I debated swinging by the grocery store but decided against it in the end. Again, I’m lazy, and now I’m also tired. I just wanna go home and crash on my bed. Maybe watch some Netflix, though I’m nearly through all the material they offer. Movie-making is kind of a thing of the past, and what’s being produced now isn’t necessarily that great. I think people nowadays watch the news more than anything else. Probably comes from our impending doom. Who knows.

When I park in front of my lovely little house, I hesitate to get out. The humidity is just so freaking bad! And I’m not a sweaty kind of guy, you know? I don’t like the heat in general, but then you go on and add moisture to the air, and it drives me all kinds of nuts.

Still, the worn white wood of my home calls to me. For a lot of people here, this house is to die for. It rests on one of the only pieces of land that still has natural growing pines surrounded by a lawn of vibrant green grass and decorated—by me, of course—with an array of flower beds bringing enough color to ignore the plain paint boasted by the house. After the arid summer heat, the petrichor of the rich soil and grass when the rains first drizzled often drew me out to the porch with a hot cup of coffee and a freshly rolled blunt.

Apparently, this was a house my family had owned for generations before the beginning of the Great Change. Over time, this tiny abode had found itself not far from the sound of the ocean’s rolling waves. It wasn’t necessarily the kind of beachfront property that others might want, considering there wasn’t really…a beach. About a hundred yards from the house was a drop-off cliff that fell to the sea. And below that, the shoreline was lined with a rocky outcrop that would make even the bravest thrill seeker have second, third, and probably fourth thoughts about taking a dive if the second didn’t stop them first.

Grumbling, I finally pulled myself out of my seat and walked up on the porch, turning from the main entrance and walking around to the back door. That’s when I saw it. A newer little red pickup whose owner I hadn’t seen for a while.

Excitement coursed through me. He’d left a while ago for prospects in the Northeast and, though we talked often, I hadn’t seen him in seven years.

Considering he had his own key, the door was already unlocked, but I definitely should have made a show of returning home.

“Oh, come on, guys!” I shout incredulously, my hand immediately slapping itself over my eyes to hide the abomination in my living room. “Fucking, really?”

“Hey, Kil! Didn’t think you’d be home for a while yet.”

“Oh my God! I told you this was a stupid fucking idea!”

“It was hot though, amIright?”

“Just get some fucking clothes on, already,” I nearly growl, slipping back out the door and leaning up against it.

When I reenter, Tamara and my dipshit best friend are both back in their clothes. Tamara looks so embarrassed; I can’t help but feel sorry for her. On the other hand, Blake has the biggest, shit-eating grin I think he can muster, and the urge to smack him rises.

“I’m so, so sorry, Killian,” she says, glaring at her fiance. “It was all his idea. I told him we shouldn’t, but he insisted—”

“Blake is a Class A liar who’s sexy enough to turn off the part of your brain necessary to make logical decisions; it’s okay, love, I know,” I interrupt, walking over and giving her a hug. Her petite frame relaxes in my hold, probably relieved that I’m not about to kill her for having sex on my couch.

“Oh, don’t be that—”

“Shut up and clean my damn couch,” I interrupt whatever Blake’s about to say as I release Tamara. “I want it fucking spotless, you hear?”

Blake’s head rolls back, and he grumbles. “Fine, mom.”

I don’t pay any attention to my idiot best friend as I open one of the storage closets and take out cleaning supplies. After depositing them for Blake’s use, I led Tamara into the kitchen and offer her an ice cream cone.

“So, how’s life with the imbecile?” I ask, smiling around my ice cream. Blake probably heard from the other room, but it’s not like I actually care. After all, I wasn’t fucking someone on his couch.

Tamara is still flushed, her cheeks an angry red. But she manages to answer, “It’s not all that bad. He’s really sweet, and now that we’re living together, he does all kinds of romantic stuff for me.” The redness is fading from her cheeks. “Like last weekend, he had me go out to lunch with one of my friends and spent the day making this huge pillow fort. There were rose petals and wine, and it was just—what?”

I’m sure I have a wide smile on my lips, but I can’t help it. These two idiots are so sickly in love with each other that every story they have to tell makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Nothing,” I respond. “You two are just really fucking adorable.”

She finally manages to smile. “Yeah. I guess we are. When Blake isn’t thinking with his dick, at least.”

I laugh at that, coughing up some ice cream in the process. Tamara could be brutally honest sometimes, and there was never a warning for when that honesty would strike.

“Babe,” Blake whined in the doorway to the kitchen. “Why are you so mean to me?”

Her honest words didn’t keep his arms from snaking around her shoulders as he buried his face in her mess of curly dark brown hair.

“It’s not being mean, it’s being honest. You don’t want your future wife to be a liar, do you?” I say in her defense.

Blake lifts his face so that he can stare harmless daggers in my direction. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t answer.” Now it’s my turn to deliver a shit-eating grin. “Anyways,” I start before we can get into an argument, “what brings you love birds all the way down here? Did you miss me that much?”

At first, I’m excited to hear that they’ve come for a surprise visit. But then their faces fall and a knot of unease forms in my stomach. Tamara and Blake exchange worried glances.

“We knew we had to tell him. That’s why we’re here.”

“I know,” Blake replies as if I’m not standing a meter away.

“Guys?” I ask, though my voice isn’t probably what you’d consider friendly. “This is freaking me out. I need answers. Like, now.” It’s pretty well known that I can be pushy and impatient with the people I care about. But, I don’t like being left on a cliff to dangle, especially if it’s something serious.

Tamara gives Blake a kiss of encouragement and he finally looks me in the eye. “We came to visit one last time,” he starts, and my heart is already racing. “Tamara wants to go to the equator and help with the research they’re doing there. I’m going with her.”

I stare at them for a few moments before laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I giggle, rubbing the tears from my eyes. “Man, I can’t believe you had me worried over a prank.”

Instead of laughing, Blake’s dark eyes only grow darker and Tamara’s troubling her lower lip.

“This isn’t a joke, Kil,” Blake snaps.

Tamara rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We really are serious about this, Killian.”

Those joyful tears are turning to horrified ones. I knew when they’d stated their intentions that it was true. Blake never took on that kind of tone if he wasn’t telling the absolute truth. But, I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want them to go to such a dangerous place to help some idiot scientists that think they can stop the poisonous forest from growing larger. I don’t want to know that any day I could get a phone call informing me of their deaths. I just…I can’t. Not again.

“What about your degree? You were only a semester away from being a lawyer. What happened to that?”

Blake grimaced. “I was never going to law school,” he admitted, bringing on a fresh wave of pain with the knowledge that he’d been lying to me for well over four years. “I went to school for plant sciences, particularly plant pathology and plant micro-biology. I wanted to make a differ—”

“So what? You lied to me?” I ask, my voice dangerously quiet. I’m a loud and obnoxious son of a bitch so if my voice drops, that’s when something’s wrong.

“Kil, we—”

“Sorry, Tammy, I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from giving any kind of excuse, alright. I need to know why Blake thought it was okay to lie to my face for so many fucking years,” I say, my eyes flicking from her to my best friend. “Especially considering everything he already knows.” I shouldn’t have tacked that on, I know. But, right now, I’m furious. And I have little care of hurting my best friend’s feelings.

“Killian, don’t be like that,” Blake requests, his own voice soft, almost a whimper.

It doesn’t phase me in the slightest. “I. Want. Answers,” I harshly reiterate. “Now.”

Tamara grabs his hand, giving it a squeeze. Blake looks to her, probably for some kind of strength. After all, if he’d been lying to me, she was definitely guilty of helping. When his dark eyes return to me, his lips part and I listen quietly to the story that started them on this path.