressed.

The only thing covering his body is a bowtie.

"Seb." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Put your fucking dick away. That’s not the first thing I wanna see when I wake up."

He grins, unfazed. "It’s not like you haven’t seen it before. Besides, I got a new piercing. You should appreciate fine craftsmanship."

I groan. "Get out."

He chuckles, tossing my phone onto the bed beside me. "That thing’s been ringing all morning. Seems important. You might wanna answer it."

And just like that, he saunters out, full ass on display, the stupid smiley-face tattoo on his left cheek making an unwanted appearance.

"Put some fucking clothes on!" I call after him.

He just flips me off.

Sebastian is a menace. But he’s also my family. Not related but more like a brother to me than my own flesh and blood.

We grew up together back in Peace River Grove, a small town outside of New York, bonding over art, shitty home lives, and the shared desire to get the fuck out. When my mother and her asshole husband kicked me out at seventeen, Seb didn’t even hesitate to leave with me. His parents never gave a damn about him, so we took what little money we had, packed whatever could fit in a single duffel, and never looked back.

At the time, I hated my mother for abandoning me. Hated that she chose her husband over her own son. But looking back now… maybe it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because without that shove, I wouldn’t be here now, a co-owner of one of the best tattoo shops in all of California.

Life has a way of working itself out.

Or at least, that’s what I used to believe.

Ring, Ring
Ring, Ring

The screen flashes with an unknown number.

I frown. Who the fuck—

"Hello?"

"Thank god, I’ve called you like twenty times," a girl says, voice rushed, edged with panic.

I pause. I don’t recognize her. But she sounds… upset.

"Who is this?" My mind instantly jumps to the worst-case scenario. Some random hookup calling about last night. But that wouldn’t make sense. I never give out my number.

"It’s Ella."

That name yanks me upright.

"Ella?"

"Ella Bennett. I’m friends with your brother, Callum. I live next door…"

I already know who she is.

She doesn’t need to say more.

"What’s going on?" My voice sharpens, instinct kicking in. "Is something wrong with Callum?"

"No. Well, yes."

I push off the bed, already restless. "Yes or no, Ella?"

"You have to come home, Roman."

A cold weight settles in my stomach. Something’s wrong.

I stride into the living room, where Seb lounges on the couch, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He looks up as I enter, immediately sensing the shift. 'Everything okay?' he mouths.

I put Ella on speaker. "What’s going on?"

She sniffles, and my stomach drops. "It’s your mom, Roman. She had an accident."

My fingers tighten around the phone. "What kind of accident?"

She hesitates. "She, uh… she slipped and fell, and—"

"Spit it out, Ella."

A shaky breath. "I’m so sorry, Roman. But your mom didn’t make it."

The words don’t register.

Not at first.

Ella’s voice fades, her apology ringing in my ears,  but it’s like my brain refuses to process it.

My mom. Dead.

Silence swallows the room.

Seb shifts beside me, pressing his lips into a tight line. "Fuck, Ro…"

"I know." My voice is distant. Hollow.

I haven’t spoken to my mother in five years. She kicked me out and never looked back. And now… she’s gone.

I don’t even know how to feel.

But Callum...how does he feel? My little brother, who resents me for leaving, who didn’t even call me himself.

Seb watches me carefully. "I know she wasn’t the best mother to you. And I don’t know what the fuck is going through your head right now, but… what do you wanna do?"

I swallow hard. There’s only one answer.

"The only thing I should do." I meet his eyes. "I have to go home."

Callum may hate me. But he needs me. And I’m all he has now.

Seb nods, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. "So back to Peace River?"

I nod. "Back to Peace River."

Fuck.