I thought I told you to take it easy.

My adrenalin surges.

You’ll get yourself killed.

The world racing by is a total blur.

I don’t want to see your annoyingly good-looking face just yet.

What the fuck?

Jake’s voice, his words, charge through my head like a stampeding heard of elephants, and I yank the accelerator, frowning. The pull of my bike beneath me as I max out the last but one gear is as fierce as first gear. Fucking wicked.

You have something to live for now.

I jerk, only a fraction, but at this speed, a fraction is all it takes. “Fuck,” I curse, fighting with the handlebars, trying to regain control and get myself back in a straight line, automatically easing my grip of the accelerator. I manage to claw back some control and let the bike slow until I’m chugging along at a pathetic forty, getting honked at by cars overtaking me. I blink, shaking my head. “If I have something to live for, why the fuck are you trying to kill me, Jake?” Jesus, that was close.

And get some fucking leathers.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, pulling into a layby to gather myself. “Since when has it been acceptable to talk to me like that?”

Since I’m dead and you’re a fuck-up. And you can’t swing at me.

It’s actually quite a relief to hear my brother and not my bastard conscience. I don’t know what comes over me. I pull off my helmet, and I laugh, leaning forward and using the bars to hold myself up. What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me? My eyes are streaming. My body out of control, jerking with my hysterics. I’m gone. Take me to the fucking loony bin.

I glance around the countryside, and all I see is Jake’s smiling face. He’s happy. Because I’m happy. Where the hell has he been all this time? I dream of him. Think of him. But never has the fucker ever really spoken to me. And he chooses now? Of course he does. Because . . . Ava. “You proud of me, bro?” I ask, pushing my fingertips into my eye sockets. “I’ve found the woman I want to spend eternity with. A good woman.” Okay, a little younger than everyone probably expected, but still. “You’d love her. She’s smart, like you. Ambitious, like you. Sarcastic as fuck and absolutely does not suit swearing.” I smile. “Yeah, you’d love her.”

Great. But twenty-six, Jesse?

I laugh. “Yes, twenty-six.” God, I miss you, Jake. Still. Scrubbing my hands down my cheeks, I look over my shoulder when I hear a car on the gravel behind me. A car I recognize. “Oh, no,” I say quietly, putting my helmet back on with haste. By the time I’m ready to pull off, Freja has parked her Maserati conveniently in front of me.