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PROLOGUE - 10 YEARS EARLIER

KAYLA

The phone rang in the hall downstairs and I paused to listen. I heard my mom answer, and when she didn't call me, I went back to painting my nails. My bedroom door was open, so I could hear the murmur of my mom's voice. As I slowed to carefully brush pale green polish onto my pinkie nail, she became louder and her tone was suddenly harsh. She told the person on the line never to call again, and there was a bang right before she yelled my stepfather's name.

My entire body tensed as I paused and waited. A few seconds later, I heard something smash, and Alexander, my stepfather, raised his voice in response.

I capped the polish and walked softly to my door to eavesdrop. I wanted to go to my mom, to try to calm her down and make sure she was safe, but I'd done that when they'd fought two weeks ago, and she'd told me to stay away.

Alexander was speaking to my mom about mistakes and misunderstandings. I could tell he was trying to charm her, and I'd heard him say some of these same things during their last fight. My mom did not sound like she would be soothed by him this time. There was another loud crash; something shattered on the hard tile floor.

I looked down the hall toward my stepbrother's room. His door was closed, as usual, and in the few brief moments of quiet, I could hear that he had music playing. It was Green Day, something angry, and probably was a clue to his mood. I took a deep breath and decided that risking Axel's irritation would be better than being alone. I tapped softly at his door, timing my knocks to the yells coming up from downstairs.

"What?" His deep voice came through the door.

I didn't want to speak up, didn't want to risk my mom hearing me, though she wasn't acting like she even remembered that Axel and I were home. I knocked again, and this time heard my stepbrother lower the volume of his music and move across the room.

"Can I come in?" I whispered.

His door opened, and then he was in front of me, all tight muscles and messed up hair. He looked toward the stairs, listened to the escalating argument for a moment, and then looked at me.

"I'm sorry. Can I just come in for a while?" I said.

He didn't answer, but moved back, allowing me to enter, and then he pushed the door behind me, though I noticed he didn't close it all the way. Axel's room was big. Mine was too. The house had been Alexander's before my mom married him, and it was kind of a mansion. Alexander was a race car driver, and apparently did well for himself. He also had a lot of adoring fans, which was probably the cause of the fight going on right now.

I glanced around at Axel's mess. Computer, books, heavy boots and shoes strewn across the floor, dark clothes piled everywhere. His rumpled bed was mostly clear, but I couldn't imagine sitting where he slept, so I pushed some things aside and made a small space for myself on one of his chairs.

"How's your nose?" I asked.

Still standing, looking slightly wary, he reached up and ran his thumb down the length of it, then he shrugged. "It's fine."

He'd broken it several weeks ago while racing a dirt bike. He raced whatever type of vehicle he could get his hands on, and it was clear he'd be following in his dad's footsteps. He hadn't been allowed to race while his nose was recovering, and the restriction had made him moodier than usual.

I discreetly wiggled my fingers, remembering that my nails were still wet, and I stole glances at Axel as he moved to his iPod dock. He was wearing a tank top and sweats, and I was distracted and impressed by his muscular arms. Boys in my grade were just that—boys—but Axel's body was more like a man's. He turned the volume back up just as Billie Joe Armstrong's anger segued into something more mournful.

"When will you be able to race?"

He shrugged again. "Soon, I guess." He sat on the end of his bed as the sound of my mom shrieking wafted up through the floor. Yet another loud crash signaled the destruction of something fragile downstairs. "Shit. Your mom is psycho, Kay." His tone was more sympathetic than accusing, but his words pissed me off.

"She was never like this until she married your dad," I said, raising my voice a little.

He shrugged again and we both listened to the argument for a few moments.

"Do you think they'll get divorced?" I asked, not liking how I sounded like a little kid as I posed the question.

"I don't know. Probably."

My mom was Alexander's third wife. I remembered this as I wondered why Axel seemed like he didn't really care about the fighting. I guess he was probably used to it, but I was worried. I'd never known my real dad and had never known divorce. I was fourteen when my mom married Alexander, and though I wasn't looking for a father figure, I was glad to see her happy with him. She had seemed content until about a month ago.

Axel was seventeen now and probably ready to get out of here anyway. His dad was going to make him go to college, though I didn't think Axel wanted to do anything except race.

I had come to my stepbrother's room for company and comfort, but as we sat there in silence, I only became more worried and afraid. I couldn't express my fears to him. If I did, I'd probably cry, and I'd rather have died than cry in front of him. I fought to hold it in, and was poking at my thumbnail, its fresh polish already gouged, when Axel finally spoke.

"Hey."

I looked up to see a rare tender expression reflected in his brown eyes as he looked into mine.

"It'll be okay, Kayla. Don't worry."