Crave Part Two - E.K. Blair

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Crave Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Epilogue From the Author Acknowledgements



Crave, Part Two Copyright © 2017 E.K. Blair

Cover Design: E.K. Blair Editor: Ashley Williams, Adept Edits Interior Design: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design

ISBN: 978-0-9963970-9-4

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,) without the prior written permission in writing.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

All rights reserved.

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Crave Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Epilogue From the Author Acknowledgements Other Titles by E.K. Blair

To the suffering You are not beyond saving.





Tears meld with the water as it falls from the showerhead above. Never has my heart felt so heavy, dangling by a thread as it hangs with burden inside the ribs that are supposed to protect it. It swells in agony, and even though the water is scorching hot, I barely feel it. I can’t stop shaking. Bones tremble. Muscles weep. Veins beg for mercy. Bracing my hands against the shower wall, I drop my head beneath the spray as Lana, my dormmate, sleeps in her bed on the other side of the bathroom door. Silently, I cry. For what? I’m not quite sure. Water streams down my face and bleeds into my eyes, but it doesn’t wash away the fog from last night. It brings no clarity at all. But do I want it to? Do I want to know the details? I think I may have cheated on Kason last night. I mean, everything is pointing in that direction, but memory won’t serve me. It denies me everything I need and everything I don’t. How could I have done this? How could I have been so stupid as to get so drunk that I don’t even remember how I woke up in a strange room with my pants off, a used condom on the floor, and a naked guy next to me? I didn’t even bother to roll him over to see who he was, but I’m pretty certain it was Liam, the frat guy who I had been hanging out with. But why? Why on earth would I do such a thing when I love Kason so much? When I have absolutely no desire to be with anyone but him—forever? I collapse onto the cold, hard tile, and my knees scream out in pain, reminding me of the horrible person I am.

You aren’t a horrible person. And again, why? You did nothing wrong. Nothing makes sense. I’m without breath as I fight to hold in my sobs, every beat of my heart aching more than the one before. Pinching my eyes shut, I plead for a clue, a hint . . . anything from last night that will help me remember what the hell actually happened. But there’s nothing. Only blank space and negative light that shines upon emptiness. How can I not remember anything—anything? Did I really become that lustful to destroy everything I have with Kason? You aren’t the culprit. You’re the victim. I shake my head and ball myself tighter on the floor of the shower, because no. No! The voice inside my head is terrifying, causing my heart to hammer off beat. I pinch my eyes shut and wish the horrific thoughts away, because how can it be if I can’t even recall the hows and whys? As repulsive as it may be, my cheating on Kason could very well have happened. It didn’t. I saw the evidence. I saw the ugliness with my own eyes. It cut like razors, and I couldn’t grab my clothes and run out of there fast enough. I ran and ran, lungs burning, legs on fire. I bolted across campus to my dorm. And now here I am, broken on the bottom of this strange shower with nothing left of my dignity. No longer do I feel wholesome, which was something I was so proud to be. I loved that I could give purity and goodness to Kason. Now, I’m tarnished and cheap. He violated you. My stomach curls in on itself at the thought. Hunched over, I send my tears right down the drain as they pour out of me. I remain unmoving as the water runs cold, taking in the icy abuse on my naked body I don’t want anymore. It pelts and lashes, and I shiver and flinch in its torment until I can’t bear its punishment any longer. Reaching up, I shut the water off, but I’m not quick to stand. I couldn’t possibly be more disgusted with myself than I am in this moment, so I hold myself in my arms, desperate for consoling. Not even a solid twenty-four hours at college, and everything is so screwed. I should have never moved out. I should have never gone with Lana to that stupid party. I should have never given Liam the time of day. More than anything, I should have never left the safety of Kason’s bed yesterday afternoon. I’m jolted by a knock on the door.

“Ady?” Lana’s sleepy voice questions. “Give me one minute.” Mustering all the strength I can, I stand, grab my towel, and quickly dry myself off, all the while feeling as if I’m drowning. Pulling the shower curtain back, I step out and over to the sink before wiping my hand across the fog-covered mirror. My face is splotchy from crying, but when Lana knocks again, saying, “I have to pee,” I wrap the towel around myself, duck my head, and open the door. “Oh, thank god,” she mutters, rushing in and closing the door, not even looking my way. Tossed out of the bathroom so abruptly by Lana, my pulse races to adjust to a slower tempo as I throw on some clothes. I do my best to feign normalcy when she walks back into the room. “You’re up early.” She crawls back into her bed and tucks herself under her covers. “Is this, like, a thing for you?” “I don’t even know what time it is.” She picks up her phone and then dramatically drops her head onto her pillow. “Girl, it’s barely seven thirty.” I begin brushing through my wet tangles, hoping she’ll go back to sleep. She doesn’t. “So, what happened to you last night? You totally disappeared on me.” “What are you doing sitting out here by yourself?” I remember Liam saying while I was waiting on Lana outside the sorority house. “Come on. You don’t want to spend your night sitting out here, do you?” I’d gone with him to his frat house, and I’d run into Rhett there. “I ran into a friend I went to high school with.” As soon as I say the words, a new memory blooms. Rhett was with me. We were sitting on a couch and talking. But everything dissolves when Lana speaks again. “I was looking all over for you. I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.” Why didn’t I give her my number? If I had done that, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Why can’t I remember what happened? My throat constricts, and I quickly swallow back painful tears before I lose my composure. God, this hurts so bad. Everything inside me is screaming for Kason. To get in my car and speed as fast as I can just to feel the comfort of his arms around me. But I can’t. I want to so badly, but what would I even say? I could never tell him the truth. I don’t even know the truth. He’d never look at me the same way. He’d hate me if he knew another man had me. My gut gurgles in rancid thoughts, and I leap off the bed, dart across the room, and nearly miss the toilet as misery barrels up my throat. I heave violently, my body hating me

for all that’s now destroyed. “Ady, are you okay?” Tears coat my cheeks as another expulsion knots my stomach, one, two, three times until I’m limp and crying on the floor, wanting only one thing—Kason. Lana flushes the toilet before handing me a cold, wet washcloth. “Are you hung over?” I nod, but truth is, I don’t know, and that thought alone scares me. I stare up at the cheap fluorescent lighting, my head, nothing but a swarm of blurry images. Pieces that don’t fit together do nothing but upset me further, and I wish it would all just go away. I want to go back and change the course of yesterday. I should’ve never left Kason. Why didn’t I just stay with him? But I did leave, and now everything is all wrong and I’m stuck here with Lana, who’s nothing but a stranger. Lana steps out of the bathroom, and by the time I sit up and wipe my tears, she’s back with my cell phone in her hand. “Here,” she says as she holds it out for me, and as soon as I see Kason’s name on the screen, I panic. A few hiccups remain from my crying, and with Lana staring at me, I cautiously bring the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I say, but my voice is all wrong. “I’m on my way to the office and wanted to call and see how last night went. Did you have fun?” “Mm-hmm.” It’s all I can manage as my face pinches, and I drop my head to my knees in absolute tormenting pain. His laugh is light. “That’s all I get? Come on, babe.” I should say something. I need to say something—anything—but I’m terrified that if I open my mouth, I’ll burst out into gut-wrenching sobs. “Are you there?” I nod, even though I know it’ll never get to him. “Adaline? Are you okay?” I swallow hard, and as agonizing as it is, I speak around the lump lodged in my throat, saying quickly, “I can’t talk right now,” and then ending the call. Before he can call me back, I turn off my phone and look up at Lana, who’s standing in the doorway and staring at me in confusion. “Everything all right?” Needing space, I stand. “It’s fine,” I tell her before turning on the faucet and doing a quick brushing of my teeth. As soon as I rinse and spit, I walk over to my desk area and

grab my keys. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?” “I’ll be back later,” I mutter before the door closes behind me. My head fills with loud static as I rush down the hall, in desperate need of air so that I can finally get in a decent breath. When I hit the stairs, I feel the walls closing in on me, and I can’t get out of here fast enough. I push through the doors on the ground floor, and the bright morning sun stings my salt-ridden eyes. I squint as I pick up the pace, and soon enough, I’m in my car, heading west to the shore. With my phone still off, I’m no longer on the grid, which is exactly what I need right now. I lower my windows to take in some much-needed air, and then crank up the stereo to help drown out the thoughts that have been torturing me ever since I woke up to this nightmare.



Laughter and excitement fill the busy street that hugs the beach. I’m lost among a mixture of tourists and locals who are out enjoying the last days of summer vacation. They move about so easily while I’m submerged in a paralyzing state of despair, roaming aimlessly in and out of souvenir shops. I go in every store and wander down every aisle, as if I have purpose for being here other than to numb my mind from internal whispers I’m too terrified to face. It isn’t just my thoughts I’m trying to escape, though. It’s also Kason. Two seconds was all it took for him to sense that something was wrong with me. I don’t even have to be in his presence for him to read me, that’s how entwined we’ve become. Before, that was everything. Now, it’s nothing but something else for me to run from. There hasn’t been anything we haven’t been able to share with each other, but this? This isn’t something I want anyone to know about, especially him. I mean, I was supposed to be going out to a sorority party with my new roommate, not hanging out alone at a frat house with some guy I don’t even know. If the situation were reversed, I’d be so mad at Kason. At the same time, I don’t want to lie to him after he’s been so honest with me about the mistakes he’s made. This wasn’t a mistake. I shake my head to rid the thought that’s a thousand times scarier than my believing that I was the one responsible for all of this . . . that I stepped outside of our relationship. Lunch comes and goes. I can’t even think about eating with my stomach twisted in unrelenting knots. Lazily, I make my way over to Beach Walk and roam around for a long while before finding an empty bench to sit on. The afternoon sun beats down on me as I watch families and children, couples and singles enjoying their day in the sand and salt while I melt away in desolation. I feel invisible, even though the passing glances a few people give me tell me I’m not. Sweat drips down my back, and the heat is almost too much, but I can’t bring myself

to move. So I sit. That’s all I do as minutes slip into hours, shifting the day into the evening. Lightheaded and still a little woozy from whatever alcohol I consumed last night, I walk to the other side of the pier and purchase a Gatorade from a small gelato stand. I take the drink with me as I make my way over to the beach, kick off my flip-flops, and sit before sinking my feet into the warm sand. My first sip has sweetness hitting my tongue . . . “What is this?” “Some stupid punch one of the brothers threw together. It tasted like juice, so I figured you’d like it.” As soon as I hear Liam’s voice in my head, I can taste the fruity cocktail he had given me. Pulling my knees up, I drop my head and close my eyes as I strain to remember just how much of that punch I drank, but all I can recall is just that one. It doesn’t add up. I would’ve had to drink more for my hangover to be this bad. My heart hits a beat too hard, and my eyes pop open when realization strikes like a sucker punch. When I had gotten drunk at Trent’s party during junior year, I didn’t black out at all and my hangover was so much worse than the one I have right now. I can still picture that night and the details it holds. There is memory after the first, second, and even third drink, so why is there nothing left after my first drink from last night? “Oh my god,” I whisper to myself when I consider that something might have been slipped into my drink. I mean, you hear about stuff like that happening. But to me? What are the chances? The swell of tears in my eyes burn, and I hold on to my breath for strength because I don’t want to cry. I refuse. If I let these tears fall, it will give truth to the horror they hold. A guy hollers, and it draws my attention to a group of skimmers down by the water. I watch as one of them runs, drops the board, and hops on to ride up into a small wave. He falls off the board and splashes into the water, and when I blink, I see a flash of Kason, which reminds me why I’m out here. Why I’m hiding. My phone burns a hole in my pocket, and I’m sure he’s freaking out about not being able to get ahold of me. But I can’t face him—not yet anyway. I have to pull myself together enough so that he won’t sense that my whole world is off its axis. I have no idea what I’m doing—there’s no plan. I’m totally lost. All I want is for all of this to disappear and for everything to go back to normal. Normal. That’s what I have to be. That’s the only plan there is, because if there’s no normal, then there’s no us. Kason and I have dealt with our fair share of issues, we don’t need another one to come in and threaten what we’ve been able to build together. Taking in a deep breath, I tell myself to toughen up. To pull myself together and not let what I can’t change destroy me. Whatever happened, happened, and I won’t allow it to keep me from loving Kason.

I look out at the sun’s rays casting their flames over the rippling water and force my mind to think about all the good Kason brings to my life. I compel the thoughts to consume me and to leave no room for anything else—only him. I drift back to our first kiss on this very beach, remembering the swarm of butterflies he set loose while I anxiously waited for his lips to touch mine. I had known I’d never be the same after that kiss, and I was right. I love him. So, I vow not to let whatever happened last night to take away what we have. It isn’t just me; it’s Kason, too. He needs me just as much as I need him, and for that, I have to find the strength to bury this and to move forward. There’s no way of doing this without lying to him. When I think about the damage the truth could do to the both of us, this lie doesn’t seem that bad. Maybe this lie won’t only save me, but him as well. When the sun finally touches the water, I pull my phone from my pocket and silently tell myself that I can do this. I have to do this. I’ve been hiding out here all day, but I can’t hide forever. I turn my phone back on, and when the screen illuminates, I come face to face with Kason’s worry. Seven missed calls and a slew of text messages. I could read through them, but I spare myself any more guilt. With one last deep breath, I convince myself that I’m doing the right thing, straighten my spine, and call him. After only one ring, he answers frantically, “Jesus Christ, are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “I’ve been calling you all day. I went to your dorm, but you weren’t there, so I drove to your house. Where have you been?” His voice is panicked against my fake steady one when I respond, “I’m sorry. I’ve been out shopping. My phone died, and I didn’t even realize it until a little while ago.” “I called you right after you hung up on me this morning. It went straight to voice mail.” He pretty much calls me out on my crappy lie and forces me to think on my toes and fast. “I know. Lana was upset about some stuff back home, and when you called, I declined it. I shouldn’t have rushed off the phone like I did and then send you to voice mail, but she was crying and . . . it was just bad timing.” He lets out a frustrated sigh as my pulse races with anxiety, wondering if he can tell I’m full of crap. There’s a long pause before he says in a much softer tone, “You had me worried about you all day.”

“I’m sorry.” “Where are you now?” With the waves rolling in and the seagulls squawking, I don’t even consider making up a story, so I tell him, “I’m at the beach over in Clearwater.” “Clearwater? What are you doing there?” “I wanted to watch the sunset.” There’s another break before he asks, “Are you sure everything is okay?” I strain to release an air-light chuckle and then do my best to assure him. “Yes. I promise, I’m fine.” “When the sun is gone, will you come over? I miss you.” There’s no controlling the tightening of unease in my tummy, but I give him my normal, regardless of my hesitations. “Yeah. I’ll be over in a bit.” We say our I love yous before ending the call, and I stay true to my word, hopping in my car after the sun has disappeared. While driving to his apartment, I try my best to convince myself that everything is, in fact, okay. That if I can force normal, eventually this mess will fade away like a bad memory. By the time I park in front of his apartment building, my palms are already sweaty with nerves. It feels as if I’m seeing him for the first time and I don’t know how to act. I take a minute to calm down, telling myself that no matter what, no matter my fakery, it’s him and only him that I truly want and need in this moment. That maybe, just maybe, his arms hold the power of an erasure. Keeping that notion at the forefront gives me the strength I need to go to him for the comfort I’ve needed all day. Anxiously, I knock, and when he opens the door, he takes me by surprise, gathering me in his arms before I can wrap mine around him first. There’s an unspoken need between the two of us as we hold each other, and it takes every ounce of my energy not to crumble and cry. His touch soothes my frayed edges he’s clueless to, and my heart grows needy for more of the relief his touch is providing me right now. I cling more urgently to him as he backs us into the apartment and kicks the door shut. My lungs flood with his scent, making my eyes prick with tears as I nuzzle in closer. His hands come to my face and angle me to look at him. With concern etched in his furrowed brows, I veil the truth to my needy affection and force a smile. “I’m so sorry I worried you.” He just shakes his head, dismissing my apology. “I shouldn’t have lost my cool like I did. I didn’t mean to upset you.” “It’s fine.” I want to believe in those two words. They seem so simple, but they’re not. It’s nearly impossible to think about everything being fine when I’m falling apart on the inside. But I want it—I want to be fine so badly I’d do almost anything to feel that way again. I wish I could rewind time so that last night never happened. His lips drop to mine as he holds me close, and I want nothing more than to get lost in him. My mind won’t let me as thoughts begin to torment.

Were my lips on Liam’s like they’re on Kason’s right now? Did I kiss him? Did I let him hold me? Kason pushes his fingers into my hair, and I wonder if Liam’s did the same. Remorse and fear for the unknown twist my gut, and I throw myself even deeper into the kiss as I search for escapement. My eagerness fuels Kason to want more when he lifts me off my feet and walks us straight to his bedroom. My soul is frantic, and I waste no time slipping off his shorts and briefs before crawling between his legs. There’s no cuddling, no sweet words, no loving caresses, only me rushing for sanctity when I slide my lips over him. “Fuck.” He breathes loudly as I suck and glide my tongue along him. I close my eyes, and instantly regret doing so when I see Liam’s face behind my lids. My heart misses a beat and then double thumps to catch up. I open my eyes and keep them fixed on Kason as he lies back. I do my best to convince myself that this is what needs to be happening, because this is what Kason and I do. It’s our normal, and it’s what I need to make the hell of last night go away. I’m desperate to believe that if I love him hard enough, eventually everything else will lose its power, that our love will diminish my unholiness. You did nothing unholy. Liam drugged you. My stomach convulses, and my hands grip around Kason’s thighs as I gag with him still in my mouth, but I don’t stop. His head pops off the pillow, and he looks down at me. I close my eyes, hiding from Kason’s silent question, but Liam is still there, and I gag once more, my back heaving as I do. Kason pushes my shoulders away, but I don’t relent, so he uses more force. “Adaline, stop.” I can’t even look at him as I sit on my heels, knowing that if I do, the tears that my lids are holding back will fall. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and the next second has him pulling me into his lap. I tuck my head under his chin, hiding myself and trying to buy enough time to gather my composure. I’m far too close to teetering over the knife’s edge of a breakdown. “Don’t lie to me and tell me nothing’s wrong when, clearly, something is.” Needing so badly to expel the pain I’ve been holding in, but too scared to say the words, I go for the first excuse that comes to mind. “Nothing feels the same anymore.” I then open my eyes, and the heat of my tears drops down my cheeks. Kason draws back and lifts my chin up to him. “Why are you crying?” “Because . . . what if with all this change, we change, too?” “Babe,” he says on a heavy breath. “Is that what you’re worried about? That something is going to happen to us?” I nod because it’s the cold hard truth. If he ever found out about last night, we’d be

torn apart. He cradles my face in his strong hands and fervently proclaims, “I love you. I couldn’t love anyone more.” He presses his lips to my tear-stained ones. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Sheepishly, I nod. “There’s nothing that would ever make me stop loving you. You need to know that. And you have no reason to ever think that something could happen to us, because I would never let that happen.” But I do have a reason—a reason that could very well be the thing that could end us. If he knew the disgrace I now wear on my skin—the disgrace that’s now inside my body— he’d never be able to look at me with the loving adoration he is right now. It would forever be gone, and I would be forever tarnished in his eyes.



I wound up making love to Kason last night. There was no way I could deny him. What happened wasn’t his fault, and knowing how badly he struggles with his incessant sexual needs, all I want to do is take care of him. Plus, I thought it would help rid me of my guilt. It didn’t. And it didn’t soothe my need for comfort, either, because after we finished, I only felt more needy, more dirty, and more shameful. Without anywhere else to turn, I decided to stay the night with him, hoping his arms wrapped around me would help. That I would wake without so much dread weighing on me. That didn’t happen, either. I woke over an hour ago, and it’s only now that Kason stirs behind me as he holds me close to him. His erection presses against my bottom, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through having sex with him again. Being so emotionally drained made last night easier to deal with, but I’ve spent the last hour dwelling on what happened at the frat house and dissecting everything in order to try to regain my memory. I’m still left with empty space, though. I’ve lost hours upon hours of time, and I’m scared I won’t ever get them back. I’m also scared I will get them back. I’m terrified of what they hold, of what the truth really is. Kason’s lips press against the nape of my neck before he releases a soft moan and runs his hand down my side and over my hip. Then he stops. “Why did you put your shorts back on?” “Because it felt weird knowing your mom would be back here this morning,” I lie. Truth is, I didn’t know if I could stomach waking up without any pants on again, so I slipped them back on after Kason fell asleep. He lifts his hand to my bare breast and palms me gently with a chuckle under his breath, teasing, “But it didn’t feel weird to leave your top off?” He then drops a few kisses along my shoulder as he presses his hips against me, making no secret to what he wants.

No, that isn’t true. It’s what he needs, and we both know it. I just don’t know if I can, but I’ve never, not once, denied him unless I was in too much physical pain due to the strain his drive puts on my body. Even though I love him beyond measure and all I want is to ease his unyielding urgency, there’s so much pressure bearing down on me I can barely breathe. His hand slips down my shorts and into my panties, and I grab his wrist, feigning lightness when I tell him, “Kason, your mother is in the next room.” “I’ll lose my hard-on if I think about that.” I scoot forward to put a little space between us. “I’m serious. We’re not doing anything with her across the hall.” “We’ll be quiet, then,” he pushes, and when I roll over to face him, he’s wearing a sly grin. “No way.” His face straightens when he realizes I’m being serious. He nods and, scorned by embarrassment, drops his eyes from me and mutters, “Give me a couple of minutes,” as he gets out of bed. “Wait.” He pulls on a pair of shorts. “It’s okay. I don’t expect you to always—” “Just . . .” He turns to look at me, and I hate that, no matter if we do this or not, one of us will be left feeling the burn of shame. But I would rather it be me than him. I owe him at least that much with the secret I now hold. “Just lock the door, okay?”

“I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up,” Lana says when I walk into our dorm room. She takes in my disheveled look and my clothes, which are the same ones I left in yesterday, and then she smiles. “I take it you were with the boyfriend all night?” I ignore her inquisition as I pull out some fresh clothes to change into. “How long until orientation starts?” “About an hour.” “I’m going to take a quick shower. Kason is down at the Bursar’s office and will be coming here when he’s done, so if I’m still in the bathroom, could you let him in?” “Sure thing.” I rush and hop in the shower, quickly washing my hair so I can look presentable for the freshman orientation. Kason has taken off work, and I hope that with so much to do today before classes start after the weekend, I’ll be distracted into some semblance of normalcy.

By the time I dry off, get dressed, and walk back into the room, Kason is already here and sitting on my bed, talking with Lana. Their conversation is surface, discussing their favorite bands as I blow dry my hair, throw on a touch of makeup, and slip on a pair of flip-flops. “Damn, girl. That was fast!” Kason looks to me while responding to Lana’s comment, saying, “I love that she’s low maintenance.” His smile is beautiful, and for a split second, I lose myself in it. The moment fades fast, but it’s enough to give me a glimmer of hope that maybe, with time, that second will turn into forever and I can leave this mess behind me. The three of us head down to the Student Center, where rows and rows of tables are set up, each occupied with various clubs and organizations that are eager to recruit new members. Kason and I pass through it in no time, but Lana lingers and picks up pamphlets. We make it to the orientation, sit through a few speakers, break for lunch, and continue. Two hours later, we are reminded of the beach themed party later tonight. “How original,” I scoff with a smile. “We’re going, right?” As excited as Lana seems about the party, there’s no way I will ever attend one again. “Count me out.” “You don’t want to go?” Kason questions, taking my hand as we file out of the building. I shake my head, and Lana practically whines, “Come on. You can’t make me go alone.” “I’m just not into it.” She shrugs. “That’s okay. I think Gia from across the hall is going. I’m sure I can tag along with her.” She skips ahead a few steps before saying, “I’ll catch you later?” “Yeah, maybe.” Then she jogs off in the direction of the dorms as Kason and I head over to the university bookstore. “You sure you don’t want to go?” “Why? Do you?” His lips twist arrogantly. “A school sponsored freshman party? Fuck no.” He makes me laugh. “You sound like Trent.” “I wouldn’t be surprised if that kid even bothered to show up for his orientation. But seriously, don’t let me stop you if you want to go.” “I don’t. I just want to be with you tonight.” He slips his arm around my shoulders, tucks me against his side, and drops a kiss to

my forehead as we stroll across campus and into the bookstore. Each aisle is packed with students trying to snag the last of the used books so they don’t have to spend a fortune for the new ones, and I kick myself for not buying them sooner like Kason did. I drop my humanity’s book into the basket Kason is carrying for me. “I think that’s the last one.” Weaving our way over to the registers, my heart nearly catapults into my throat when I spot Liam walking in my direction. I clam up in an instant and can barely breathe when his eyes catch mine. He smiles, and I stop dead in my tracks when he approaches, as if what I woke to the other morning was just a figment of my imagination. “Hey,” he greets when he steps over to me. “Ady, right?” I can’t do anything but stare in shock, frozen solid as chaos erupts from every corner of my body. “You two know each other?” Kason’s voice cuts through my silent panic. I nod, choking back an anxious swallow and forcing myself to speak. “Umm, yeah. Moving day, right?” Liam wears a cocky smile and nods along with me. “Right. So, how are you settling in?” There is a band pulling tight around my ribcage, cracking bones and sending shards into my maniacally thundering heart. And I know. In this very moment, I just know. It’s the sharp blade of intuition that plunges through every vessel in my body, and in a way I can’t explain, I feel his violation slicing through me. “Adaline?” I jerk my head up to Kason when he says my name, and I try to force myself to snap out of my trance, but I can’t. Kason gives me a curious look, and as hard as I try to speak, nothing happens. “Sorry, man. I’m Liam.” He reaches out his hand to Kason, and a current of ice swims through me when they shake. “Kason,” he responds. “Adaline’s boyfriend.” “Good to meet you.” My skin pricks cold and damp, and a wash of lightheadedness sweeps over me as I stare in horror at the guy who . . . who . . . “Oh my god.” My hand flies over my mouth, and I bolt, running as fast as I can to the nearest bathroom. Bumping shoulders with everyone around me, I can’t push pass them fast enough. The moment I fly through the door of the restroom, I lock it behind me and bury my head into my palms. My chest heaves, and I swear to God that it feels as if my

heart is about to explode into a million splinters. Bending forward, I brace my hands on my knees, and the tears simply fall right out of me. His hands are all over my skin in phantom pressure that causes my vision to blur. I can’t catch my breath as reality melts into a hazy cloud, sending me straight to the floor. What did he do to me? What the hell happened? Think, Ady! There’s nothing in me but blank visions and the invisible truth screaming that he forced himself on me. That I didn’t get drunk. That I didn’t cheat. That I didn’t want whatever it was he did to me. There’s nothing I have to go on, but everything inside me is screaming that he hurt me in a way I can’t identify. There’s a knock against the door I’m huddled against, followed by, “Is anyone in there?” “Umm . . . one second.” My voice is shaky at best, and even though my pulse is firing at rapid speed, I have no other choice but to compose myself as best as I can. My knees wobble beneath me when I push myself off the floor, and I quickly wipe my cheeks before taking in the slowest breath I can manage. A quick glance in the mirror tells me my face is a bit splotchy, but I’m sure I can lie my way into a believable excuse if Kason asks. I’ll simply tell him that I’m not feeling well. I open the door to find a tall brunette giving me the rude eye, and I drop my head, muttering, “Sorry.” I’m on edge as I walk back over to where I left Kason, hoping and praying that Liam is no longer there. Every step I take births a new fear that he’s still somewhere in this crowd of people, so I keep my chin tucked down long enough to find Kason. “There you are,” he says, quickly enveloping me under his one arm, and I go to him freely because I’m scared of everything at this point. “Hey,” his tone is soft, “is everything okay?” I nod, my arms clinging around his waist as I deceive him even more. “I don’t feel well. Can we just go?” “Yeah, of course.” With his arm around me, I refuse to unclench myself around him as we wait in line to purchase my textbooks. He doesn’t question my neediness. Why would he? It looks like the affection I give him on any other normal day. But just because it looks the same doesn’t mean it feels the same. It doesn’t. There’s so much fright rattling me from the inside that I swear I can taste its existence on the back of my tongue. Every time I hear a guy’s voice, I startle, scared it’s Liam and that he’s still here. As soon as we pay, Kason grabs the bag, and we head out. My palm sweats against his as we walk across campus.

“Do you want to go back to your room?” “Would you mind if we go to your place instead?” We make a pit stop at the dorms so I can pack an overnight bag, and five minutes later, I’m following him to his apartment in my own car. His mother has already left for her night job when we get there, so I go straight to his room, kick off my flip-flops, and tuck myself under his blankets. “Do you need anything?” he questions, and when I shake my head, he shrugs his shirt off and gets into bed with me. Cocooned in his strong arms, I soak in as much of his warmth as I can, but it doesn’t do anything to calm me. Shaken to the core, to the very essence of who I am—who I was —I have to choke back the tears when I realize that I no longer recognize myself. It’s as if, somewhere within that night, I was stolen. Whatever it was Liam did to me ripped away everything good in me, only leaving dirt and grime behind. I’ve never really had the need to wash away sins the way I do now. I feel every grit of disgust he left me with. It fills all the vacant holes that used to be occupied with my selfworth and dignity. The purity I saved and gave to Kason, only to have someone come into the night and steal it away. If Kason knew the stain of defilement I now wear on the inside, it would no doubt diminish the value he finds in me. I love that he’s the one and only guy who has ever touched me, ever truly kissed me, and to be the first to have me so intimately. It’s always been something special to the both of us, and now—now it means nothing because I acted so stupidly. Why did I ever give Liam the time of day? How could I have been so dumb as to take that drink from him? Before I even know what’s happening, my lips are all over Kason, in dire need for him to take it all away. To vanquish everything by covering me in his touch so that Liam’s touches no longer exist. I throw myself at him, peeling off my clothes and tugging him to roll on top of me. Breathless and eager, there’s no room for words, and when I open my legs for him and urge his hips down to me, he fills me completely. I sling my arms around his neck and hold him as closely as I can, but this doesn’t feel right. My heart doesn’t beat right. My breaths don’t sound right. His touch is all wrong because in my head, it isn’t Kason—it’s Liam stealing away something that was never supposed to be anyone’s but Kason’s. I’m so far away from this moment that I’m no longer in this bed, but his. No longer wrapped in Kason’s arms, but his. No longer having sex with my boyfriend, but him. My stomach coils, and I grow nauseous. I can’t even move. I can’t even breathe. And when Kason stills above me with a panicstricken face and says with profound worry, “Baby, you’re crying,” I can’t even speak. He runs the backs of his fingers along my cheeks, collecting tears I didn’t even know

were there. “Adaline, please,” he begs. “Tell me what’s going on.” But I can’t. Because I love him. I love him with every chemical in my body. Every drop of blood my heart pumps is for him. I would never be so foolish as to ruin everything we have together, but he’s still inside me when I wish he wasn’t. His touch is no longer his, and I need it off of me. I want to push him away, but I can’t. All I can manage to do is nothing. I lie unmoving beneath him, staring into eyes filled with confusion and concern as he questions, “What is it?” When I can’t endure his skin touching mine any longer, I press my hands against his chest, murmuring weakly, “I don’t want to be doing this.” He pulls out of me and rolls to his side while keeping me in his arms. “God, babe, did I hurt you?” Yes. “No.” “I need you to talk to me. I need to know what has you acting so strange, and don’t tell me it’s because this change is hard on you because I’m not buying it.” “Can we just not talk?” His lips press to my forehead, and I can feel the pain in his voice when he says, “Please don’t do that. Don’t shut down on me.” Another tear slips out, trails down the side of my face, and drips onto his arm that’s holding me. I’m at a complete loss as to what I could say that would explain my behavior, but I know he isn’t going to let this go. So, I decide to speak honestly, telling him, “I love you. I really do love you,” as I curl into him. He strengthens his grip on me. “I love you, too. But something isn’t right here, and I wish you would talk to me. If it’s me . . . if it’s something I’ve done . . .” “You didn’t do anything.” But I did. I went to a party with a boy when I shouldn’t have. I drank when I shouldn’t have. And maybe, in my obscure state of mind, I led him on when I shouldn’t have. But I don’t know, because I don’t remember anything. Nothing remains of this night. We leave all words unspoken. Both of us in two very different states of uncertainty as we cling with silent hope that we aren’t fracturing. Never have I felt as uncomfortable with Kason as I do right now. Seeing Liam today triggered a multitude of emotions inside me. It’s fear and disgust at its purest form, seeping into my bloodstream and becoming a part of me. It’s the undying voices that have convinced me that Liam took advantage of me in a way I’m too scared to imagine. And it’s the realization that no matter how much I attach myself to Kason, our love isn’t strong

enough to wash this disgrace away.



Kason fell asleep hours ago, but I still lie awake—haunted. It’s no longer the two of us because the ghost of Liam is ever present. He’s in my head. He’s everywhere I am. He’s in this very room. I can’t sleep because I’m scared to be unconscious, to not be in control, to not know what happens between the time I close my eyes and open them again. My imagination is my worst enemy. It recycles my fears like a never-ending revolving door to which there is no escape. I’ve been lying here most of the night with the flashlight on my phone turned on because I’m frightened of the dark—of what I can’t see—of lost time and vanquished memories. I can’t lose anymore, so I stay awake with my pitiful nightlight, but it hardly comforts. I flinch every time Kason rolls over or rustles the sheets beneath him, and I have to tell myself to calm down, that no one else is in this room except the two of us. It doesn’t matter how many times I say those words, every move he makes, every sound, every everything, startles me. But it’s when I hear a door closing and footsteps coming down the hallway that I jackknife. With my hand clutched against my chest in a feeble attempt to keep my heart from busting loose, I watch Kason’s door, terrified of the slice of light that pours under it. A shadow passes by, the light goes off, and I hear his mother’s door close. It’s only his mom coming home from work. I drop my hand and fist the sheets as I let go of a strangled breath. My heart beats so hard that I can feel it reverberating in my throat, and all I want to do is run—fast and far— away from here. Away from everything. I look over to Kason to make sure he’s still sound asleep before easing my way off the mattress. Using the light from my phone, I pad across the room, find my flip-flops, and quietly slip them into my overnight bag. Very slowly, I turn the knob on the door before opening it just as silently as I close it behind me. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I tiptoe through the small apartment and out the door, leaving it unlocked behind me as I

rush to my car. I try not to let the guilt of what I’m doing bring me down any more than what I already am. I just couldn’t stay trapped in that dark room for another second. I drive into the night to the only place I can think to go that might offer me a sense of safety long enough to get some rest. It takes thirty minutes to reach my house, and when I pull into my driveway, it’s after three in the morning. Not wanting to wake my mother, I open the home security app on my cell and type in the code to deactivate the alarm. Then, just as I did at Kason’s apartment, I quietly ease my way inside and up the stairs to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me as the familiar scent of home consumes me. There’s an immediate emotional reaction that expands in my much too frail body. Without hesitation, I weep my way straight over to the bed and crawl in. Hugging my pillow to my chest, I cry quiet tears while praying to God to help me through this. It feels like hours that I bargain with Him, apologize to Him, and promise Him that I’ll be better, do better, commit to my faith better. Desperate pleas consume every inch of my room until the air becomes too thick to breathe and the walls close in on me and fear makes its presence known. I hop out of bed to flip on the bathroom light and then crack my door open before tucking myself under the covers, only to find that I’m just as scared in my bed as I had been in Kason’s. The only difference is that when I wake up, I won’t have to face his questions, I won’t have to lie. And because of that alone, I feel like a tiny piece of weight has been taken off me. Shallow sleep eventually finds me, but it’s short-lived and only comes in spurts that don’t even last a solid thirty minutes before I wake with my gut eating away at me. Eventually, the black outside my window begins to transform into midnight blue, growing lighter slowly as the sun returns to the sky. I’m so tired, and my eyes hurt under the fatigued pressure of my lids straining to stay open. My room glows in the warmth of the morning sun, and I finally find a semblance of the peace I’d been searching for in the night. With everything beaming brightly around me, scaring away the monsters in the dark, my eyes fall shut long enough for me to drift away.

I jerk out of my sleep with an audible gasp when something touches me. “It’s me,” my mother assures before I can process that I’m back home in my bed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” I sit up and push myself back against the headboard, take a calming deep breath, and adjust to waking too fast. “What are you doing here?” She’s wearing the same look of worry that Kason has been giving me. “I was just . . . I guess I was a little homesick and wanted to sleep in my own bed.”

“When did you get here? I didn’t even hear you come in.” “After midnight.” “Midnight? Why so late?” “I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her and then try to deflect her concern with a fake smile, saying, “Sleeping on that thin twin bed is no joke, Mom. You’d be sneaking back here, too, if you were me.” “Spoiled is what you are,” she teases before reaching her arms out to me. “Come here. I’ve missed you so much.” I close my eyes and soften into her embrace as we hug. “This house isn’t the same without you, you know?” I nod. “I miss you, too.” She draws back. “But you’re having fun, right?” I nod again and feed into her idea that college will be the best years of my life. “Yeah, it’s a blast. And Lana is a good roommate, but that girl never slows down.” “Is that a bad thing?” “Ehh, not really, but quiet is nice, too.” She has a moment of pause, tilting her head in wariness. “Are you sure everything is okay?” “I’m sure. Stop worrying.” With another passing second, she lets it be and moves on, asking, “How are you feeling about starting classes on Monday?” I shrug. “Fine, I guess.” “Well, I’m glad you’re home. Unfortunately, I have to run.” “Where are you going?” “To the office for a little while,” she says. Before she leaves my room, I promise her that I’ll stick around until dinner so we can spend some time together. Just as I hear her setting the alarm, the doorbell rings. My stomach does a dip-dive when I think about it being Kason. I can only imagine his worry when he woke up to find me gone. “Ady,” my mother calls. “I’m heading out, but Kason is here.” I brace myself for whatever it is he’s going to say, wishing there were a way to avoid all of this. Wishing that I could cling to the little solace I’ve found and keep it from scattering now that he’s here. He stops in my doorway for a moment and looks at me with uncertainty. Guilt and shame and anger come crashing down on top of me as his eyes take me in. “Why?” It’s all he says as he steps into my room and over to my bed, but I give him no

answer. My body trembles in nervousness from the inside, and when he sits on the edge of the bed next to me, I can see the snagged edges of frustration he’s trying to mask. “Tell me what I should be thinking right now.” Like a cowardly child, I shrug. “That’s it? That’s all I get from you? Do you have any idea what it felt like to wake up alone and realize that you snuck out sometime in the middle of the night without bothering to tell me what was going on or where you were going?” “I’m sorry.” “You’re sorry?” He drops his attention away from me and clenches his fists a few times as he tries to keep his cool. “I love you, Adaline,” he eventually says. “I know there’s something you aren’t telling me. Ever since you moved out of here, you haven’t been the same.” “I told you—” “You told me a weak lie that does nothing to explain your erratic behavior.” My anxiety snags on a sharp knife, ripping it open wider as I stare at him in silence. There is nothing I could tell him that would explain this away. “Just talk to me,” he stresses. “Whatever it is, just tell me.” “It’s nothing.” “God dammit, Adaline, stop lying.” “I’m not!” I defend on a pitched voice, growing irritated with his incessant questioning when I just want to be left alone. When I just need him to stop watching me and dissecting my every move. When I’m just trying to make it from one hour to the next without having to think about whatever defilement happened to me. “You’re not lying?” he mocks angrily. “Tell me you aren’t acting strange. Tell me you don’t cringe every time I touch you—” “Why are you pushing?” I snap, throwing the covers off me and storming out of bed. “If I tell you I’m fine, why isn’t it enough?” He stands and marches over to me in his own bout of irritability. “Because you aren’t fine, and we both know it.” “I am,” I lie as I stare at him dead on. “Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away when you know how deeply I care for you?” “Why are you pushing me?” “Because I love you!” he shouts as he rips his fingers through his hair. His jaw clenches, and he takes a few steps away from me before turning back. “Talk to me. God, that’s all I’m asking you to do, to trust me enough with whatever is going on. But you’re hiding from me. Do you have any idea how that feels after everything I’ve told you about myself—about my past?”

“Just stop!” I can’t take any more guilt. I can’t be made to feel like I’m the villain just because he’s stronger than I am and is able to open up. I can’t do that. There isn’t an ounce of me that has the power to do so. If he only knew what happened to me, he’d understand my need for silence because it happened to him, too. Both of us have been taken advantage of in the most intimate way a person can be. He suffered through years of sexual abuse, and even though mine was just a night—a night that I can’t even remember—it doesn’t mean I don’t feel every morsel of its misery. He’s had years to allow his wounds to knit themselves into scars inside him. I’ve had a few measly days. My pain is too fresh, a still-festering wound inside me. I know if I open my mouth and give him what he wants, it will be the final twist of the knife, the final pull of a stitch, that will open me up and leave me bleeding out onto the floor. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?” “Because that isn’t how this works. You’re mine to take care of, and you’re refusing to let me do it. There isn’t anything I won’t do for you. There isn’t anything I won’t fix and make right.” He walks closer to me. “Is it something I did?” I shake my head and take a step back, needing to keep the distance because I’m scared of how deep he’s trailing with me. “I just wanted a night in my own bed.” My words come out too meek. “Why won’t you just believe me?” “If I’m giving you all of me, then I’m going to want the same in return.” “I’m not you, Kason, and to demand that out of me isn’t fair. So, if I say I’m fine, just let it be and stop pushing!” “Is that what you really want? Me to walk away from you like I don’t give a shit?” “I don’t know what I want because you’re making it impossible for me to think straight!” I grit my teeth as I walk across the room. My heart pounds for acceptance and solitude, both of which he’s denying me. I know he’s worried, but I just want to be left alone. “So what is it then? Just lay it out there for me, Adaline. What do you want?” “I want you to just let me be. I want to be able to sleep in my own bed without being questioned. If I don’t want to have sex or be touched, don’t assume it’s because there’s something wrong. And if I tell you I’m fine, then let it be and move on.” My words slap him right across the face, and I drop my eyes, unable to handle the hurt I just caused him when this goes against everything we are to each other. “So that’s how you want it?” I don’t move to respond. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says in outright defeat, with so much hopelessness, before he walks from my room and out of my house, leaving me in more pain than I was in before he showed up here. As if the loss of my self-worth weren’t enough, I now fear I stand the chance of losing so much more, and that very thought brings me to my knees in a torrential storm of heartbreak.



She’s drifting, and I don’t know why. It was sudden at first, a quick change, a fast drop. But now she’s on a slow descent, slipping even further away from me. I’m hanging on to her as best I can. Although I feel as if I’m failing a little more every single day. It’s been over a month, and she barely talks to me anymore, at least not about anything of importance. Our conversations are superficial at best. I listen to her talk about school while she plasters on a brittle smile to fool me into believing what she is telling me is the truth. I don’t dare question her because all I’ll get in return is her dodging them and negating all my concerns, making me feel as if I were the one pushing her away with my inquisitions, but she’s the one pushing away. She hides inside of herself, even though she’ll deny it. I see right through her, though. The dark circles under her eyes tells me she isn’t sleeping, her bones that have become more prevalent tells me she isn’t eating. She’s fading away, and I don’t know how to bring her back. My mouth stays shut now. No longer do I pressure her to talk to me, because it doesn’t do any good. All that ever comes from it is her erecting yet another wall to keep me on the outside when I used to be so deeply embedded in her heart. That heart is now isolated, and it kills me, because that heart is mine. Mine to care for and to protect. Mine to love. Mine to carry when the weight becomes too much for her, which it is. Clearly, there’s something going on. I’m not a fucking idiot. At the same time, maybe I am. I should know what’s causing her to be so afflicted. Yet, I don’t, and I’m stupefied by it all. Do I push? I probably should, but I’m torn. Pushing her runs the risk of losing her, and that I can’t do. As much as I need her, she needs me even more. Of course, she won’t admit that and has thrown it in my face a couple of times that she doesn’t. Arguments turn her defensive.

“Stop needling me all the time as if I’m something broken you need to fix,” she shouted my way when I asked her why she was always sleeping during the days instead of going to her classes. “I don’t need fixing, and I don’t need you constantly checking up on me.” “You expect me to believe that you’re okay on your own. You’re barely functioning.” “Maybe I would be better on my own. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with your constant interrogations.” Fights spark nasty words that inflict deep wounds I refuse to show her. Never have I needed to be as strong as I need to be now—for her. And even though she does her best to push me away, I’m not one who would ever turn my back on her. She’s dealt with enough abandonment in her life from her father. “I’m not giving up on you, Adaline.” “Why?” she asked, chin quivering slightly, exposing a crack in her fictitious strength. I stepped over to her, and that time, she didn’t back away from me. She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from crying, but I saw the tears bleeding from the inside. I felt the ache in her bones. “Because you’re my everything.” She fell into my arms, clung to me as if I were the very oxygen she needed for survival. But it didn’t matter how close I held her to me, willing the heavy beating of my heart to awaken hers, she eventually pulled away and forced me out of her dorm room. She thought I left. She thought she was alone, but I stood on the other side of that door for nearly a half hour while she cried. I didn’t leave until she stopped because I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone in agony. And if I couldn’t be inside that room with her, holding her, then I would be there for her the only way she’d allow. So, I stood against her door and listened to her helpless sobs, each one ripping away chunks of my heart. It was hopelessness at its worst. “Kason?” I look up to find Cheryl standing in front of my desk. “Everything okay?” I give her an unconvincing nod and then look to see it’s already past nine in the evening. “Why are you still here?” I start shutting down my computer and gathering a few files that I need to review. “Guess I lost track of time.” “Pack up. You can walk me out to my car,” she says with a hint of a smile. I’ve thought about talking to her about Adaline, but it feels like it would be a betrayal if I did, so I haven’t mentioned anything about her daughter’s strange behavior. Still, I wonder if I’m the only one she’s acting this way toward. I know Adaline sees her mother every week, so I would have to assume that, if Cheryl were witnessing what I am, she would’ve already said something to me.

Over the past year and a half, Cheryl and I have grown close. She treats me as if I’m part of the family and not just as her daughter’s boyfriend. She’s been that maternal figure my own mother could never be, doing what she can to guide me and support me. She’s given me this amazing job, and even though she’s my boss, it hasn’t gotten in the way of our relationship. It’s only bonded us closer, and I’m so very thankful to have someone like her in my life. We walk out into the hot, humid night with air so thick I can feel its weight. “I missed seeing you Sunday night,” she says as we approach her SUV. “Sunday night?” “Ady said you couldn’t join us for dinner because of some paper you had to write.” There was no paper that I needed to write. In fact, I wanted to spend Sunday evening with her, but she told me that she had to write a paper. Again, another lie. “Yeah, sorry about that.” I shrug. “No big deal. Are you coming over tomorrow night? I haven’t heard back from Ady, so I’m not sure if she mentioned it to you yet.” Wanting so desperately to bridge the gap Adaline is forcing between us, I respond, “I’ll be there.” She opens the door and slips in behind the wheel. “Good. It’s been too long since the three of us have sat down for a meal together.” We say our good nights, and when she drives off, I hop into my Camaro and head home. I call Adaline, but she sends me straight to voice mail, so I flick on the radio, but nothing is enough to drown out the million questions that flood me. The same questions I’ve had for the past month. Questions to which I have no answers. Lonely and stressed to the max, I walk into the apartment and toss my work files onto my dresser before falling on top of my mattress. I stare at the ceiling as my muscles begin to constrict in need. It was only a couple of hours ago that I jerked off in one of the bathroom stalls up at the office. This tension between Adaline and me does nothing but feed my impulses, though. Everything is worse. Everything is a thousand times stronger. I’ve spent so much time and energy focusing on Adaline that my own cravings have become too much. Too overpowering. I’m starved for the attention she used to give me, the attention she now deprives me of. She hardly touches me anymore, and I’m not just talking about sex. Every time I try to hold her hand, she pulls away, and every time I hold her in my arms, she tenses up as if my touch inflicts pain upon her. This constant anxiety that I can’t shake has only triggered my need for more gratification. My body is in so much pain. Adaline rarely touches me anymore, and when she does, there’s repulsion written all over her, so I wind up pushing her away. I can’t allow her to force herself into doing something she clearly doesn’t want to do. I want to say something, but I don’t feel safe talking to her about this, so I keep it bottled up, having to resort to my own measures to take care of myself. Temptation to stray over to Krista’s

apartment runs rampant, and I’m constantly fighting against old habits. But sex, or even a blow job, would allow me to get off without having to experience the amount of pain I’ve forced my body into. The contact is much softer with those two options than the pressure of my hand. Every time I masturbate, the friction of my palm wrapped around my sore dick hurts. But I need the release so badly that I endure the pain just to get my next fix. I grab my phone, open a porn site, and scroll through video after video, trying to find something that I haven’t already gotten off to so many times that I’m now desensitized to the images. In a flash of irritation, I flick my finger against the screen so that it flies right past the next page button to an advertisement at the bottom of the screen for live interactive sex cams. I stare at the freeze frame that shows a girl sitting on a bed and curiosity ignites. I click on the ad, and it takes me to a screen filled with thumbnails that feature all the girls who are live right now. I scan through them as excitement trills through my bloodstream and straight to my dick, which is straining against my pants. My head drifts into a euphoric fog that stimulates a multitude of sensations, and when I tap on one of the thumbnails and it asks me for my credit card information, I don’t think twice. Grabbing my wallet, I pull out my bankcard and then switch my phone for my laptop. I type in the website and click on the live cam tab. I don’t scan through the girls very long—I honestly don’t care—before I select one, punch in my bankcard information, and hit enter. A moment later, the chat connects and the girl appears, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. “What’s your name?” she asks, staring into the camera. “Kason.” My voice is sheepish as my nerves start to cut through. She sits up on her knees to give me a better view of her body, and I unzip my pants. Taking my erection in my hand, I watch as she runs her hands over the bra covering her fake tits. “Kason,” she says slowly. “That’s a sexy name.” She slips the straps down her arms and exposes her breasts, pinching her hard nipples as she moans. “You like these?” “Yeah.” I lightly stroke myself, cautious of my grip so that I can get more pleasure than pain out of this. “So, what are you into, Kason? I can be a good girl . . . or I can be very naughty.” I know exactly what I’m into, and the moment she mentions it, all I see is Adaline. Good, sweet, innocent Adaline. Guilt splashes like corrosive toxins. My stomach coils in disgust, and I quickly shut the lid to the laptop. “What the fuck am I doing?” Balling my fists, I pound them into my mattress before yanking my pants back up in a storm of self-hatred. Why am I doing this? Why the hell am I like this? My chest seizes, and I hate that I’m so goddamn weak. That I’m constantly warped by this need I can’t escape. That the absence of the girl I fucking love so damn much makes it so damn worse.

I grab my phone and call her, only for her to reject me once again. Her voice mail picks up, and by the time it beeps, my heart is catapulting itself against my lungs, making it near impossible to breathe. Somehow, desperate pleas start to spill out of me with no control. “Adaline, please. I miss you, and I need you. I can’t live like this, without you with me. I’m fucking falling apart over here, and you . . . God, babe, I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to stop it.” I choke up as the pain of my fears rips through me. “I can’t lose you. I fucking love you, and I swear, whatever this is, I’ll fix it. Just tell me what it is, and I’ll make it right, because I need you. I just fucking need you so bad, Adal—” Another beep cuts me off, ending the recording, and I’m too worked up, too close to a goddamn breakdown. My dick screams at me along with every one of my sinful cravings. With tear-blurred vision, I pace across the room and yank my pants down. With one hand braced against my dresser and the other fisting my erection, I stare at the photo of the two of us that Adaline framed for me and jerk myself off, biting back the aching pain that fires through my dick. I’m a violent wave of pleasure and fear and fucking heartbreak as I beat off, looking into the paper eyes that hold the other half of my desolate heart. I’m so alone, so miserable, so damn pathetic. Shameful, uncontrollable, and possibly even unlovable. Maybe it just took her this long to realize it.



With a loud gasp, I shoot up out of a dead sleep. My breath kicks out hard in sheer panic as my eyes dart around the room, petrified I’m still trapped beneath Liam. The pounding inside my chest rattles me, and I quietly weep when I realize I’m safe in my bed, that it was only a dream—a nightmare. But it hadn’t been. It happened. I had been trapped beneath him. His hands had been on me, and I hadn’t even been given the chance to say no, to attempt to fight him off me. He had full access to my entire body, and there hadn’t been a single thing I could have done to stop him. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I curl into myself as I run my fingers through my hair and along my damp scalp. My whole body is sheened in a cold sweat. I pick up my cell that’s lying next to me on the bed and find a missed call from Kason and a text from Micah. I scoot back on the bed as my heart rate starts to slow to a normal succession of beats and look out the window. The same window I used to spend countless hours watching Kason as he worked down below. He’s no longer down there, and I’m no longer pining after the next moment I’ll be able to be with him. Instead, I avoid. I avoid him the same way I avoid everything else. I keep myself hidden away, ditching class after class, too terrified I’ll see Liam on campus. Instead, knowing my mother is always at work, I come over here and sleep through the day to escape Liam’s hunting ground and Lana’s questioning. She sees me at night when I return to the dorms, but I don’t sleep. I never sleep in the darkness for fear of what it might hold for me, and Lana refuses to leave the bathroom light on. So, I stay up, haunted by my own imagination and use my phone as my personal nightlight. Nights are the worst, and they feel never-ending. It’s as if I’m a prisoner waiting for a death sentence to be overturned the way I wait for daybreak. And when it comes, I’m already dead. Exhausted and weighed down in misery, I drag myself out of bed, only to crawl into this one and wait for the security of the sun to rise before I finally

rest. But even that’s becoming a feat. Recently, I’ve been plagued with bad dreams. Re-creations of what might have happened that night. Different scenarios terrorize me in my sleep until I wake, scared and in tears. The immediate aftershocks have me wishing for Kason’s arms to make me feel better, but once I’m calmed down, the realization hits that I can’t run to him anymore. He’s well aware that something is very wrong, and that awareness has driven a wedge between us. He used to question me, which only brought about fights. Recently, those questions have subsided and have been replaced by worrisome looks that only serve as a reminder that I’m a liar, that I’m a disgrace, that I’m no longer clean and good. Those looks inflict pain that I can’t endure any more, and for that, I do my best to keep him at a distance. After a few more calming breaths, I open my texts to help distract myself. Micah: One more month . . . Me: Until??? Micah: Until I can see you again. Thanksgiving break! Me: I can’t wait.

There’s something so refreshing about Micah that makes me excited to text with him and talk when he calls. He’s entirely detached from the horror of this whole situation. I think it’s because there’s a level of separation with him being in Miami, and for a moment, I can pretend that I’m normal again. Micah: How’s school? Me: Blah. Micah: That lame? Me: Pretty much. Tell me something exciting.

I step out of bed and walk into the bathroom to fix my hair before I go downstairs. My mom and I are hanging out tonight, and even though I lied away this afternoon of sleep by telling her I was up all night working on a midterm paper, I don’t need her to see me looking any more worn down than I already am. Micah: I registered for a surfing competition. It’s going down next month. Me: Are you serious? That’s great. Where is it? Micah: Deerfield Beach. It’s just south of Boca Raton. You should come! Me: Yeah, maybe. I’ll have to let you know, but that sounds awesome.

The doorbell rings, and I wonder who could be here as I tie my long hair back in a ponytail. Micah: I’m running into the gym. I’ll call you when I have more time to talk. BTW, Trent says hi. Me: Sounds good. Tell him I said hi, too! Miss you guys!

I finish freshening up, and when I start making my way downstairs, I hear Kason’s voice. I hit the last step and look across the house to find him and my mother talking in the living room.

“Well, there you are,” she announces as I walk into the room. “That was a long nap you took.” Ignoring my mother, I stare in curiosity at Kason. “What are you doing here?” There’s disappointment in his eyes when he hears my hint of annoyance. “Your mom invited me.” “Is everything okay?” I look over to my mom, who’s looking a tad confused about my lack of happiness to see Kason, and only then do I realize my mistake and paste on a smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I just woke up and am still a little groggy.” Kason stands and takes this opportunity to hug me. He knows I won’t push him away with my mom watching. “Hey, babe,” he murmurs, and I close my eyes, sinking into the warmth of his embrace, missing the days when everything was so comfortable between us. In this rare moment, I actually hug him back, because I miss him. I miss him so much. “You need to get on a better schedule and stop pulling so many all-nighters,” my mom says, and when I open my eyes and look over Kason’s shoulder, I see her walking into the kitchen. “You could’ve just worked on that paper today.” Kason gives me a knowing look. “Paper?” “Don’t,” I whisper, needing him not to tip my mother off about my not attending classes. His knowing is bad enough, but there was no lying my way out of it when he confronted me. After all, it was his friend, Rhett, who had told him I haven’t been showing up to the English class we share. I’m on edge as the day goes on, worried that one slip is all it will take to make my mother suspicious. When it’s just the two of us, I’m in control and I pick and choose my words wisely. With Kason here, I’m fearful he might say something. My anxiety is sky high, but I manage to get through dinner unscathed. When night falls, my mom grabs her wine glass and we all head out back to the fire pit. It’s excruciating, waiting for her to ask me something I can’t lie through, anticipating her asking Kason something he won’t lie through. But pretty soon, I know I’m in the clear when my mom says, “Well, I think I’ll let the two of you spend some time together.” “You don’t have to run off, Mom.” “Don’t be silly. I know the two of you are pressed for alone time.” She’s right. With Kason’s full-time load at school and his job at the law firm, he barely has time to come up for air, which serves my need for distance. Still, I have to wonder what my vacancy is doing to him and his needs. Guilt strikes hard when I think about what he must be going through, knowing how badly he struggles in silence. I can’t bring myself to ask because it’s just another thing I can’t face. I don’t want to know that he’s suffering because of me. But how can I take care of him when every time he touches me I feel dirty? I’m stuck because Kason is so highly sexual, and I just can’t be that for him anymore. It isn’t just something he wants, it’s something he needs. He can’t function without it.

“Adaline?” Slowly, I drag my eyes away from the door my mom disappeared through and force myself to look at him. He stands and holds his hand out to me, and when I take it, he says, “Will you lie in the hammock with me?” “Kason . . .” “Please don’t tell me no.” Already regretting how much I’ve let him down, I give in. He holds my hand, and when we lie down and he has me in his arms, I’m reminded of the countless nights we’ve spent lying under this very moon. A moon that has watched us fall in love and has listened to our most tender words spoken. “God, I’ve missed this.” He breathes the words as he gathers me closer, and I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. All I’m doing is hurting him at this point. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?” “You would’ve pushed me away.” I look at the stars and start making wishes, hedging my bets in case my prayers go unanswered. But each wish feels like a waste of time when heartbreak is written in the very light the stars are casting down on us. Maybe my soul is too heavy of a burden and is beyond saving or repairing. Maybe I’m a lost cause. “Maybe you’d be better off if you’d just let me go.” The words simply fall from my lips, and I feel numb. “Why would you say that?” “Because you aren’t happy anymore, and it’s all my fault.” The moon swims into a blur through the tears that flood my eyes. He shifts onto his side and stares down at me with so much torment, and I can’t recall the last time we were this close. “I never even knew what happiness was until you. You defined it into existence for me.” “But it’s gone.” “It isn’t.” He drags his thumb over the crest of my tear-stained cheek before dropping his hand over my depleted heart. “It’s right here.” I shake my head because he’s denying my words and trying to make me believe we can survive this. But I feel it in my bones . . . the hopelessness. “Let me back in,” he pleads. “I don’t know how.” My voice cracks under my honesty. Breaks under the painful truth. If he only knew that, along with everything Liam stole from me that night, he also took my strength, leaving me weak and powerless. All I want to do is give up. Give up on everything because the fight is too much for me to take on. “I’ll help you. I swear to you, whatever this is, I’ll help you through it. But you have to

let me try.” “Maybe we aren’t meant to be.” His head falls to mine with a painful exhale that forces him to choke on his words when he says, “God, don’t say that.” He holds my face tightly, and when I slip my hands around his arms, every muscle is flexed in tension. “I need you, Adaline. I don’t think you understand how much I love you.” “But what if love isn’t enough?” “I’m not letting you slip away.” I wish he would. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to suffer within the entanglement of our love. “Is it me?” he questions, pulling back from me. “Are my issues too much?” The truth is yes. His addiction terrifies me. I know it isn’t his fault and he can’t control it, but all I want, all I need, is unconditional emotional support and nothing physical. It’s a reality that doesn’t exist for him, and I hate it. I hate that he can’t be strong enough for me right now. He’s suffered through so much, I’m not about to throw his addiction in his face, so I shake my head. “It’s just everything,” I tell him vaguely. “That isn’t enough. That tells me nothing. How can I fix this if you won’t even tell me what’s broken? You have me standing on the edge of a moment that’s slipping away. Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you have any idea what it’s like having to watch you slowly unlove me? Adaline, it’s killing me.” What do I do? My truth will only deepen his pain. He’ll be so mad at me, and he has every right to be. I was stupid and put myself in that horrible situation. I did everything wrong that night. It’s my fault this happened, and I blame myself enough for the both of us. How do I turn my back on him when I love him so much? And even though he says he loves me, I’m no longer the me he knows. I’m different—changed forever—I’m not the same girl he fell in love with. I can’t stomach the thought of him knowing how damaged I now am. That I’m defiled in the permanent grime of another man because of my bad choices. I’ll never forgive myself for this.



Clouds hide the burning sun behind a rippled blanket of gray. The air hangs densely— thick and humid—and I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow as I watch Kason out in the water. There’s a tropical storm about to blow through, and the waves are coming in fourfoot swells, barreling perfectly. He ditched his skimboard for his surfboard, as did all the other guys out here, and is surfing the high waves that rarely hit on this side of Florida. Kason asked me if I’d come with him, and even though I wanted to tell him no, I didn’t. Dejection weighed down his tone when he said, “Give me just one day. You and me.” He told me he missed me, and it was that very moment that I knew what I had to do. It’s nearing the middle of October, and at this point, my whole world has fallen apart. Micah called last night and asked me again if I would go with him to his surfing competition in a couple of weeks. Even though I want the distraction of seeing him, I said no out of fear that he too would sense there was something off with me. He’d probably ask about school, and I would have no other choice but to lie to someone else I care about. Lie about the fact that I’ve only shown up a couple times and am failing everything—every single class. The last day to drop classes and still get a refund has already come and gone. It would’ve been the responsible thing to do, but then my mother would have seen the money pop back into her account, and I would’ve had no way of explaining my way out of that mess. A few guys out in the water shout their excitement when Kason catches a big wave. He pops up to his feet and glides down the face, riding along the stretch effortlessly, looking perfectly beautiful, and my stomach knots. Kason is such an amazing person. Falling in love with him was beyond what I ever could’ve imagined. All I ever wanted to do was love him and take care of him, but now, all I’m doing is hurting him, which he doesn’t deserve. He doesn’t deserve the me I am now. I look into his eyes, and all I see is pain—and I’m the one who put it there.

I’ve been sitting out here for over an hour, watching him, trying to engrain him into my memory, doing everything I can to convince myself that I’ll be doing him a favor by walking away. In order to do that, I have to hurt him, hurt the one person who should never have to endure another ounce of sadness. But that’s what I have to do, and even though the suffering will be brutal, in the end, it’s what’s best for him. The barrel of the wave comes crashing down on him, taking him under for a few seconds before he breaks the surface with a righteous smile. My heart sinks when I wonder about the next girl that will come along after me. Will she love him better? Take care of him the way he needs, not just physically, but emotionally? Will she reassure him and soothe him when his past comes to haunt him? Will she never throw his addiction in his face even when it becomes painful to bear? I take a hard swallow while blinking back tears and scold myself for letting my mind go there. I can’t think about those things. If I do, I’ll never have the courage to save him from the misery I’m causing. With his board tucked under his arm, he jogs out of the water. “You doing okay?” he asks when he drops the board next to the towel I’m sitting on. I nod. “Are you done?” He joins me at my side and smirks. “Are you ready for me to be done?” I stare into his deep green eyes that are outlined with his dark lashes as drops of water bead down from his hairline. Knowing that when we leave here, all of this will be over makes me sick to my stomach. He’s my first love, and I’m not ready to let go just yet, so I hold on a little longer when I tell him, “No.” “You sure?” “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s kind of nice being out here without the crowds.” He stares at me, and I know he’s hesitant to touch me, so he doesn’t. He knows I’d most likely coil away or freeze up. So we sit, simply looking into each other’s eyes, and I pray to God one last time to vanquish that night into extinction. To wipe my slate clean and make me pure and whole again. I miss the times when we were so full of passion, when I cried happy tears more often than sad ones. When being in Kason’s arms was the highest feeling in the world, and when trusting was easy because I didn’t know any better. I love him so deeply, but this fear of mine reaches even deeper. The fear of him finding out and having to watch his love for me morph into blame and contempt. I lie back but keep my eyes fixed on him. There’s so much brokenness shattering around us. Our once beautiful love, now in fractals. I want to say so much, assure him that I love him, that none of this is his fault. But I can’t. It would only serve to give him false hope. So, I lock those words up and keep them safe so that maybe one day, when this nightmare is over, I can give them to him. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, and I give him a small smile, even though it hurts to do so.

“Can you do something for me?” “Anything.” I know I shouldn’t ask him of this, but I’m weak and lonely and in need of one last affectionate touch from him before I break my own heart along with his. “Can you just hold me?” His face softens, and when I sit up, he pulls me between his legs and cradles me against his chest. He wraps me in his warmth as I band my arms around his waist. I cuddle into him, snuggling as close as I can. Laying my head over his heart, I cement the rhythm of its beats to my memory as it thump, thump, thumps. He seeps into my skin, filling my pores and heating my blood—his very existence makes me tremble, and I don’t think I’ll ever find another love like this one. Maybe we were too perfect, and because of that, we were meant to be pierced by thorns. I don’t know the reason for all of this, or why any of this is happening, but I do know that no matter what, we were created for each other. And yet I destroyed it all in one foolish night. “I miss this,” he murmurs. “I could hold you for forever without ever tiring.” Me, too. Because I love you from the depths of my marrow. And I’m so sorry for letting you down. I’m sorry that I can’t give you the truth to why I’m about to break your heart. But know that I’m doing it for you, because I love you too much to hurt you with my mistakes and my now tarnished soul. You deserve someone better, and I pray that you find her and that she’s more than what I ever could’ve been for you. I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me. I can’t keep dragging this out. My heart splits, and the tears come freely, painting my face in rivers of anguish. I push against him, but he doesn’t let go of me. “Baby, tell me why you’re crying.” “I’m ready to go home now.” My voice is nothing but torrential agony. I push against him again, but he strengthens his hold. “I’m not letting you go until you stop this and tell me what is going on.” “Kason, please.” I force my palms against his chest and lash out. “Stop touching me!” His arms finally fall from around me, and there’s so much hurt splashed across his face. But hurt is mixed with frustration. “It’s been nearly two months, Adaline. Two months of standing by while you feed me constant lies about why you can’t be around me, touch me, love me.” “Don’t.” “There isn’t a day that I don’t go back in my head to try to pinpoint the moment everything changed.” His eyes rim in tears, and he’s shaking with so much emotion that it terrifies me. “I’ve been walking on eggshells around you, scared that one wrong move will send you running away from me. Do you realize that’s my biggest fear? Losing you?”

I sit frozen next to him as he speaks, and I know this is it for us. “But I can’t stand by and watch you deteriorate any longer. It’s killing me.” “Then don’t.” I weep, knowing my words are only a lame attempt to push him away, and I know it’s going to take a lot more. “Is that what you want? You want me to walk away from you? To leave everything we have behind and for this to be over?” I shudder and then brace myself when I straighten my spine. “Maybe it would be for the best.” His face falls, and a tear carves its way slowly down his cheek as he looks at me in disbelief. “I don’t make you happy, Kason.” “You make me everything!” he professes fervently as he grabs my hands, but I pull them away and stand. “What is it? Because I’m sick of you keeping me in the dark.” “Then why are we together?” He stands and steps toward me, ignoring my question. “Tell me what happened that night.” My heart stammers when he hits too close to the truth, and I take a step back on wobbly knees. “I’ve gone over it a million times, Adaline. Everything was fine until that night you went out with Lana. The night you moved into the dorms. We made love, and I drove you back to campus. Everything was fine—you were fine.” His eyes radiate with my unspoken truth that I will never admit to because I never want to see the look on his face when he discovers just how deplorable I truly am. His hands are balled in fists as they shake by his sides. “I’m not stupid. I may have been scared to bring it up, but I am not stupid, Adaline.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Tell me what happened that night. Tell me!” “Nothing happened!” “You’re lying.” “I’m not lying, Kason!” I shout, growing angry at this whole situation, at him, at myself, at everything. “Did someone hurt you?” “What?” I stress in feigned shock, knowing he sees right through it but hoping he will choose to believe that his insinuation is unbelievably appalling. “No!” Another tear rips down his face. “God dammit, Adaline! I’ve given you so much, just fucking trust me with whatever it is you’re hiding!” This is when I spear him with the dagger, when I go low and throw my lie in his face, hoping it’s enough that he’ll want nothing to do with me. “I cheated on you.”

His brows furrow, and he shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.” “Why? Because you think I’m too good of a person to do something like that? Well, I’m not.” I can tell he still doesn’t buy it. “You are. You’re feeding me this shit because you’re scared. I see it every time I touch you. Every time I try to get close to you. You cry when you think you’re alone, but baby, you are not alone!” He steps closer and wraps his hands around my arms. His touch is too good for me, and I hate myself for what I’m about to do. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you because it’s too much. Your addiction is too much for me to deal with. I could do it for a while, but I just can’t anymore.” “Are you hearing yourself? You’re all over the place. You’re stressed about moving out of your mom’s house, you cheated on me, and now it’s my . . . addiction.” His face pinches in disgust when he says the word, but he moves past that plight as he goes on, “You really expect me to believe you?” I ball my hands in frustration, wishing he would just give up. Hating that nothing I say is enough to push him away. That very thought tells me all I need to know, that it isn’t about me trying to convince him that I’m no good. I just need to rip the Band-Aid off and end it. “I guess it doesn’t matter what you believe.” I struggle to take in a breath, but I fail. So I let go of all my worthless strength that serves me no good and break down in a heap of anguish when I say, “It’s over.” He grips my arms harder. “It isn’t.” “It is,” I cry. “Tell me how to fight for you,” he begs on a cracked voice, which is filled with his own slew of tears. “Please, just tell me. “I don’t want you to fight for me. I just want this to be over.” I pull my arms out of his hands and walk away, leaving my broken heart in the sand next to his feet as he calls out to me, “Adaline, I fucking love you.”



I fell in love with my heart wide open. In Kason’s arms, I had no fear as he took me to places so high they defied gravity. But I walked away, leaving him destroyed and in tears, yelling my name. I had no idea just how far our love had taken us. And here I am, free falling from cloud nine, petrified of the concrete down below. I’ve never felt more alone, and it’s all my fault. Cut to the core, I’m in dire need of consoling. Someone to talk to me, hold me, tell me everything is going to be all right— that I will survive this. Because I have to. I just have to. I’m the worst kind of human there is, but I had to do it. I had to—for him. All I’m left with are his pleading I love yous echoing in my ears as I lie here in my dorm room. My pillow is wet beneath my cheek, doused in my heart’s agony for the man I just broke. Everything is falling apart, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the avalanche of ruination. My instinct tells me to run and run far, but to where? I hate this campus, this dorm room, this everything. I want to escape, rewind time, and simply go back. I want life to forgive me and grant me a pardon so that I can have a second chance with Kason, a chance to make everything right again. I want to slip back into his arms, inhale the sun and salt he wears on his skin, and taste his breath as he kisses me and tells me I’m his all. So much inside me is calling for me to go to him, beg for forgiveness, and give him what he’s been pleading for—the truth. The truth would do nothing but hurt him, though. He’s had such a hard life, has suffered through so much, and battles his demons daily. I couldn’t possibly throw more on him. His devastations are enough, he doesn’t need me adding mine to his, and that’s exactly what I would be doing if I dropped this bomb on him. As much as this is killing me, as much as I want to run back to him, I know that, in the end, this is what is best for him. All I want to do is take care of him and protect him as much as I can. I just didn’t know how much it would wind up costing me.

So, this is me, destroying us to save him. The ringing of my cell fractures me further when I think about his voice being on the other end of the call. But when I pick up the phone, it isn’t his name on the screen. It’s Micah’s. My best friend. The person who was there for me the last time I broke up with Kason. But this time is different. This time is so much worse, and remembering how good he was with me before, I go ahead and take the call because I need to unload some of this heartbreak. It’s simply too much for me to carry any longer. I don’t even try to perk up my solemn voice, which is raw and strained. “Hey, Micah.” “Hey,” he responds timidly. “Are you okay? It sounds like you’ve been crying.” I scoot back on the bed and sit up. “Everything is falling apart.” “Why? What’s going on?” I close my eyes, and tears fall down my face before dripping off my chin. “It’s over. For good this time.” “With Kason? What the fuck did he do?” “Nothing,” I’m quick to state, a single truth in a sea of lies around me. “It’s just everything. Nothing is the same anymore, and it just didn’t work out between us.” “So he just broke up with you?” “No . . . I broke up with him,” I say in a pitiful heap of sorrow. “I just didn’t think it would hurt this bad. And now I’m alone and have no one to talk to.” “What about your roommate?” “Lana? I barely know her.” “Have you told your mom?” “No. It just happened a couple of hours ago,” I tell him. “I came back here to the dorms because I didn’t know where else to go, but I’m starting to feel like I don’t know where I belong anymore. Everything is so messed up.” “I hate that you’re so far away,” he mutters beneath his breath before asking, “Have you not made any friends that you can talk to? I mean you’re halfway through the semester.” I exhale deeply and then confess, “I haven’t been completely honest with you. When you ask about school and I blow you off, it’s because I haven’t been going to classes.” Another bedrock of contention barrels down on me when I admit this. “I don’t know what to do. My mother is going to be so mad at me when she finds out.” “What do you mean, you haven’t been going? How much have you missed?” “All of it.” “Fuck.” He sighs in utter disbelief. “I don’t know what to do, Micah. All I know is that I don’t want to be here anymore.” “Right now, just stay put, okay? I’m going to throw some things in a bag, and I’ll be

there this evening.” “What?” “I’m driving over.” “You don’t have to do that. I mean, what about school?” “Fuck school. You don’t need to be alone right now. I’ll be there in about five hours.” “Micah—” “We’ll figure this out, okay?” Another tear stains my cheek, feeling so very thankful to have a piece of my comforting past back here in Tampa with me. “Thank you.” “No worries, Guppy. Just hang tight and text me the address to your dorm.” While I’m texting Micah, Lana returns from class with a stack of books in her hands and heaves out an exasperated, “These midterms are going to be the death of me.” She dumps everything onto her bed while I keep my head down and finish typing out my message. “I’m going out for pizza with some friends. Want to come?” Her offer only irks my annoyance. It’s a reminder of how very different our two lives are, which upsets me because I should be her. I should be studying for exams and hanging out with friends. But instead, I’m failing every single class and haven’t been able to stomach food at all for the past couple of months. I know I’ve lost too much weight and my clothes hang too loosely, it’s just that the thought of ingesting food makes me cringe. “Have you been crying?” she asks when she finally stops long enough to look my way. “Can we not talk about me?” Her brows lift, and I realize how harsh those words sounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” “Well, how did you mean it?” She sits on her bed and starts flipping through one of her notebooks, visibly irritated with me. I don’t blame her. It was clear from day one that she was excited about bonding with me, her new roomie. But I’ve failed her, too. Another person I’ve let down. Half the time, I’m not even here because I’m hiding out at my mom’s house, and when I am here, I’m closed off and irritable. Day after day, I’ve been in constant survival mode, which leaves me little to no energy. My best is gone, leaving Lana with nothing more than my sour attitude. “I’m just tired.” “You’re always tired,” she mutters with an eye roll. My phone buzzes in my hand, and I open the text Micah just sent. Micah: I’m on my way.

I watch Lana as she fixes her hair in the mirror, her bright neon-green T-shirt that displays her Greek letter in pink is blindingly over-the-top, but she revels in the fact that she’s part of that world with all of her sorority sisters, who are probably a thousand times more fun to be around than I am. Another text vibrates my phone, and without even looking, I swipe at the screen to

open it. Kason: Please don’t do this. Don’t assume that I can’t fix this when you haven’t even given me the chance. I’d do anything for you. You know I would. You’re my fucking sun, Adaline. You can push me away, break me, hurt me, kill me and I will still believe in you. I will still love you. But I’m begging you not to. Just give me a chance.

I quickly delete the message and turn on my side so that Lana won’t see the sadness in my eyes. Lost and lonely, I click over to Micah’s screen. Me: Please, hurry.

Disparity gnaws at the hollowness inside me. Micah: As fast as I can, Guppy.

There’s a loud knock on the door, and I quickly dry my face with the back of my hand before I sit up. When Lana lets her friends in, I attempt to busy myself with my phone as I scroll through a random celebrity gossip website. They’re loud, and when I glance up, my muscles stiffen in a blaze of shock. His eyes are on me, but he’s holding another girl’s hand. She’s wearing the same lettered shirt as Lana. With a flick of a nod, Liam gives me an indifferent, “Hey.” I’m numbed in paralization, tense with a rapid pulsing heart that I can feel down to my toes. I stare in horror as the girl looks up at him and gives him a beaming smile before asking, “You ready?” Lana grabs her purse as I silently scream No. Don’t go. That guy’s a monster! The words never leave my lips, though, and the moment the door closes behind them, I leap off my bed, fly across the room, and lock it. I’m breathless as I slip to the floor, terrified. Thoughts of him coming back and breaking down the door, stealing Lana’s room key to let himself in, anything just to get me alone again, flood my mind. I throw myself into a raging panic as my vision starts to flitter in and out of focus and chills prick along my skin. My breaths are too shallow, my blood is too cold, my mind is too scary. The dizziness overwhelms me, and I slump over to my side, cradling my knees against my chest, but I’m too afraid to close my eyes. Lying on the floor, unaware of time, I hold on to myself long enough to calm down. Not wanting to be here in case they all return after dinner, I force myself to my feet. I grab my backpack, which holds the books to the classes I don’t attend, and dump everything out of it. After pulling out a few articles of clothing from the closet, I shove them into the bag along with my toiletry case. I then grab my phone and charger before rushing down to my car. With deceit as my new friend, I text my mom. Me: Got into a disagreement with Lana. Can I stay the night with you?

Knowing she would never tell me that I couldn’t sleep in my old room, I start driving that way. Mom: Of course, dear. I’m working late, so if you go to bed early, I might not see you until the morning. Call me if you need me.

After pulling up to a red light, I quickly respond. Me: Thanks.

Then I send a text to Micah, letting him know to come straight to my house.



Thunder cracks loudly between sharp strikes of lightning. Lying on my bed, I stare out of the rain-slicked window and into the dark night. Gusts of wind wreak havoc, and I’m amazed by how strong the trunks of the palm trees are when they appear thin and delicate. They don’t budge, unlike the palm fronds that whip wildly above. I think about all the times I’ve stared out this very window, eager to catch a glimpse of Kason. Now nothing remains below but a torrential downpour that’s drowning the pool. How metaphorical. Micah texted a while ago, letting me know it was going to take him longer to get here due to the tropical storm. So, when the doorbell finally rings at nine o’clock, I breathe in relief. The second I open the door and see his familiar face, I fall into his arms, which catch me fiercely. Nothing has been the same since he moved away, and it hits me hard to have him back after these three horrific months. Comfort is all I’ve been craving, something I haven’t been able to find in a very long time. It makes me linger a little longer than I should in his hug as he nudges the door shut with his foot and steps us farther into the foyer. Without any words spoken, he holds me, and even though I feel like crying, I don’t. I can’t. I’m beyond drained, only having enough energy to break on the inside. I know Micah feels it, though. How could he not with how weak I am in his arms? He grips me tighter for a moment before pulling back. “Sorry it took me so long. The roads are flooded.” “It’s okay.” His eyes flicker in worriment as he stares at me with a multitude of unspoken questions. He opts to lighten the weight of this moment when he says with a hint of somberness, “I leave you for a few months and your world goes to shit.”

A breath of a laugh sounds from my lungs, but it only lasts a split second before my face drops. If he only knew how bad it really was. “Come on,” he says, draping his arm around my shoulders and walking us into the living room. We sit on one of the couches, and he angles himself to face me, pushing his fingers back through his long blond hair. “Talk to me.” “I don’t even know where to start. Everything has just gotten so off track.” “With Kason?” I nod and then shift away from that topic, adding, “And school,” because there is nothing I can tell Micah that wouldn’t be the same runaround I’ve been giving Kason. “So what’s going on with school? Why haven’t you been going?” “I just . . .” I shrug. “I just don’t have it in me. It’s the last place I want to be.” “Honestly . . . how much have you really missed? Can you salvage your grades?” “I wasn’t joking on the phone. I’ve only gone a couple times to a few classes at the beginning of the semester. Most of my courses I’ve never even shown up to.” “At all?” I shake my head. “It’s really bad.” “Damn,” he mutters with a heavy sigh. “And it’s too late to drop?” “No. But it’s past the deadline for my mom to get her money back.” “You’ve got to tell your mom, Guppy. She’s going to find out, but you can’t let these Fs hit your transcript.” The thought of my mom finding out that I’ve completely blown this scares me, and I lower my head to my hands. “She’s going to be so mad at me.” “Why didn’t you tell me this was going on? We talk all the time.” I drop my hands before looking at him and admitting, “I was embarrassed. I mean, I didn’t think it would get this bad, but then I realized how much I had actually missed. I knew I had screwed myself at that point, so I kept ditching. It just seems so easy for everyone else.” I release a defeated sigh and turn to the large windows that look out over the veranda and pool as the rain continues its lashing. I watch the storm, and when a low rumble of thunder sounds, I think aloud, “Maybe I made the wrong choice by staying. Maybe none of this would be happening if I chose to go somewhere else.” Inside, I know this is the truth, because I never would’ve met Lana. She never would’ve taken me out that night. I also never would’ve met Liam. I would’ve lost Kason if I had chosen a different college and left him, but at least we wouldn’t have been destroyed like we are now. I turn back to Micah, and with tears puddled in my eyes, I tell him, “I just don’t want to be here anymore.” “Then come to Miami.”

“And do what?” “Whatever you want,” he says, as if it’s that easy. “There’s no way my mother is going to foot the bill for that when she finds out I just wasted all of her money on tuition and dorm fees.” “So move in with me and Trent. We have an extra room we haven’t rented out yet.” “I can’t just move.” “Why not?” The idea of fleeing is crazy when my life is here in Tampa, with my mom. “I’m serious.” He takes my hands in his. “You’ve already pissed this semester away, so there’s nothing you need to stay here for, right? Just come with me when I head back. I’ll talk to my parents, but I’m sure they’ll be fine with you taking the third room.” I imagine what this would look like: A new city with new surroundings and no Liam. It would be a new beginning. I let myself get lost in the idea that I could actually free myself from this nightmare and escape this town. And before I know it, everything in me is telling me to run to Miami with him, but I don’t know how this could possibly work. “What about my mom?” “You gotta come clean to her.” “There’s no way she’s going to go for this, Micah. Not after I tell her about school.” “Is it really her choice?” He moves his hands to my shoulders and dips his head to look me straight on. “You aren’t a kid anymore. If you want to leave . . . leave.” His eyes hold the truth I’ve needed this whole time. He’s right. I’m miserable here. I feel like I’m dying a slow death, and I want out. No matter what she says, I know this is what I need to save myself from the suffocating memories this city now holds. I need to be in a place that doesn’t constantly remind me of this nightmare I’ve been living in. Micah’s offering me a lifeline I’d be stupid not to grab on to. “Are you sure? Do you need to talk to Trent?” “Don’t worry about Trent. I only need to get the okay from my parents. It’s their names on the lease.” Suddenly, the door to the garage opens, and when my mom walks into view, her eyes widen. “Micah, what are you doing here?” She then looks to me, taking in my splotchy face. “Is everything okay, Ady?” My pulse races anxiously, and I give Micah a pleading look for help. “What’s going on?” The concern in my mother’s voice only stresses me out more, because I know this is the moment I’ve been trying so hard to avoid. Micah takes my hand in his and gives me an encouraging nod as my mom walks into the living room and takes a seat on the other side of me. My gut twists in dread. “Well? Is someone going to say something?”

“You can do this,” Micah encourages. “Just tell her the truth.” “The truth about what?” Sitting up, I turn to my mom as my palm sweats against Micah’s hand. I take a hard swallow before closing my eyes and saying, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” Hesitantly, I look at her and see the worry splashed across her face. “What is it?” Micah gives my hand a little squeeze. “It’s about school.” Pausing, scared of what her reaction will be, I take in another deep breath and then make my confession. “I haven’t been going to my classes.” “What do you mean you haven’t been going to your classes?” “I never . . . I never showed up to them.” I watch as her jaw tenses, and it takes a moment for her to respond. “I need you to explain yourself. What about all those times you told me you were tired from staying up late studying and writing papers? Were those all lies?” “I’m sorry.” “You’re sorry?” Her voice pitches in total shock, and I cringe. We’ve never had lies between us until now. There’s so much I’ve kept hidden from her, and in my attempt to keep my secrets safe, I’ve deceived her numerous times. Her attention shifts to Micah, and there is a bite of irritation in her next words. “Do you fit into this in any way, because aren’t you supposed to be in Miami?” “I didn’t know about any of this until earlier today when we talked on the phone. That’s why I drove over.” “Does Kason know?” The mention of his name tugs at my slayed heart, and I can’t keep the pain from reflecting off every line on my face, and she takes notice. “Does he?” I drop my head and nod, murmuring, “Kind of.” “Kind of?” “Mom, I’m really sorry.” Her agitation manifests. “I need you to be very clear with the facts of this situation.” Being an attorney, I know she plans to grill me for a clear understanding, so I face the heat and lay it out there. “I only showed up to a couple of classes during the first week, but that’s all. I never went back.” “You never went? Never did any assignments?” She raises her hands in frustration and drops them hard onto her knees. “So you’re failing everything?” Again, I nod as my neck flames in heat.

“Why on earth would you do this?” “I don’t know.” “You need to do a lot better than that.” I choke up, because what could I possibly say that would excuse all this? Her eyes dart back to Micah. “I’m sorry, but Ady and I clearly have a lot to talk about. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” I clench my hand tighter around his, not wanting to face this alone, but when he leans in and says, “It’s okay. Just be honest with her,” I know alone is my only option. He stands, and when I walk him to the door and leave my mother fuming in the other room, he gives me a hug I wish would last forever. “The hard part is over, okay?” I nod against his chest and he draws back. “I’m going to go to my parents’ place and talk to them about Miami. Call me when you can.” “All right.” He drops a peck to my forehead with a friendly, “You got this, Guppy,” before walking out into the rain. I close the door to one storm and turn to face another. My mom, who is now standing with her hands perched on her hips, clearly watched our whole exchange. As I walk back into the living room, I feel the weight of my mother’s hurt from my lies and her anger from my cowardly truth. “Do you have any idea how it feels to realize my own daughter has been lying to me for months?” “I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was scared.” “Well, I am not in the mood for avoidance, so I suggest you start talking and explaining why you’ve put yourself in this situation.” She sits, and when I join her, I give her the same vagueness I fed Kason. “I don’t really know how to explain it. Everything has been off since I moved out, and I didn’t want to be there.” “But I thought that was what you wanted. You told me it was. You were so excited to be going there with Kason.” I drop my head, feeling the stab of agony when I think about how optimistic I was about Kason and me. “Speaking of which,” she adds, and I look up. “Why is Micah here and not Kason?” I slump my shoulders with an upsetting breath as tears lick the rims of my eyes. “Ady?” “I broke up with him.” She sets her anger aside and wraps me in her arms, and I crack, weeping in the pain of my many open wounds. “What happened?” she asks, stroking her hands through my hair.

“Everything.” I cry while she holds me, but she doesn’t let up on the questions. “When did this happen?” “Earlier today.” I pull back and wipe my face. “It all just fell apart.” “Why didn’t you tell me you two were having problems?” “Because I didn’t know how to deal with it. Everything is a mess right now, and I feel really lost.” “These things happen. A lot changes when you leave high school, and relationships don’t always last forever the way we would hope.” Her words are meant to soothe, but they don’t. “Look, I’m furious with you about school, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am here for you, so why don’t you move back home until you can figure out what it is you want to do?” But home isn’t where I want to be. “I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” “What do you mean?” “I just need a break, Mom.” “Well, if you don’t want to come home, then where do you want to go?” My hands fidget nervously in my lap. “Micah has an extra room at his place in Miami. He said I could stay with him and Trent for a while.” “Miami? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” “Why?” “Because!” she exclaims and then seems to settle herself a bit. “What are you going to do in Miami? And not to mention that I am not okay with you shacking up with two guys.” “They’re my friends, Mom. Would you rather me get a place all by myself?” “I would rather you move back in here with me,” she snaps. “But I don’t want to be here!” Tears spring from my eyes, and I drop my head into my hands again, completely helpless to escape this hell I’m living in. “You aren’t telling me why? What is it that’s making you want to run away?” “Nothing. I just want a little space.” “From Kason?” I lift my head and raise my voice between my tears, wailing, “From everything!” “What is everything?” My secrets bubble to the surface and threaten to boil over as my world comes plummeting down on top of me. It’s a raging war within my chest that’s hammering against the broken beats of my heart. I’m so lost and so alone, in fear of losing more than

just Kason because all I can do is push people away. So when my mom comes down on me again, questioning, “What on earth is causing all this erratic behavior? This isn’t like you,” I lose all strength. “Because something really bad happened to me.” In a split second, everything silences around us. I can’t even hear the rapid breaths that are kicking out of me. My mother stares in horror, and I instantly regret what I just said, wishing with everything I have to snatch the words out of the universe and burn them to ash. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want anyone to know. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing.” She grabs my hand, and when she feels how badly I’m shaking, her eyes intensify. “What happened?” I retreat into myself, terrified to say anything more. “Mom, please. Forget I said that.” “If there is one person in this world that you can trust, it’s me.” She reads my pain well as it slips from my eyes and drips down my cheeks. “Did someone hurt you?” Her question isn’t anything more than a fearful breath. She blurs in prisms of muted colors on the other side of my tears when I give her the faintest nod of my head. Her eyes water, and with a shallow breath, she gasps. “What happened?” Too scared to touch that gaping wound, I beg, “Please don’t ask me that. Don’t make me say it. I-I can’t. I just—” “Oh my god.” The chill in her voice tells me that she already knows without my having to speak the words I’m not ready for. I’m too scared to say it aloud. To put it out there in the world. Her hand starts to tremble against mine, and she covers her mouth with the other. In a slip of a second, she begins to cry and the guilt of my actions slam down on my chest. “I’m so sorry.” She pulls me into her arms, holding on to me tight enough to snap me entirely. An ugly sob rips from my chest, and I curl into her embrace as I try to hide from my own pain. Her hands press into me, and a second later, she begins crying along with me. Hearing her sadness feeds my blame for everything I did wrong that night. Not only did I hurt myself, I hurt Kason, too—and now my mother. How many more people will be affected by my bad choices from that night? The storm outside has nothing on the two of us. My heart’s been in shambles for months, but to be witness to my mother’s heart as it breaks before me is too much to bear, but I do. I listen to each splitting fracture as she weeps until I can’t any longer. When I push back, she quickly wipes her face, reminding me of just one of the many reasons why

I want to leave. My anguish alone is heavy enough for me to carry without having the burden of everyone else’s stacked on top. “Who?” she murmurs weakly before clearing her throat and strengthening her voice. “Who did this?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Like hell it doesn’t.” “It’s done, Mom. It was months ago.” Her red eyes fall shut, pushing out a few more tears as she hangs her head. She knows the laws better than anyone, and even though it’s her job to seek justice, we both know there’s nothing either one of us can do at this point. Too much time has passed. “Who else knows?” she asks when her eyes meet mine again. “No one.” “What about Kason?” I shake my head as the burn of his love blisters from within. “Is this secret the reason why you broke up with him?” I nod, saying on a hoarse voice, “It all just fell apart. I couldn’t keep lying to him.” “Maybe you should try telling him the truth. Kason loves you.” “I can’t.” She takes my hand in hers. “You have to talk about this with someone or it’s going to eat you alive.” “But I don’t want to talk about it. What’s the point? It isn’t going to change anything.” “Ady, it will help you deal with it so it doesn’t control your life.” I pull my hand away from hers as I reach my limit of emotions. “I just want to go. I can’t be here anymore. I can’t be in the same town where this happened because I keep running into him.” Her eyes widen in horror. “You mean the guy that did this?” “I’m going to Miami whether you say it’s okay or not,” I tell her instead of answering her question. “I have to get out of here.” “Maybe take a few days and we—” “That’s all I’ve been doing. Waiting. Waiting and hoping that maybe this would all get better if I just gave it time. But it isn’t getting better; it’s only getting worse. And now that I don’t have Kason . . .” I take a hard swallow before sniffing and blinking back a new slew of tears. “I can’t do this any longer.” “I’m scared for you.” “I don’t want to talk about this. Please—” “You need to. If not with me, and if not with Kason, then a therapist. But you have to

talk to someone.” “I can’t. Not now.” My phone chimes from its spot on the coffee table, and when I peer over, I see the text lit up on the screen. Micah: My parents said yes.

My mom is also looking at my cell and reading the text. She isn’t quick to move, but when she does, I see the defeat on her face. “I need to talk to his parents first.” Hope billows through my veins, and I sit up a little straighter. “So, you’re okay with this?” “What choice are you giving me?” She pauses for a moment, and I watch as another tear slowly makes its way down her cheek. I want to catch it, but I’m afraid it’ll burn me if I touch it. Pain is vicious like that. “I love you,” she eventually says. “I don’t want to lose you; I only want to keep you safe.” “It doesn’t feel safe here, though.” “I know it doesn’t. But I want to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself. If you go, will you promise that you will see a therapist. When you’re ready, I’ll make a few calls and get you set up with someone.” With reluctance, I agree. “Just give me a little time, okay?” She runs her hand along the side of my face. “Can you do something for me?” I ask. “Can you get my cell number changed?” Her brows cinch. “Why?” “Because I know it’s only a matter of time before Kason starts calling me. And as much as it kills me not to have him in my life, I just can’t do it.” My face crumples as I try to hold myself together. “I hate that you’re pushing him away and that he doesn’t know the truth as to why. He loves you so much.” “And I love him, too. I do. But I can’t put this on him.” I break for a second and then add, “I need you to do something else for me.” “What is it?” “Will you take care of him?” The tears simply fall with no effort at all when I think about him having no one to look after him. “He hasn’t had an easy life, Mom. He’s suffered more than anyone should, and even though he’s losing me, I don’t want him to lose you, too.” “He won’t lose me.” “I’m serious, Mom. He’ll push you away, but you can’t let him. He needs someone looking out for him.” She cradles my face in her hands. “I promise you.” I trust in her words because I know the bond the two of them share.

“Will you please reconsider talking to him about this?” I can’t because I know the truth of him. He was sexually abused himself and he carries the weight of that around with him every day. I couldn’t possibly pile my attack on him as well. It would only destroy him even more, put more weight and burden on him. His shoulders aren’t strong enough to carry it. That’s what I tell myself, but really, I never want him to look at me as the tainted girl I now am. He deserves better. He deserves stronger. He deserves what I once was but no longer am. So, I ignore her request saying, “Please don’t forget to change my number.” “I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”



There’s no purging myself of this pain that’s rotting in my gut. It’s been three days since she cracked my soul with her goodbye. I stood in the sand and watched her walk away from me as rivers ran down my face. Nothing has ever hurt as much as this—but it isn’t just her breaking up with me, it’s the why. She couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t admit it. I couldn’t even say the words myself, the words that have been aching in the pit of my stomach for a while now. I know her truth because the same shadows, the same pain and humiliation, that lingers in my eyes some days has been festering in hers. I’ve told the same lies, I’ve had the same nightmares, and I’ve done the same dance of withdrawal. I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the hole I put in the wall the other night when I couldn’t stop thinking about what we are both so afraid to speak aloud. It’s an intolerable agony that gnaws at my bones when I picture some motherfucker touching her—hurting her. I can’t even imagine how badly she’s suffering, and here I am, helpless and unwanted. I couldn’t say it, though. Say what we both know. We were both hanging by a withered thread, and I was terrified that one wrong move would send her running. She ran anyway. It’s killing me that she won’t let me take care of her. I’d rip my goddamn heart out of my chest for that girl. She’s my everything, but she won’t even let me try to pick up her pieces. I’ve been shoved to the side, but I won’t give up that easily. I’ve given her these past few days, hoping that the distance will help clear her head a little, but I can’t go on another day without her. I’m worried sick about her. I decide not to text her because it would be too easy for her to ignore, so I hop in my car and drive over to the dorms. I hate to barge in and intrude where she may not want me

to, but she’s buried so far inside herself, cowering so deeply in fear, that I’m afraid she’ll shut me out entirely if I don’t push a little. I park, and with each step I take, the urgency to hold her, console her, and heal her multiplies to exorbitant measures. I’m so fucking pissed and, at the same time, so damn sad. I’m worried about her, scared for her, heartbroken in the worst way imaginable. I want to find the fucker who did this to her and kill him with my bare hands. I want to rip and claw his skin apart, break every bone in his body. One hole in my bedroom wall isn’t enough. I want to tear this world apart, seeking vengeance for what was done to Adaline. When I approach her dorm, every nerve ending inside me is on fire, and I just need to have her in my arms. I knock, and when the door opens, Lana stands in front of me. “Is Adaline here?” Her brows furrow. “You don’t know?” “Know what?” I push my hand against the door and force it open, only to see that half the room is empty—Adaline’s half. My heart forgets its next two beats as I stare in shock. “Where is she?” “She moved out.” Anxiety blazes through my bloodstream, and when I turn to Lana, I feel every bit of its torture. “When?” She shrugs, looking confused herself. “Yesterday. I came back from class, and she and her mom pretty much had everything packed.” “Did she say anything?” “Just that she was leaving.” “Leaving to go where?” “I don’t know. It’s not like she really ever talked to me.” I want to shake every bit of information she has about Adaline out of her, but my need to simply find her for myself takes over. I turn and rush down the stairs. When I hit the parking lot, I sprint to my car, pulling out my cell and calling her as I do so. Then I stumble to a complete halt when the first ring cuts off with, “I’m sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” I bring the phone down to make sure I didn’t accidentally click on someone else’s name, but it’s hers that reads at the top of the screen. Ending the call, I tap her name again, only to be met with the same message. “What the fuck?” My stomach knots, and when I start driving to her house, it twists even tighter. I spend the whole drive calling her cell over and over, knowing I won’t reach her but hoping, irrationally, that there’s some glitch in her service that will somehow fix itself and connect me to her.

The thirty-minute drive feels like years as I roll through stop signs and curse the red lights. I turn a bit too sharply and squeal my tires when I pull into the circular drive in front of her house. No cars are in sight, but that doesn’t stop me from ringing the doorbell. There’s no answer. Panic erupts when I think back to the past couple of days at work. Cheryl has been on edge and stressed. It’s nothing that raised any sort of red flags with me, but now . . . now I’m freaking the fuck out. With no more cadence to my heart’s beats, I pace the driveway as I call Adaline’s mom. It takes four longs rings for her to answer. “Hi, Kason.” “What’s going on? Where’s Adaline?” My words come out in rapid-fire pace. Her only response is a heavy sigh, which does nothing for the hysteria running rampant through my body. “I’m trying really hard not to lose it, but someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on.” “Where are you right now?” “Your house.” “Can you stay there? I’m at the office, but I’m leaving now. Give me fifteen minutes.” “Just tell me where she is and why her phone isn’t working.” I swear it feels like someone has just stolen my heart straight from between my ribs, and I need it back—I need her back. “I’m freaking the fuck out over here!” “Don’t freak out, Kason.” Her tone is too controlled. “Go wait inside the house. The code to open the garage is ninety-one fifty-four, and the alarm code is the same number backward. I’m already in my car, so I’ll be there shortly.” Shoving the phone into my back pocket, I let myself in, but everything feels wrong. I run up the stairs to Adaline’s bedroom and find that the few things she left behind when she moved out are now gone. My throat constricts painfully as I try to keep myself from falling apart, but where the fuck is she? Powerless with anguish, I walk across her room and sit on the edge of her bed. Her scent is all around, and dammit if that doesn’t salt the gashes on my heart. I can’t lose her. With her sheets fisted in my hands, I go back to all the times I laid in this very bed with her, kissing her, holding her, loving her. My teeth clench as I strain not to cry, and then I hear the front door close and her mom call my name. I attempt to breathe and fail, leaving my voice coarse when I answer, “Upstairs.” Even I can hear the sadness bleeding through me. Cheryl walks in slowly with a cautious look in her eyes that worries me. She sees the pain I wear so vividly on my face and comes to sit next to me. I bite my cheek so that I don’t expose any more of my emotions than I already am, but I feel it. Feel the loss. Feel

the abandonment. Feel my whole world crashing at my feet. She rests her hand on my knee, and my head hangs lifelessly. “Where is she?” “She moved out.” Her tone is timid with its own slew of sadness. “Where did she go?” She doesn’t answer me, and when I lift my head, I see the pity she holds for me. I don’t want pity. I want to know where Adaline is. “Tell me.” Shaking her head, she says, “I can’t. She made me promise.” “Promise to what?” “She needs time, Kason.” “Time? She needs time?” I stand and pace across the room with my hand raking through my hair in utter frustration. “And her phone?” “Kason, I know this is upsetting, but—” “This isn’t upsetting, Cheryl,” I snap. “This is fucking killing me, so just tell me where she is!” Tears spill over and down her face. “She left town. There was nothing I could do to stop her.” “So, you just let her run?” “She’s eighteen. What was I supposed to do?” “She can’t be alone like this. You don’t understand.” “I do.” I take two strong steps toward her. “What does that mean? Did she say something to you?” She blinks in silence and another tear drops. “What did she tell you?” “She loves you very much—” “Tell me what she said,” I press. “It isn’t mine to tell.” My face drops. “She told you?” She nods as she wipes her cheeks. “You have to tell me.” Her head falls into her open palms, and I drop to my knees in front of her, begging, “I need to know what she said, Cheryl. Please. I need to know exactly what happened because all I have are thoughts that are fucking with my head.” “She’s my daughter,” she cries.

I sit back on my heels, helpless. “And she’s my everything.” She lifts her eyes to see me at my weakest. “I can’t lose her.” “I can’t, either. But this is what she needs, and we have to give it to her.” “So that’s it? She just vanishes, and I’m left with nothing?” Reaching out, she squeezes my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Like a razor, I feel the singe of heartache carving its way down my cheek. “Someone hurt her.” The words strain to come out. “She wouldn’t ever say it, but I knew.” I clench my eyes shut, forcing away the tears, and when I open them, I stand. “Don’t do this. Don’t keep her from me.” “I tried getting her to talk to you. I promise you I did, but she was insistent, and I didn’t want to push any more than what I already was.” “Is she coming back?” “She didn’t say.” That’s it. She’s gone, and I’ve never felt so empty. I love that girl with every piece of me, but I’m so furious that she would just abandon me—abandon us and everything we fucking have together. Here I am, ready and willing and wanting nothing more than to put her back together again, and she just runs away without so much as a goodbye. Vanished. Gone. “I’m here, though,” Cheryl says when she stands and walks over to me. “And I need you to know that you are far more to me than just a boy who dated my daughter. The one thing Ady was adamant about was that she didn’t want any of this to affect our relationship. These past couple of years, you have grown to be a part of this family.” “She threw all that away, just like she threw me away.” And before I let my anger get the better of me, I walk out. Cheryl says nothing to stop me, so I go. Slamming the front door behind me, I leave all the goodness that girl ever gave me behind. The drive is excruciating. Finally alone, I let it all out. I scream through tears that feel like acid on my heart. My god, she broke through every rib and forced me to feel everything. Every goddamn thing. Because of her, I faced my demons, exposed them, and shared them. I felt it all with her. I felt so much that I left myself completely vulnerable, and here I am. Fuckin’ broken and lost. I gave her everything, more than all of me. I fought myself day in and day out, trying to control the cravings that never went away—never went dormant. They’re alive and well, they always have been. But I starved myself—for her. To make her happy, to make her feel secure, to make her feel as if nothing was more important than her. And nothing was. She was it. She was the sun and the goddamn moon and stars. And she threw it all away like garbage. I have nothing if I don’t have her. God-fucking-damn, I love her!

How could she do this? How could she not trust me when I trusted her with every single part of myself. Every fiber I’m woven with, I gave to her, but she couldn’t do that in return. I pull my car into its spot and kill the engine. Maybe I was foolish. Maybe I gave too much. Maybe I’m not as lovable as she made me believe. This hurts. This is the worst imaginable pain there is. I could suffer in it. Let it fester inside. But why? What’s the point? Adaline was the only reason I tried to starve myself of the one thing that has the ability to quiet the voices that remind me every second of every day that I need this. That I need the indulgence to survive. But she left. And I won’t ever allow anyone else to hurt me like she has. With all lost, my head spins in a haze as I step out of the car and start walking. Pockets of dopamine combust and flood my veins with an unbelievable high that obliterates the misery. And like a moth to flame, I no longer see the point in staying away. I knock. Krista answers. I step inside. Maybe Adaline was right all along. Maybe I am an addict. At this very moment, I don’t care as I black out and lose myself to this ferocious appetite that I can’t see beyond. It’s a euphoria I never want to escape, because everything outside of this is too painful for me to bear.



As my body slowly starts to wake, I roll over onto my stomach before opening my eyes. The first thing I notice is the smell on the pillow—spicy with a hint of sweetness and undeniably male. My heart ricochets, and I lurch up, opening my eyes against the sleepiness that’s still cloaked around me. I panic. My eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar, messy room with guy’s clothing strewn about and start freaking out. Grabbing at the sheets to cover my half-naked body, I scream out as I kick my legs in a frenzy and fumble back against the headboard, terrified he’s still in the room with me. Tears flood my eyes, blurring everything around me, and I can’t catch my breath. The door flies open, and I gasp loudly before Micah comes into focus as he rushes toward me. “What the fuck happened?” he nearly shouts. In an instant, it hits me. I’m in Micah’s room in Miami. He took the couch so I could have the bed, and I feel like an idiot as I attempt to slow my breathing and calm my wildly beating heart, which just pumped excruciating amounts of fear into my bloodstream. I pull the sheet that’s clutched in my hands away from me to see I’m fully clothed, and I choke back a painful swallow of relief while I gain my bearings. “Are you okay?” Micah sits next to me on the bed, and I quickly wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, embarrassed by what he just witnessed. “I’m sorry. Bad dream, I guess.” The alarm in his eyes dissolves, and when I crack an uncomfortable smile to ease the tension, he exhales deeply. “Shit, Guppy, you scared the hell out of me.” He combs his

hand through his long hair, which is in a mess of tangles, and chuckles. “I fell off the fucking couch.” “I forgot where I was for a second when I woke up.” “It’s cool.” He doesn’t seem overly concerned, and I’m relieved that he doesn’t linger too long. When he stands to walk out, he asks, “Coffee?” “No. I’m good.” He closes the door behind him, leaving me alone while traces of Liam still hang in the air I breathe. For a moment, I thought I was back in his frat room. Tossing the covers off me, I try to clear the fog from my mind and check my phone. I only slept for two hours. After digging through one of my suitcases and pulling out my toiletries, I drag myself into Micah’s en-suite bathroom. I take a fast shower and pull myself together as best as I can before I have to drive to the airport to pick up my mom. The morning after I told her about school and moving, we drove over to Micah’s house so that she and his parents could discuss my moving in with their son. For obvious reasons, my mother had a lot of concerns, but when the details had been settled, I was much too eager to run away from Tampa. The following day, we cleared out my dorm room, packed the rest of my bedroom, and loaded everything into my car and Micah’s truck. That was it. Since I was on the road sooner than my mother could take time off work, she is flying in to spend the weekend to help me set up my new room. Micah has been nice enough to give me his bed for the past couple of days, but I know he can’t enjoy camping out on the couch. When I finally make it out to the living room, I find Micah sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal. “You hungry?” I shake my head at his offer. My stomach is still in knots from earlier. “I have to run by a buddy’s apartment to pick up his notes from one of the classes I missed. Want to come with me?” I walk over and sit on the couch that’s across from Micah, who’s in the oversized chair. “My mom is flying in today. Remember?” “When does she get in?” “About an hour.” He tilts the bowl to his mouth and slurps down the milk before setting it on the coffee table. Clearly, his mother purchased everything in here, all the furniture and décor. This condo is nothing what I would expect two college guys to be living in—it’s far too posh, but I’m not complaining. I’d live anywhere as long as it’s far away from Tampa and USF. “I can tag along if you want,” he offers.

“Thanks, but I’m sure she’d like to spend some alone time with me. I can tell this move has been hard on her.” I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been hard on me, too. Even though I wanted it more than anything, the finality of what it means for Kason and me has been nearly impossible to digest. I miss him. I missed him even before I broke up with him. That has only gotten worse with my being here and him being there. I miss him more than ever. I try not to think about it. About what it was like for him to discover I had changed my number—that I moved away and completely disappeared on him. I fight not to let my mind go to those thoughts because of the anguish they come with. Still, there isn’t a second that passes that I don’t endure the agony of the gaping hole in my heart where he used to be. I’m so empty without him, and if it weren’t for my mom coming into town, I’d still be hiding in Micah’s bed where I spent all day yesterday. Too terrified to face another day where my choices have left me miserable and lonely. The front door swings open, and Trent strides in, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts with his salty hair hanging in messy strands around his ears. “Morning, losers.” “What’s in the bag?” Micah asks. “Breakfast burritos.” Trent takes his surfboard out to the balcony and leans it against the wall before coming back in. He opens the white fast food sack and dumps a half dozen burritos onto the coffee table. “Surf was high, and I’m hungry as hell.” Sand still clings to his feet, and he’s quick to sit next to me on the couch and start scarfing down his food. He looks over his shoulder at me, and with a mouthful of sausage and egg, says, “Pardon my manners.” He makes a mockery of seriousness through his smart-alecky smirk. “You want one?” “No thanks.” He then turns to Micah. “You getting amped about next weekend?” “Yeah. I really need to get my ass back in the water this week.” “What’s next weekend?” “Surf competition,” he responds. “You already forgot?” I shake my head, but truth is, with everything going on, it totally slipped my mind. “You’re coming, right? There’s really no reason not to at this point.” “I don’t know.” “Dude,” Trent exclaims, dropping his burrito. “Why the gray cloud?” “Gray cloud?” “Mopey as shit yesterday. Perk up, buttercup. You’re in Miami!”

I wish I could get lost in his oblivion, but I can’t. For Trent, nothing else matters aside from surfing, eating, and scoring his next chick. Although, he’s observant enough to see I’m behaving differently, he’s clueless as to the reasons why. “You still hung up on Kase?” Hearing his name spoken so easily needles into my inward bruises only I know the depths of. For me to utter his name takes every ounce of strength I have. If spoken, it would deplete me, knock me to my knees, and drown me in tears. “Go easy on her, man,” Micah tells him as I stare between the two of them, unable to speak because I’m still trapped within the sound of his name. When Trent looks back at me, he sees my unspoken plight, and his face softens. “Too soon?” he says gently, and I nod in response. “I should get going.” I stand and grab my car keys before heading out. “Ady, wait.” Micah follows me out, closing the door behind him and walking with me over to the elevators. “Are you okay?” Again, with emotions residing just below the brim, I nod, but he doesn’t buy it. “I can tell you aren’t.” “Then why ask?” He shrugs. “Because I’m a little worried.” “Don’t be. I’m fine.” “You can’t lie for shit, you know?” he says with a hint of lightness. “I know.” Kason and I were together for way too long for me to simply be fine. “I just . . . I don’t really want to talk about it.” I drop my head for a moment, and when I return to him, I say, “If we don’t talk about it, then I won’t have a reason to lie to you.” He nods in understanding, knowing how entwined Kason and I were when we were together. “Deal.” The elevator’s doors finally open. “Call if you need my truck today. I’ll be around.” I shoot him a smile before stepping inside. The doors shut, and the elevator takes me down to the parking garage of the high-rise condo tower. I slip into my car and follow my navigation through the traffic of this city, and the moment I see my mother, I feel a weird sense of relief. Maybe it’s because she’s the only one I have no reason to lie to at this point. She knows. Without my having to speak the words, she knew. So if I’m down or teary, I know with her, I’m safe. I pull up to the curb and jump out of the car. “Hi, Mom.” Her arms are around me in an instant. This has to be so terribly hard on her. It’s so much worse than when I left home the first time. Then, I was only thirty minutes away. I

was still whole. Now, I’m across the state and broken . . . lost. We load her suitcase into the trunk, and when we start driving, I can sense my mom wants to discuss a thousand things, but she refrains. Instead, we spend the next couple of hours scouring a furniture store. We select a new bed, nightstands, and a dresser. Luckily, the store had a couple of delivery cancellations and they are able to squeeze us in on the schedule for tomorrow. Now, that all the big pieces have been purchased, we decide to hit up a few home décor places, but not before we grab a late lunch. Foreigners to this city, we fumble through the traffic before landing our eyes on a place called Peacock Garden Bistro. “That looks good. Pull in.” “You haven’t even seen the menu, Mom. How can you say it looks good?” I turn the wheel and pull in to find a parking spot. “It has ‘garden bistro’ in the name. That’s always a safe bet for delicious salads.” I shake my head, but I’m so unbelievably thankful for this day filled with distractions. And she’s right. This restaurant is perfect. We’re seated and then place our order of iced teas and salads. When the food is delivered, my mother releases a pleasing sigh before taking her first bite. I, on the other hand, am slow to start, still struggling with my appetite. On the rare occasions that I do find myself hungry enough to eat, it seems to shock my system and makes me sick to my stomach. Using my fork, I push the food around, taking tiny bites here and there. “What’s the matter, dear? Not hungry?” “Not really,” I mumble softly. She stops eating and wipes her mouth with her napkin before reaching across the table and resting her hand atop mine. I drop the fork and look at her. There’s the pity I’ve been trying to avoid. “I wish I knew what to do,” she says quietly, her lips tensing under the pressure of sadness, and I have to bite my cheek to keep my own under control. “I feel like we’ve just been walking around this ginormous elephant all day when there are a million things I want to talk about.” “What’s there to even say?” “Ady . . .” “Honestly, Mom. It is what it is and there’s no changing that.” With softening eyes, she tilts her head. “And what about Kason?” His name burns the much too tender tissue of my heart, causing my chest to seize slightly. “He stopped by the house yesterday. To say he was destroyed would be putting it mildly.”

“I can’t hear this right now.” “Ady, he loves you. I mean, I always knew he did, but seeing how broken he is . . . I guess I never knew just how deep that love went.” I pull my hand from under hers, needing to put a little space between us as she continues, “You vanished on him.” The weight of my actions press down on me, and I’m quick to blink back my tears. I can’t imagine how lost and helpless he feels right now, but as much as this hurts him, I know deep down that the alternative would be even worse. There’s no getting out from under this unscathed. “Maybe if you just called him . . .” I shake my head. “I can’t.” My voice cracks, exposing my deep-rooted pain. “You have to trust me. It’s better this way.” “I don’t believe that, Ady. Not after what I saw yesterday.” “You don’t understand. You don’t know the life he’s lived or how bad it’s been for him.” I choke up, having to take a moment to swallow the pain back. “I’m not doing this to hurt him. I love him. It’s just that I can’t put this on him. I care about him too much to do that to him.” “That boy would fight for you, there’s no doubt in me.” “But that’s just it. I can’t have him fighting for me when he’s fighting for himself every day,” I press. I don’t expect her to understand, though. His daily battle is a secret he trusted me with. But it isn’t just his craving that torments him—it’s everything else, too. It’s his mother, who is slowing slipping away with her liver failure, it’s the lingering memories that haunt him from years of sexual abuse, it’s the monumental stress of trying to create a better life for himself. It’s all these things and even more that assure me I’m doing the right thing. And on top of all that, it would be destroying everything he loves about me. It would be throwing the truth in his face that I’m no longer the good, wholesome girl that he was so proud to call his. I know that, in some psychological way, being with someone like me made him feel less dirty. My mother will never understand the depths of Kason and me. She doesn’t have to, either. I know that, with how much she cares for him, she will continue to fight for him. So, I do what I can to shut her down so that I don’t have to continue biting the stake of this choice I’ve made. “I don’t expect you to understand any of this,” I tell her. “But this isn’t just hard on Kason.” A tear abandons me, dripping slowly down my face. God, his name still tastes so sweet. She stands and moves to sit next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “I wanted him for forever.” I wipe another tear. “I know you did.” “And I never wanted to be in this position. I never wanted any of this. But I won’t ever be able to move on if it’s constantly being thrown in my face.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not trying to throw anything in your face. I’m just worried . . . I’m worried about the both of you.” “I’m worried about him, too. But I can’t continue to hear his name or be reminded about how badly he’s hurting. I’m already drowning in enough pain.” “Tell me what I can do to help,” she begs on a whisper. “Like I said before, just take care of him. He needs you. He won’t ever admit to it, but he needs someone watching over him.” “Already done,” she affirms, and I trust that she will continue to be there for him and support him. “What about you? What can I do for you?” It kills me to say what I’m about to say, and, yet again, I make one last wish to God to make this all go away. I wait as my eyes fill with absolute heartbreak, but I know there’s no saving me from this. Taking a hard swallow, I tell her, “Don’t talk about him anymore.” Her hold on me strengthens, and I feel myself shaking against her. “Love him and care for him, but I can’t be a part of that. Don’t mention him, talk about him, say his name . . . no matter what. Just keep him to yourself, okay?” “Are you sure?” I nod, unable to say anything else. Dropping my head onto her shoulder, I sit in the boundless agony of this situation for a few minutes until we are both able to regain our bearings. We straighten ourselves, both dabbing our eyes with our napkins, and when she speaks next, I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have her. “While I was waiting for my flight, I searched the internet and found a darling home décor store that isn’t too far from the condo. What do you say we go there next?” I smile at the woman I am so grateful for, and even though I need what she just gave me—a swift redirection away from the catastrophe that has become my life, I remain in it one more second to give her my heartfelt, “I love you . . . so much. Thank you.” She smiles endearingly. “You’re my favorite. I’ll do anything for you, and don’t ever forget that. No matter what, I’m on your side forever.”



I’ve spent the past two nights with my mom at her hotel. Not because I wanted to, but because I know she wanted me to. Where I want distance, she wants closeness, and to balm my guilty conscience about moving so far away from her, I didn’t put up a fight. Each night, I lay there—anxious—pretending to watch television until she fell asleep so I could use the light to get me through the night until the sun rose. When my mother started to stir, I rolled over and pretended to be waking as well. She’s already worried enough about me; I don’t need to give her another reason to be concerned. “It came together nicely,” she says as she adjusts a few of the throw pillows on my new bed. “What do you think?” My vision dissolves out of focus for a moment before I blink a few times, bringing it back into clarity. “It’s perfect, Mom. Thank you for everything.” She walks over to me and runs her hands down the length of my arms. “No thanks needed. I’m just happy I could come and help you settle in.” Stifling a yawn, I look around the space. It’s completely decorated in warm-toned modern décor. Fluffy pillows fill the bed and line the plush loveseat, which is situated next to the tall floor-to-ceiling windows. They take up a whole wall, giving me a perfect view of the marina and pristine yachts that line the piers. “You look tired.” “You’ve worn me out,” I say with a weak smile. “Well, take the next few days and relax, okay? You need to take care of yourself.” “I am.” She tilts her head slightly. “I see the dark circles under your eyes, and you can’t hide the fact that you’ve been dropping weight.”

“Mom . . .” “I’m just concerned.” “I know. But, I’ll be fine.” She folds her arms around me in a hug, and I close my eyes as I take in the affection. I love my mother so much, and not having her around when it’s only been the two of us for a handful of years is going to be tough. But not as tough if I were to stay in Tampa. “I’m going to miss you, Mom.” At my words, she squeezes me a little tighter. “I’m going to miss you, too.” The both of us have been treading carefully around what happened to me. Our conversation about Kason the other day at lunch is the closest we’ve come to touching the topic I’m so desperately trying to avoid. Still, in the constriction of her embrace, I can feel her pain and worry. It’s far past what words could articulate. In a feeble attempt to soothe, I rub her back as we continue to hold each other. I then spoon-feed her words not even I believe are true. “I’m going to be fine.” She pulls back with teary eyes and sniffs. “Promise me that you won’t wait too long to call Dr. Garrison.” “I promise.” My mother made a few calls before flying out here and found a psychologist she felt would be someone I could start seeing whenever I felt ready. She handed me his card yesterday morning when we were out at breakfast. I’d slipped it into my pocket, and she left it at that. Honestly, though, I doubt I’ll ever be brave enough to face this head-on. I’m so ready for things to go back to normal so I can get on with my life and forget all this ever happened. I love my mom and I need her, but she has to go because she only reminds me that this did happen. Her having to leave is still bittersweet. It’s an ugly tango, not knowing exactly what it is I need. I want to be consoled, but at the same time, I want to be left alone. It’s a push and pull that only makes me feel worse, leaving me helpless. I get one thing and wish for the other, only to get that and wish for the opposite. Then I grow frustrated and pray for an escape I can’t seem to find. I’m stuck in perdition’s labyrinth with no way out. The sound of Micah and Trent coming home pulls our attention, and when I step out of my room, the two of them are rifling through the fridge with their wetsuits peeled down to their waists. “Where’d all this food come from?” Trent remarks as he pulls out a bowl of watermelon my mother chopped up while they were surfing. “I couldn’t leave here knowing all you’d be left with was old boxes of takeout,” my mom says as we walk into the adjoining living room. “Sweet, Mom,” Trent boasts before popping a chunk of watermelon into his mouth. She’s humored by his demeanor, but I can read through her thoughts that say, “Are you

sure you want to live here with these boys?” “He’s a good guy.” Micah looks up from the bowl. “Thanks for the provisions.” “You’re welcome,” she says and then looks my way. “We should probably get going.” I give her a nod and walk into the kitchen to grab my car keys. “You leaving already?” Micah says. “I have to get back to work.” She then joins us in the kitchen to give Micah and Trent hugs goodbye, telling them both, “I’m counting on the two of you to look out for Ady.” “No problem, Mom,” Trent smarts with a smirk. “I’m serious. She’s my favorite thing in this world.” Being the sound one, Micah assures her, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Ms. Rees. Trent may come off as a careless ass, but—” “Dude! Where’s the love?” “But he’s a solid guy.” Mom looks between the two of them with a hint of apprehension. “Mom, stop worrying. Everything’s going to be fine.” She lets go of a worried sigh, which is loud enough for all of us to hear, and with reluctance, slowly makes her way to the door. “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I tell the guys. They say their last goodbyes to my mom and then we are on our way to the Miami airport. My mother holds my hand for the duration of the drive, causing me to dwell on the fact that she will be all alone back in Tampa. I tried to live there as long as I could, but I couldn’t do it any longer. I give her hand a little squeeze and repeat my lie. “It’s going to be okay.” Her smile is uncertain. “Look at you, trying to assure me when it should be the other way around.” The weight of somberness fills the air, and all too soon, we arrive at the departures lane. We both get out of the car for one last hug, and her eyes fill with tears. “Mom—” “I know.” She sniffles. “Everything’s going to be fine.” “It will be.” She draws back, and my heart coils when I see her sadness. “Promise you’ll call me every day.” “I promise.” And with a tight twist to my arteries, I force myself to ask, “And your promise?”

Her eyes soften. “I’ll always be there for him, and I’ll keep my word that I won’t ever mention him around you.” Her words are the final nail in the coffin, but I had to hear them once more because I can’t risk her forgetting how much I need to sever my ties with him—to save him—to save me. She runs her fingers back through my hair before kissing my forehead at the same moment some guy blast his horn and yells, “Move your car, blondie!” We both glare at the man. Miami is crazy. It’s a thousand times more congested than Tampa. It’s buildings upon buildings and people on top of people, half of them not speaking English. It feels as if this city should be a world away from where it is. “I’ll call you when I land. I love you,” she says, giving me one last hug before grabbing her suitcase. “I love you, too, Mom.” Then she’s making her way inside the terminal. Another blaring honk stifles out the sadness. The guy is practically hanging out of his window, and I snap, “Okay!” while tossing up my arms in surrender. “I’m leaving.” I fight traffic all the way back to Coconut Grove—my new home. Once I arrive at the stark white high-rise, I take the elevator to the fourteenth floor and walk into the condo. I never would have thought that I would eventually be living with Trent and Micah. But then again, I never thought I would’ve been without Kason. None of this was ever supposed to happen. But it did. And it’s landed me here. This is home now. I just wonder how long it’s going to take to actually feel like it. The two of them are in front of the television, neither one watching it since they’re both buried in their phones. “That took you forever,” Micah says as I walk through the open space. “Traffic.” The snick of a lighter draws my attention to Trent as he brings it to the joint that’s between his lips. “Dude,” Micah snaps. “Not around Ady.” “The girl knows we smoke,” he says before turning to me. “You’re chill, right?” “It’s fine,” I mutter as I continue back to my room, feeling the hollowness return. The distraction of my mother being here helped mask all this pain. But she’s gone. And he’s gone. Even I feel gone. With hardly any sleep these past couple of days, I crawl on top of my new bed and stare out of the large windows over the blue water that sparkles with the sun’s reflection.

I miss my old view. My chest tightens, and I will that thought away. “Everything okay?” Micah says from the doorway. “I’m just tired.” He steps into my room. “There’s a party tonight that we’re going to. You should come with us.” “That’s okay. I think I’ll sit this one out.” “You sure?” I nod, and he comes closer, eventually sitting on the edge of the bed. He stares at me as I continue to gaze out the window, but the moment I look up at him, I know he sees the heartbreak I’m trying to hide. “Is it because of him?” Another yank at my heartstrings, and I nod again. “I don’t have to go,” he says. “If you want me to stay—” “No. You should go. I’m fine. I think more than anything I just need to get some sleep.” His eyes stay on me for a moment, as if he’s trying to read into something deeper, before he disengages and stands. “Well, if you change your mind . . .” When he starts walking out of my room, I push up on to my elbows. “Micah.” He turns back. “Thanks.” I pause for a second. “For all of this. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” The corner of his lips lift slightly before he closes the door behind him. With the safety of the bright sunlight filling my room, I keep my thoughts under control by counting the yachts that line the docks. I count them forward and backward, over and over, until my lids begin to grow heavy and eventually fall shut. I spend the rest of the afternoon dozing in and out of superficial sleep. Each time I wake, my heart weighs a little more and the sun had dropped a little lower. The next time my eyes open, the sun is long gone and prickles of jittery anxiety ghost over my skin. I reach over to the nightstand and turn on the lamp before scanning the room. Everything is in its place. I pick up my cell that reads 9:54PM, and I call out, “Micah?” With no response, I slip out of bed and open my door to find the condo is pitch dark. My stomach tingles in fear, and I move from room to room, flicking on lights and making sure everything is locked. I leave the lights on and return to my room. When I slip back under the covers, I grab

my cell in an attempt to quell my nerves. I surf around the internet, but find nothing engaging. Eventually, I slide the phone under my pillow and stare out at the moon. In a single slip of a second, I’m taken back to all the times Kason and I were tucked beneath its silvery glow. It was witness to our first kiss, to so many declarations of our love that it feels like it was a part of us. The moon saw everything: every touch, every kiss, every drop of our hearts as we fell for each other. It heard every whisper, every secret. Before I even know it, I pull up his contact on my phone. I may have a new number, but the phone is the same. It holds photos that I’ve stored away in a separate folder, and all of our old texts that I’ve filed away, too. Abandoning all strength, I begin to read old messages from before everything fell apart. I read and read, each one carving a new scar into my soul. Scars that I swear will forever feel like kisses. Kason: I love you from a place I never knew existed, from a place you helped me find, from a place that’s ours and ours alone. Kason: Tell me you love me, baby, and I’ll tell you that I’m yours. Kason: You’re it for me, you know that? Me: Promise me forever. Kason: Forever. Until the sun dies.

Text after text after text, I read, until I’m typing my own. Me: I miss you.

I look down at the words, my heart beating from the depths of my gut, before deleting each letter—one by one. I set the phone on my nightstand and roll over, giving our moon my back. Cradling a pillow against my chest, I cry as shards of our love impale me deeply, reminding me of all this world stole from us. Memories bleed from my tear ducts, the ache radiating from the crux of my being. It’s a pain so excruciating that you don’t want to believe it exists. But it does, because I’m living within its cage. I keep my back to the window for the rest of the night because it isn’t just my moon out there watching over me. It’s his, too. It’s seen too much and heard too much. It knows my soul as it is stripped down to its core—it knows his, too. At this point, to look at the moon seems too intimate of an act for me to embark. So I don’t. At least not tonight.



“You almost ready?” I fold a light jacket and pack it in my small suitcase before looking over at Micah, who’s peeking into my room. “Yeah. Just about.” When I’m alone again, I check to make sure I have everything before zipping the case and heading out to the living room, where Trent is already waiting. His face is down in his phone, and when he finally looks up, he’s wearing a slanted smile. “What’s that look all about?” “Checked the surf report,” he notes mildly before getting amped up when he announces loudly, “Four- to five-foot swells all weekend! Shit’s going down.” “Let’s pack it up, man,” Micah says as he walks into the room. After locking everything up, the two of them head to the elevator with their duffle bags slung across their chests and their boards tucked beneath their arms while I wheel my suitcase from behind them. They talk excitedly about this weekend—the weekend I’m forcing myself to be a part of. This past week has been uneventful, and I’ve spent a lot of it alone while the two of them are in classes. They’re constantly in and out of the condo all day while I hide in my room. Both have tried to include me when they’ve gone out to hang with friends or get a bite to eat, but I’ve managed to find a way out of it each time. It was only a couple of days ago when the isolation started to feel as if it were beginning to suffocate me. I often find myself wishing for things to go back to normal, knowing all too well the strength and energy needed to make that happen. I can’t go back to normal when I’m not even acting like myself. So, when Micah brought up this surf competition again, as much as I wanted to say no, the old me would have said yes. That Adaline wouldn’t have missed it for the world. She would have gone, cheered on her good friend, and had a blast. Plus, there’s no doubt I would’ve raised major red flags if I had stayed behind.

Unfortunately, by the time I decided to go, the hotel was already booked out, so the three of us are in the same room with two double beds. I’ve already given myself three major pep talks since I woke this morning, but I’m here now, and I’m determined to take this valiant first step toward finding the old me and regaining a sense of normalcy. Once down in the parking garage, I load the bags into the back of Trent’s SUV while they strap their boards to the roof. When everything is secure, we pile in and head north to Deerfield Beach, which is only a short one-hour drive away. “After we check into our room, I have to find out where registration is and pick up my heat packet,” Micah says when he pulls open the door to the hotel’s lobby. I nod, following him in, and almost turn right back around and leave. The place is filled with people who will be competing this weekend, and I find myself a little uneasy with the large crowds. Normally, I would tuck myself under Kason’s arm, but I no longer have that comfort, so I force my feet to move. My fingers constrict around the handle of my suitcase as we stand in line to get our room keys, and Micah and Trent are oblivious to the panic that’s brewing inside me. Silently, I tell myself that I’m fine, that Liam is still across the state in Tampa, and that I have no reason to be freaking out. My head knows I’m being irrational, but my heart doesn’t, and I take in a slow breath to try to slow its tempo. “You good?” I look at Micah and fake a smile. “Perfect.” About fifteen minutes later, we have the key cards and are on the elevator. I park my suitcase against the wall and take a seat on the bed closest to the window, which has an ocean view. Trent flops down next to me, sprawling across the mattress. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” he teases, wagging his brows. “Uh-uh,” I chuckle. “We are not sharing a bed.” Those same brows drop and pinch as his hand flies to his chest, covering his heart. “Rejected.” He then addresses Micah, saying, “Are you hearing this, bro?” “Dude, Ady and I already discussed it. She’s sleeping with me.” “Snubbed for my best friend. You’re a harsh woman.” His theatrics make me forget about my anxiety from earlier. “You can’t be trusted,” I joke. “And he can? That kid has a hard-on for anything that moves.” Micah busts out laughing as he continues unpacking a few things. “That’s funny,” I tell Trent. “He says the same thing about you.” “No fucking respect for the bro code.” He then rolls off the bed and surrenders to the

one beside it. “Forever alone.” “Seriously? When have you ever been alone? Ever since I’ve known you, you had some chick attached to your side.” “Are you saying I’m easy?” My amusement grows along with my smile. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck.” “Dude!” Micah exclaims through another riot of laughter. “Guppy’s calling you out as a slut!” But Trent eats it up, lying there with his arms folded behind his head, wearing a cocky smile. “Gotta give props where props are due,” he says, winking at me. “You feel safe if I leave you with Ady while I go check in?” Trent eyes me. “She’s harmless.” “You sure about that?” Micah grabs his key card. “I’ll text you guys when I’m done.” I take a few minutes to unpack my toiletries and call my mom before Trent suggests we get out of the room. The two of us head down to the beach, where heats are already taking place for other age divisions. Trent runs into a few people that also go to the University of Miami with him. After he introduces me to them, he gets lost in conversation, leaving me standing awkwardly next to a tall brunette. “So, you’re here with Trent?” I give her a nod. “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.” “Oh.” My head darts in her direction. “No. I’m not his . . . we’re not . . .” She blushes. “Sorry. I just assumed—” “We’re just friends, that’s all. We went to high school together.” “Oh. Do you go to UM, too?” “I’m taking the semester off,” I tell her as I catch her staring off in Trent’s direction. She’s entirely distracted, and I chuckle under my breath before I catch Micah out of the corner of my eye. “Hey, what’re you doing?” he says as he jogs over to me and then looks to my right. “Kate. I didn’t know you were coming.” “Likewise. You competing?” “Yeah. Later today.” “We just came to watch,” she tells him. “A few of our buddies are surfing.” “Sweet.” He then turns to me. “I’m going to run up to the room and lie low for a while before my heat.”

“I’ll come with you.” “You sure?” “It was good meeting you, Kate.” “You, too. I’ll catch you later,” she says before walking over to her friends that are with Trent. I follow Micah back up to the room, where we just hang out and watch television. I ask him more about the competition, and he explains that today is a QS event, which means it’s a qualifying series to go to the ESA South Florida Surf Contest and compete on a national level. “I didn’t know this was something you wanted to do. I thought it was just a hobby.” “I didn’t want to tell anyone,” he says as we lean against the headboard and let the movie play in the background. “Why?” “Come on, Guppy. You know the stigma of being a product of South Tampa. Kids like us are expected to get our degrees and make something of ourselves in a respectable white-collar career, not catch waves for a living.” “Do your parents even know you’re here?” “No. It’s only a qualifier. Who knows if I’ll even make the cut.” “So, what made you tell me?” His eyes shift to mine, and after a breath passes, he says, “Because it’s you.” I smile at my best friend who swooped in and saved me, who gave me this new beginning, my chance at surviving. “I’m glad you told me.” He tosses his arm over my shoulders, and with an air of humor, adds, “Let’s just hope I don’t bite it out there.” “You won’t.” And he didn’t. He came in fourth in his division, qualifying for the next event that will take place in January. Micah was stoked, and after we came in from the beach, we cleaned up and went out to celebrate. Kate and her friends ended up joining us and then inviting us out, but both Micah and I declined—him claiming to be too tired and me being unwilling to push myself any more than I already had. Trent, however, opted to stay out a while longer. Unfortunately for me, I’ve been lying here next to Micah for hours. He passed out almost as soon as he hit the pillow. Trent stumbles in sometime after midnight, and I shut my phone down until I’m sure he’s asleep. The soft glow of the screen makes it a little easier for me to breathe, and I wonder how long it’s going to take for this adolescent fear to wane. Darkness is the monster that steals the safety of light, leaving me restless and with a mind that too easily drifts to places I’m scared to revisit. Memories surface, no matter how

hard I try to avoid them. Although Trent and Micah serve as a powerful distraction, it’s in moments like this where I’m defenseless. Even with the two of them in this room with me, I’m still alone because I’m without the one who is powerful enough to consume me wholly. Without Kason I’m empty. I never knew the heart could ache so badly. I’m not even sure how it’s still beating with it being as broken as it is. But it does, dragging me from one day to the next, never letting me forget how good it felt to be loved by him. “Hey,” Micah whispers from behind me. With my back facing him, he leans over my shoulder as I quickly wipe my teary cheeks. “What’s wrong?” I turn the screen to my phone off and dismiss him. “Nothing.” “Why are you still awake?” I easily think of a lie, but I’m worried I won’t be able to speak around the lump lodged in my throat. My silence lingers, and he nudges my shoulder, urging me to roll over, and when I do, I keep my eyes downcast. “Why are you crying?” When I don’t give any response, he sinks deeper into the covers and slips his arms around me. He holds me, a comfort I want to pretend is coming from Kason because he’s the one who finds a home in every tear I cry. But nothing about this embrace is familiar. Micah’s hold is softer than Kason’s, but within the softness, there’s strength. Kason always held me fiercely, as if he was dependent on the touch alone. There’s no urgency in Micah’s arms, as if he’s confident in his place with me. There’s something about it that makes me feel safe because there’s no fear in his bones, only assured strength. Strength I’ve been lacking in myself. Strength I’ve been unable to find in others because they’re too vulnerable around me. But not Micah. And with that, I let go for a moment, too tired of keeping everything locked inside. My body trembles as I allow a few tears to seep out. “Ady . . .” He breathes my name, and I tuck my head against his chest. “Tell me what he did that made you break up with him.” I shake my head against him because he has it all wrong. I can tell he’s painting Kason as the villain, but he’s a martyr just like me. We both are. The only villain is the one who ruined everything and was left unscathed. But I’m to blame, too, and I will never forgive myself for the part I played that night. As everything comes to brim, I fold into myself, but Micah only gathers me more. He believes my pain is solely for the loss of Kason, but more than anything, it’s about what happened that night—the night I can’t remember—the night that ripped me from the world I once knew. Within the blankness of those stolen hours, I was chewed up and spit out, forever marred. But it’s better that Micah doesn’t know the ugly truth. If his perception of me stays

untainted, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to find my way back to the girl he still thinks I am. So, I wrap my arms around him as well and attempt to hold on to that very hope.



“When did you drag your ass in last night?” Micah asks Trent as we’re packing and getting ready to head out. “Around one.” He shoves a pair of his shorts into his bag and zips it closed. “Girl wasn’t as down as what I thought.” “Did she bruise your ego?” “Hardly.” Standing in front of the mirror that hangs above the small desk, I tie my hair back and look at Trent through the reflection, asking, “What girl? You mean Kate?” “Yeah. She’d been eyeing me like a bunny all day.” I roll my eyes, and he catches me. “What’s that about?” I turn to face him. “Just because a girl thinks you’re cute, doesn’t make her a bunny. And it doesn’t mean that she’ll put out.” “I spent the whole night talking to her,” he defends. “Chick was giving off vibes.” I want to snap at him, tell him his behavior is disgusting and that I don’t like it at all. I know he’d never take advantage of anyone the way Liam took advantage of me, but still . . . “Dude, grab your shit and let’s go,” Micah tells him. They gather the bags, and I’m doing one last sweep of the room when Micah’s cell starts ringing from the nightstand. “Will you grab that for me,” he says, and when I pick it up and read the screen, I go still. Kason Stratton

In an instant, I’m closer to him than I’ve been since he last held me on the beach. My heart screams at me to answer the call, but I can’t move, no matter how badly I want to hear the sound of his voice. I can hardly even breathe as every cell in my body seizes. He’s here. He’s right here in the palm of my hand . . . everything that I want, everything that I miss. Each ring rattles my heart, making me question every decision I made that landed us in this position. Then the ringing stops, plummeting the boulder of our once burning love into the pit of my stomach. Like a faraway echo, I hear Micah’s voice filter in through the storm of thoughts in my head. “Ady?” And then it hits me. He wasn’t calling me. He was calling Micah. “Who was it?” When I finally look up from the screen, I find the both of them staring at me curiously. “Are you okay?” “Why is he calling you?” I ask, my voice a little unsteady. Micah’s expression turns cautious. “Who called?” Trent asks, but I ignore him, keeping my attention on Micah. “You talk to him?” “I did,” he says, dropping the bag from his shoulder and walking closer to me. “What did he say?” “Ady—” “What did he say?” I press, raising my voice, and he approaches me with two more steps. “He was upset and demanding to know where you were. I guess he figured since we’re friends that I would know.” My skin pricks in a sheen of chills. “Did you tell him?” “No. I mean, you never told me why you changed your number, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it was because of Kason.” I grow paranoid that maybe Kason might have said something to Micah about me. “I want to know what he said. What did he tell you?” “What are you freaking out about?” Trent questions. Again, we both ignore Trent, and I wait for Micah to answer me. “Like I said, he was worried and losing it, saying you’d disappeared and changed your number. He demanded to know where you were, insisting that I knew. I told him to fuck off and to just leave you alone. That was basically it.” He stares at me, and I know he sees my nerves raging from within when he insinuates with suspicion, “What is it exactly you want to know he said? Is

there something you aren’t telling me?” I shake my head as I cower into silence. The both of them look at me skeptically, and I take a moment before speaking again, asking, “So why is he calling you now?” “He’s been calling me this whole time.” I turn to Trent. “Has he called you?” He nods. “After Micah talked to him, he did, but he’d already told me to ignore Kason’s calls, so I never took them.” Flashes of a panic-stricken Kason sting my eyes, and I’m forced to bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. They both catch the movement anyway. My words break into pieces when I look over at Micah. “Have you been talking to him all along?” “Fuck no. I took that one call, that was it. I have no reason to talk to that loser. The only reason I even gave him the time of day after he cheated on you was because it was what you wanted.” “Whoa! Kason cheated on you? What the fuck?” Trent exclaims, never having known the truth to why Kason and I broke up the first time. “He’s been leaving voice mails,” Micah eventually says, drawing my attention back to him. “Does he hate me?” I ask, tears finally pooling in my eyes. “What does it matter? The guy treated you like shit.” Micah has no clue how untrue that statement is. Kason never, not once, treated me less than perfect. He loved me with everything and fought himself every single day to be the best he could—for me. But all Micah sees is a guy who cheated, not knowing the reason behind why Kason did what he did. “Is that why you broke up with him this time? Because he did that to you again?” As much as it kills me, I don’t deny his presumption. It’s so much better than him knowing the truth to our split. I don’t confirm it, either, but my silence is confirmation enough for him. He closes the gap between us, and I drop my head before he takes me in his arms. “That guy’s a piece of shit, Ady.” His words hurt so badly. I wish I were brave enough to tell him. To give him all the truths inside me, but I’m not. “Dude, I always thought that guy was solid,” Trent says, and when I step back from Micah, I glance over to him. “I’m sorry.” I shrug, and then notice that I’m still holding the cell. I turn it over to see that Kason left a voice mail, but too soon Micah takes it out of my hand. He makes a few swipes and taps on the screen. “What are you doing?”

“Blocking his number.” Another jab to my heart, but I know deep down that it needs to be done. It’s the only way for me to heal, and it’s what’s best for Kason as well. The sooner he can forget about me, the better off he’ll be. “Done,” he says and then shoves the phone into his back pocket. “He’s gone.” I swallow back the knot that begs to be ripped open, the knot that holds all the misery of missing Kason. Losing it in front of them isn’t something I can allow myself to do. I refuse to fall to my knees when I need their strength to move forward with my life. He picks up his bag and grabs his board. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Trent slings his arm around my shoulder as we head to the elevators, saying, “Forget about that chump.” If only it were that easy. “He’s right,” Micah agrees. “He isn’t worth your time.” I remain quiet and tucked under Trent’s arm as we make our way out to the parking lot. Micah ties down the boards while Trent tosses our bags in the back. “Ady.” I look over my shoulder to see Kate part off from her friends and walk over to me. “Hey.” “You all heading out already?” “Yeah.” “What’s up?” Trent says indifferently as he closes the hatch to the SUV. I catch her nervous smile as she watches him hop into the driver’s seat. When she finally drags her eyes away, she turns back to me. “Anyway, it was good hanging out with you last night.” “Same here. I don’t really have any friends here, so it was nice to talk to someone new.” No doubt my words are forced, but I have to do what I can if ever I want to expel the ever-constant ache that follows me around. “Well, hey, we should totally get together some time.” “That’d be great.” She pulls out her cell, and I give her my number. “I’ll call you this week so we can plan something.” “Sounds good,” I say before she jogs off to join her friends. When I slip into the back seat, Micah is already giving Trent a hard time. “Dude, Ady scored that chick’s digits before you.” “Shut the fuck up, man.”

“Don’t get all sensitive about it.” Trent throws it into reverse and pulls out of the parking space before shifting into drive. “That girl is already too interested. I can spot a clinger.” “What does that mean?” I ask. “It means I’m not down to have some girl suck all the energy out of me.” “You know what amazes me?” I shake my head in disbelief. “The fact that you’ve managed to hold your reputation together as well as you have.” “What can I say? Your boy has a heart of gold, and it keeps the girls flocking.” Even though Trent comes off as being arrogant, one thing is for sure, his heart is in the right place. He talks a good game, but he’s always looking out for me, even if it’s from the sidelines whereas Micah is in the trenches right along with me. When we arrive back in Miami, there’s a heaviness I feel while I’m unpacking my bag. It’s the same heaviness I’m determined to claw my way out from underneath. I’ve gained an inch, and I refuse to get pulled back. So I walk across the hall to Micah’s room and tap on his door. “What’s up, Guppy?” He smiles at me from his spot on his bed. “You think maybe the three of us could go do something? I don’t really want to be alone with my thoughts right now,” I tell him honestly, because the last thing I want to do is sit around my room while I type and delete texts to Kason. Micah sits up. “He hurt you that bad?” I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? I’m here now, and I’m trying hard not to look back so much.” He gets off the bed and walks across the room to me. Somehow, he’s able to lift the weight, if even for a moment, when he says, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He tucks me under his arm as we head out to the living room where Trent is. “Come on. We’re taking Ady to South Beach.”



The cold metal penetrates my shirt and absorbs into my heated skin that still radiates from the orgasm I just had. Wiping beads of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, I slack against the bathroom stall door, staring blindly down at the wad of toilet paper that’s floating in the water. My fucking disgrace. I started falling apart the moment Adaline began distancing herself from me, and now that she’s gone, I’m spiraling downward in a free fall. Stress and heartache do nothing but feed the craving that’s become so overpowering, I don’t bother trying to fight it. It wins every time. Every drop of misery triggers me. It screams through my veins, torments my body, and takes me as its hostage until I give in. And then it spits me out, leaving me buried beneath a mountain of shame. The more I hate myself, the more I give up on the idea that I could be anything other than the sexual deviant Adaline never wanted to believe me to be. God, I miss her. Shoving my dick back into my pants, I flush the toilet and compose myself before returning to my desk. My skin crawls in disgust for myself, hating that I continue to be so weak, still jerking off anywhere and everywhere, even in the bathroom stalls here at work. I busy myself, entering notes into the case logs, doing my best to distract myself, but she’s always there. She always has been. Ever since I opened my soul to her, she’s lived inside me and there’s no getting her to leave. She’s the breath I breathe, my life source, my everything. I’m constantly wrapped in thoughts of her with no hope of untangling myself. A part of me wishes I could just forget about her because the memories are too painful to carry around. But I do, because I have no other choice. She left me here to rot in the visions of how fucking perfect she was. Left my heart to beat in shades of purple and blue, bruised by the loss, leaving my ribs forever sore. My chest hurts constantly.

Heartache is a motherfucker. “You’re still here?” I look up from the file I’ve been working on to realize that everyone around me has left and it’s dark outside. “Everything okay?” Cheryl asks, her voice gentle. What a stupid question. I’m so far from okay I doubt I’ll ever come in contact with that feeling again. “Just trying to finish this before I head out.” She takes a seat in a chair from across my desk. “The files can wait until after the break. You should spend this time getting ready for your finals, not here, pulling late nights.” She’s right. Thanksgiving is in a couple of days, and then after that, it’s crunch time for finals before the semester ends. It isn’t as if I’m worried about not doing well on my exams. All I seem to do these days is bury myself in school and work—anything to distract myself from thinking about her. “Kason,” she says worriedly as she leans forward and lays her hand over mine. Without a single thought, I ask, “How is she?” Her face falls. I ask her this every day, and every day, she serves me the same bullshit answer. “She’s better.” I know it’s a lie. If she felt half of what I feel for her, she would be writhing in the agony over the breakup, but that isn’t what has me most concerned. It’s what happened to her that caused the breakup that has me steeped in constant torment. Knowing how broken she was makes me hate myself for not pushing her more, for not saying it aloud and forcing her to deal with it. I think of all the ways I could’ve helped her, if only one of us had the guts to speak the truth. That some guy put his hands on her. I look at Cheryl, jealous that Adaline gave her the secret she kept from me. “When is she coming back? How much longer is she going to hide from me?” Her thumb brushes over the top of my knuckles as I fist my hand in frustration. From the moment I found out she was gone, I’ve been doing all I can to track her down. I called the three people who know her the best, asking them if they know where she is. Molly said she hadn’t spoken to Adaline since the summer. Trent has never answered my calls or texts. But Micah, I only spoke to him once. The asshole told me to fuck off and leave her alone, but I couldn’t. I called and called, until eventually giving up last week. Everything inside me says that he knows exactly where she is. “You can’t look at it like that, Kason. She isn’t hiding, she’s just doing what she has to in order to heal.”

“It should be me. I should be the one to heal her.” “It doesn’t work like that,” she says. “She has to do it for herself.” My hand clenches tighter as emotions fire off inside me until frustration takes over. I slam my fist against the desk, causing Cheryl to startle. I push my chair back and start packing the files so I can work on them at home. “Kason . . .” “I’m done talking about it,” I mumble before grabbing my keys and standing. She follows as I make my way out to the parking lot, and when I open my car door and toss the files in, she reaches for my arm, and I lose my composure. “What the fuck did I do? Can someone please tell me why I’m the only one who doesn’t have a clue where she is?” I kick the door shut. “I’m the only one that should know! But I don’t. Instead, I have everyone either lying to me or dodging me. It’s fucked up!” “We have to just trust her, Kason. Trust and support her and the choices she’s making.” “How can I support her if I can’t even fucking hold her? Do you have any idea how hard this is? To know—” I rake my fingers through my hair. “To know what happened and to be powerless to help?” “But you are helping. I know it isn’t how you want it to be, but giving her this space is helping.” “Just tell me,” I exhaust, my voice severing as agony slices through me. “Tell me where she is.” Like a weak boy, I fall into her arms the second she holds them wide for me. She rubs my back, consoling me as if she were my own mother. Selfishly, I take the comfort she’s offering because it’s the only relief I’ve been given. It was only two weeks ago, after my mom kept asking where Adaline was, that I finally told her we had broken up. Sure, she hugged me and told me she was sorry, but my mom has never taken a deep investment in my life. Not like Adaline’s mother, who consistently checks in on me. I told her she could stop, that I could find another place to work, but she shut me down, saying, “Our relationship is not one of obligation. I care about you and what happens to you, whether or not Adaline is involved.” Stepping back from her, I press my palms over my eyes in a lame attempt to mask my sadness. There’s no hiding it, though. It’s so thick and so raw I can taste it on the back of my tongue. “What can I do?” I drop my hands and look at her. “There’s nothing you can do.” “I’m leaving town tomorrow, but if there’s anything you need, you know you can call me.” “She isn’t even coming home for Thanksgiving?”

“Ady thought it would be easier this way.” My muscles tighten around bones when I think back to last Thanksgiving. It was the three of us together and everything was so perfect. I remember holding Adaline in my arms while we lay in the hammock under the moon. She was always so warm against me. Cords in my throat constrict, and before I allow myself to sink into a place of feeling too much, I say, “Tell her I love her,” before getting into my car and speeding away. My vision blurs momentarily, and I hate that I allowed myself to go to that place where the deep-seated pain is rooted within the core of me. I know better than to let my guard down the way I just did. I’m far from strong enough to manage these feelings, which is why I bury them down and then medicate myself the only way I know how. It’s the one thing that can take me from the lowest low and catapult me to the highest high, making my head trip out to a place where nothing else exists except me and euphoria. Pulling up to a red light, I take out my cell, fiending for an escape. Me: You home?

The light turns green, and as I’m driving, my cell vibrates with her response. Lauren: I’ll leave the door unlocked.

I can already feel the rush spreading through my body and down my limbs. I met Lauren through a hookup app. I started using it when my cravings grew beyond the capacity of what I was willing to let Krista know. I can still recall the look on Adaline’s face when I confessed to her how many times a day I get off. It’s a look I never want to see again, especially from Krista. Although, that number is no longer relevant because it’s so much higher, which is why I now have two other girls other than Krista I can turn to. The nice thing about this app is that everyone has the same common denominator—no strings attached, casual hookups. There’s nothing I need to explain, and no guilt I need to feel about using them the way I am. I have enough guilt of my own to manage, I don’t need theirs thrown at me, too. When I arrive at her townhome, the front porch light is on and the door is unlocked just as she said it would be. I walk in, and this chick is already naked and waiting for me on her couch. There’s no talking involved as I drop my pants and fuck her. I stare down at her body, and that’s it—I’m completely lost in a wave of sexual mania that’s out of my grasp of control. All I can see, taste, touch, feel, and hear is this—this right here. I’m gone, no longer a being, trapped within the confines of my skin. There’s no more weight, no more boundaries. This girl lets me go places with her that no one else I’m with allows me to go, only feeding my hunger to want more, giving me higher highs than what I knew before. But with those exquisite highs come the excruciating lows that follow. It hits me violently when I get back into my car. The numbness dissolves and the self-loathing fills the vacuum left behind. I hate myself for being so impulsive, for being so lewd, for being so dirty. There was a time when sex felt holier than divinity, but that was because of Adaline. With her, it was something else completely. She wasn’t this inanimate object like the others are. She was warmth and softness, love and trust, heart and my goddamn soul. She made me feel worthwhile and important. She made me feel whole.

And now? Now I’m nothing. I’m worthless and self-serving, and I know it. She was it, the only thing worthy of my trying to be better. She’s gone, and I’m all alone, discarded and weak. So, what’s the point? How could she do this? How could she throw me away like a piece of garbage? No explanation. No goodbye. No nothing. How do you do that to someone you love? I wish I could understand, but she wouldn’t give me that chance, either. Now, here I am, a foul excuse for a human, who’s hopelessly in love with the ghost of my past.



Pressure on my shoulder wakes me with a start, and I thrash up in alarm. I choke on a loud gasp, causing me to cough a few times before I realize it was Micah’s hand that was touching me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” “It’s okay.” I take a slow blink and exhale against the heart that’s thumping in my chest. “What are you doing?” “You’ve been sleeping all day. I thought I’d come wake you. You’ve got to be hungry.” My eyes find the window, and I frown. The sky has dimmed to a deep, fiery orange with the setting of the sun. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” “Are you feeling okay?” “Yeah. Why?” He takes a seat on the edge of my bed. “I hardly ever see you because you’re always in here sleeping.” I force a laugh, shake my head, and brush him off, saying, “No, I’m not.” His brows rise. “Yes, you are.” “What can I say? I guess I like napping.” He looks straight through my fakery, though. “Seriously . . . what’s going on?” “You know what’s going on.” He eyes me for a beat too long, making me worry about what it is he’s thinking. “Not buying it.” My defenses fly up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You broke up with Kason two months ago. I mean, how long does it take to get over someone you dated less than two years?” “That isn’t fair.” But he’s right. It’s already December, and even though I still think about Kason often, the pain is starting to lift. No longer do the thoughts spark immediate tears. Micah just doesn’t know that Kason has never been the reason for my new sleeping patterns. Those are a product of something far worse. “I know something is off.” “Because I nap during the day?” I give him with a roll of my eyes. “And because I know you aren’t sleeping at night.” My eyes deadpan on him as my spine stiffens. “What are you talking about?” “My room is right across from yours. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, and there’s always a light shining out from the bottom of your door.” “I fall asleep with the lights on,” I lie. “You cry in your sleep, too? Because I hear you. You’re quiet, but I can still hear it.” The chill of the truth streams beneath my skin, and I grow nervous that he’s seeing through cracks I thought I was masking. Not wanting to even entertain this conversation any longer, I toss the covers off me and crawl out of bed. “I have to get ready. I overslept and I’m supposed to be going out with Kate.” I walk over to my closet and start pushing through the hangers to find an outfit to wear. “What’s going on?” Micah eventually asks, now standing a few steps behind me. His suspicion irks me, and I wish he would just drop it. “Nothing. I already told you.” “You wouldn’t be getting pissy if it were nothing.” I yank a top off a hanger and turn to face him. “Pissy? Seriously, Micah?” “What do you do all night when you don’t sleep?” I had grown used to Kason tiptoeing around me, and that has only been reinforced by my mother continuing to do the same, so having to face Micah, who is throwing his concerns in my face, knocks me off guard. I stammer, my tongue dancing behind my lips to find my next lie, but he’s quick to cut me off. “I’m not trying to be a dick.” “Try harder.” I walk over to my dresser and get a pair of shorts, but when I walk past him, he grabs my arm. “You’re one of my best friends,” he says, his face lined with seriousness. “All I’m saying is that I’m worried about you.” “Don’t be.” “You don’t get to control that. If I say I’m concerned, then I’m concerned.” “There’s no reason to be. I’m fine.” He tugs my arm, forcing me to take a step toward him. “If you don’t want to talk, cool.

Don’t talk. But you don’t have to lie to me. At least give me the decency of saying, ‘Yeah, I’m dealing with shit, but I don’t want to talk about it.’” He’s treading too close to the flame, and although he doesn’t deserve my petty lies, I’m scared to give him one shred of the truth. So, I avoid both and opt for silence. After a moment, his fingers loosen from around my arm and drop down to my hand as he says, “I’m here. If ever you want to talk.” Then he lets go and walks out of my room, closing the door behind him. He leaves me alone and entirely rattled with his spot-on observations of things I thought I had been hiding so well. But one thing I’ve gotten good at is deflection. It’s what I’ve been doing since I moved out here two months ago. I’ve embraced avoidance, and in my efforts, I’ve befriended Kate. She’s been the perfect distraction for me. When I’m with her, my mind rarely ever drifts, and the newfound friendship has given me something to focus on rather than the disaster that is my life. I take a quick shower before fixing my hair in a simple, sleek ponytail. By the time I’m slipping on a pair of sandals, I hear her voice when Trent answers the door. As I walk into the hallway, I glance into Micah’s room to see he’s sitting on his bed with his face buried in his phone. He looks up, and our eyes lock. There’s no expression on his face, but there’s still tension lingering. “Ady, come on,” Kate calls from the living room, and I break the contact, dropping my eyes away from him and walking to the front of the condo. “You ready?” “Yeah.” As I step farther into the room, I’m shocked to see Trent reading one of his textbooks. “What are you doing?” “Studying.” I crack a humorous smile. “Have you ever done that before?” He drops the book onto the coffee table and flicks his highlighter, sending it spinning down to the floor. “Shit’s got me stressed out.” “What are you talking about? Nothing stresses you out.” “My mom has been up my ass lately about her expectations of decent grades.” Kate walks over, picks up the book, and reads the cover. “Macroeconomics. Who do you have?” “Carson. Tuesday and Thursday. Why?” She hands the book to him. “I have Carson Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So, if you need help . . .” “You actually understand this?” “Enough to be managing a B.” “I have a C . . . barely. Can you stop by tomorrow morning? I don’t have class until noon.” Kate’s eyes brighten, but when I look over to Trent, I can tell he doesn’t even notice.

“Nine?” He nods and then heads into the kitchen with a casual, “Cool,” before opening the fridge. “Let’s go,” I sigh, pushing her toward the door. Kate’s had a maddening crush on Trent ever since she laid eyes on him. It was evident to me when I first met her last month at Deerfield Beach. I’ve never said anything to Trent because, whether or not he thinks she’s attractive won’t change the fact that he has no interest in girls beyond the physical. Of course, I’ve already told her that, but she’s still holding out hope. We head over to Lulu for dinner, opting to sit outside to enjoy the bearable warmth of winter. The night glows from the white twinkle lights that are wrapped around the trunks of the palm trees. This will be my second Christmas here in Florida, and I still can’t get over the fact that it’s December and I’m outside, wearing shorts and sandals. “Were you able to get any of the classes you wanted?” Kate asks. I decided to enroll in the University of Miami. Sitting around the condo with nothing to do was only making everything harder for me to deal with. It didn’t take me long to realize that things would never go back to normal unless I start to get back to normal. So, I told my mom my plans to enroll when she was here last month for Thanksgiving. “I mean, I didn’t really want any classes in particular. I only enrolled in gen eds.” “I’d die of boredom if I only filled my schedule with gen eds,” she says before taking a bite of her salmon. “Well, that’s because you already know what you’re majoring in. I have no idea.” “We should check to see if there are any seats still open in some of my classes. Who knows? You just might find an interest.” I take a sip of my iced tea. “In communications? What is that anyway?” “Advertising . . . public relations. You know, marketing and helping people promote their businesses. And Miami is the perfect place for that. Just think about all the night clubs and parties.” “I’m not the partying type.” She smiles. “Maybe not now,” she says, adding a wink for emphasis. I just laugh. It isn’t as if Kate is a party animal, by any means. For the most part, she’s laid back and goes with the flow. She also surfs, which is how she initially met Micah and Trent. But she’s social and has a lot of friends. On several occasions, she’s tried to get me to come out with her when they all get together, but I always find an excuse not to go. I used to love going out to parties back in high school, but now, just the thought of being in a crowd can trigger a wave of panic to come crashing down on me. “So,” she eventually says, inquisitively dragging out the word with a smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She drops her fork and leans her elbows on top of the table. “What’s up with you and Micah?” “What do you mean?” “Oh, come on!” she exclaims while rolling her eyes. “What?” “You’re kidding me, right? Tell me you aren’t blind to how he looks at you.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh my god. No,” I tell her. “It isn’t like that at all. Like, at all, at all.” She purses her lips with a doubting glint in her eyes, to which I defend, “I’m serious. We’re just good friends. And if he’s giving me looks, it’s only looks of concern.” “Concern?” “I used to date his best friend. We broke up right before I moved here,” I tell her without going into any details. “So, he was your shoulder to cry on?” she says with gossipy intentions. She makes me laugh, and I blow her off. “Does it look like I’m crying on anyone’s shoulder,” I tell her, giving her the illusion that I’m much stronger than I really am. Even though I’ve been vague about my recent past, just the fact that I have someone new to talk to, and a girl, has made life a little bit easier. With Kate comes a breath of fresh air I’ve desperately needed. Ever since I left Texas, I’ve struggled to make girlfriends. I miss the closeness I used to have with Molly, but that friendship is long gone. Then there was Lana, and let’s face it, we never really had anything in common. But with Kate, it’s simple and easy. She may be teasing me about Micah, but the girl hardly pries, which has been a blessing. Our friendship has been building on the here and now, rather than delving into our pasts. Heck, this is the first time I’ve even mentioned having a boyfriend prior to my move here. “Well,” she says, picking her fork back up and stabbing it into a spear of asparagus, “it would be an attractive shoulder to cry on. You know? If you ever do decide you need a good cry.” She then pops it into her mouth, and I have to shake my head at her while she chews. If she only knew how much he was irritating me before she showed up at the condo, I’m sure she’d be singing a different tune. But that’s nobody’s business, and I’m quick to change the subject when I suggest, “How about we walk around and do some last-minute gift shopping whenever we’re done. I still need to pick up a few things for my mom.”



“You ready to go?” Micah asks when he pops into my room. “Yeah.” I shove my textbooks for the day into my backpack and zip it. Slinging it over my shoulder, I catch the smirk on his face. “Is something funny?” “You weren’t lying about never going to classes,” he notes, to which I sneer. “Easy on the eyes, Guppy. But you can leave the books at home. First week is nothing but getting the syllabus.” “What if I need them?” He slips his hand under the strap of my bag and pulls it off my shoulder. “Trust me, you won’t.” He takes out the texts and tosses them onto my bed, leaving my spiraled notebooks and folders inside. “Here.” “Thanks.” I take my bag, which is pounds lighter, and follow him down to the parking garage. The two of us were able to coordinate our schedules enough so we pretty much have the same class times a few days a week. Though, we don’t actually have any together. “You need me to walk you to class to ensure you aren’t going to skip out?” he teases, completely unaware of how deep his comment actually cuts. “Very funny.” He laughs and gives my knee a squeeze as we make our way over to the university. The holidays came and went slowly. My mom flew over for Christmas because I still couldn’t stomach the idea of going back to Tampa. It was great seeing her, but at the same time, I was miserable, having to pretend to be better than what I really am. I don’t need her to know that I’m not sleeping at night, that I’m terrified of the dark, that I still find myself crying when I try to fill in the stolen hours of my life. How did it happen? How did he touch me? Where did he touch me? Was it violent? These questions

still haunt me. And then there was Micah’s surf competition at the beginning of January. He did amazing and ended up making the top ten. It was a great trip and a momentary distraction from everything else. I was so proud of him and happy that I was there to see how excited he was to do so well. It’s been three months since I left Tampa. Week by week, the gaping hole in my heart where Kason was ripped out of me is slowly starting to heal. But it isn’t as if I still don’t hurt from the mere thought of him—I do—just not as badly as I used to. When my mom was here for Christmas, I wanted to ask her how he was doing, if he has moved on, if he hates me, if he forgives me, if he knows how much it killed me to leave him behind. I never said anything, though. Instead, I bit my tongue so often that it eventually bled. Now, here I am, taking another step into this new beginning of mine. A fresh start at a new school that will hopefully help guide me back to the old me. I stare out the window in awe as Micah drives around the campus. Students file along the sidewalks that hug the impeccably manicured lawns, which are lined with beautiful palm trees. Everything is bright and fresh and feels nothing like the USF campus at all. Optimism makes an appearance, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, I’m actually excited. Micah parks his truck, and since we have some time before classes start, he leads me on a brief tour, pointing out the buildings where my classes are. He then takes me over to the Student Center, which backs up to a beautiful lake with grand palm trees. Nothing about this place reminds me of my time at USF. As we walk across one of the bridges, I stop and lean against the railing to take in the view. When Micah sees the subtle smile on my face, he leans in close, saying, “You should’ve been here from the start.” I look at him, feeling a bitterly sweet pinch inside me, and nod. Because no matter what choice I would’ve made, in the end, I would’ve lost Kason. If I had been here from the start, I wouldn’t have had to endure the nightmare of that horrific night. “At least I’m here now.” He casually drapes his arm around my shoulders, and we begin walking again. “Come on. You don’t want to be late on your first day.” We head back over to the Memorial Building and make plans to meet up after our classes are done before we go our separate ways. When I make it to my class, most of the seats are already taken so I find an empty one toward the back. I pull out my notebook and watch as students file in until every chair is occupied. I glance to my side where an overly tanned girl sits. She wears a shirt donning her Greek letters, and I look away the moment my gut twists in memories of Lana. As soon as the professor takes his place behind the podium, I open my notebook. After a brief introduction, he hands out the semester syllabus. As the stack gets passed around from student to student, my eyes catch on a guy seated a few rows down. In a split second, my body pricks in chills, and I swear to God, it’s Liam. I’m frozen solid, staring at the back of his head in the fear I’m trying to hide. Everything in me screams to leave this

class, but I can’t move. I can barely breathe. “Hey,” the girl next to me whispers while giving me a nudge. I turn to her and find that she’s holding out the stack of papers for me. “Oh, sorry.” I take one and pass the rest along, my focus fixing back to the guy, and I’m finally able to let go of the breath I’ve been holding when he turns around to say something to a girl seated behind him. My lungs deflate as I get a good look at his face, which is nothing like Liam’s. Dropping my head into my open palm, I realize I’m sweating, and I give myself a quick pep talk and do my best to refocus. I hone in on the professor as he goes through the class outline and explains the curriculum, all the while, feeling the flames of lingering fright burning low in my gut. I’m one of the first out of the classroom after he dismisses us, and I find my way to my math class, which is in the same building. I have about ten minutes before it starts, so I settle myself against the wall as classes empty out. At one point, the walkway becomes entirely too congested, flaring my anxiety as everything closes in around me. I shut my eyes, standing flat against the wall, and when I open them back up, the crowd of people is already dissipating. As I wait, a few more students gather by the door that’s still closed. Pulling out my cell to disconnect from my stress, I find a text waiting for me. Kate: Trent is an asshole!

I read the text a couple of times, wondering what on earth he could’ve done before responding. Me: Why? What happened?

I wait for her to text me back, but I see the first text she sent me was nearly an hour ago. When the door opens, I wait for the class to empty out before shoving my phone back into my pocket and stepping in. This time, I opt for a seat in the front row. It’s another hour of going over the syllabus, but all the while, I can’t shake the irrational feeling that Liam is seated somewhere behind me. I know he isn’t. I know I’m safe here in Miami, so why do I still feel the ghost of him? Before I know it, the hour is up, and I’m heading across the lawn to the Cox Building for my last class of the day, which doesn’t actually start for another hour. I find a spot next to a palm tree to wait and pull out my phone. Kate: Are you at the condo? Me: No. I’m on campus, waiting for my class to start. Kate: Thank God! I’m here, too. How long until your next class? Me: An hour.

I then tell her where I’m at, and ten minutes later, she’s walking over to me. “What’s going on?” She drops her bag onto the ground before plopping down next to me. “I swore I’d never be this girl.” I raise my brows, and she goes on to say, “I found out that Trent slept with my friend’s roommate. And before you say anything, I know I’m being stupid . . . but

still . . .” “You aren’t being stupid.” “I am, and I hate that I’m letting this crap get to me. I’m serious, I’m so not the girl who obsesses over a guy.” She starts picking blades of grass. “Has he always been this way?” I nod. “He means well, and I promise you, he isn’t a bad guy. He’s just a free spirit and does his best not to lead girls on. I’ve only ever seen him be upfront with that.” “I get it. I just . . . I really like him, and I’m stuck in the damn friend zone.” “I know you like him, but I assure you that you’re better off having him as a friend,” I try to convince her. “He’s too into his own thing to make a good boyfriend, and you’re too good to sell yourself short just to get the satisfaction of hooking up with him. That isn’t who you are anyway.” She then yanks out a wad of grass and tosses it out in front of her with annoyance. “Don’t you ever tell anyone that I’m desperately crushing on a guy like this. It’s majorly embarrassing.” “Your secret’s safe with me.” We hang out a little longer before she has to get to one of her classes, and not much later, I’m sitting in my last one of the day. Once it’s over, Micah is waiting for me outside. “How was it?” “Good.” I lie, and he buys it with no questions asked. By the time we get home, my nerves are shot and I’m tired. What I was hoping for today, I didn’t really get. No matter where I turned, I couldn’t escape the fears that are still inside me. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that I’m fine and I have nothing to worry about, I still can’t shake it. I can’t make it stop. I wanted freedom and normalcy, but what I got was a hard slap in the face, reminding me again of all the reasons why I’m not normal. When I wake the next day, I’m plagued with the same fears, but I don’t quit, because I can’t. Somehow, someway, I have to get past this. So, day after day, I get up and go to my classes. Day after day, I suffer through silent panic and fright. Day after day, I press forward while remaining in the same place with no distance gained. Day after day. Week after week. It’s almost February now, and I’m no better. Exhaustion is burning me out, and I’m more scared than what I was before. Maybe it’s the stress of constantly being around so many people. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep finally taking its toll on my body. Maybe it’s simply fighting too hard for something I might not ever get. I’ve considered taking sleeping pills, and I’ve even contemplated stealing some of Trent’s pot to help get me through the night, but I’m too scared something might happen to me if I knock myself out. What if someone breaks in and attacks me? I’ll never know

because I will be doped up. I don’t ever want to be in a position where I won’t be able to remember something that’s happening again. Night after night, I sit in bed, mindlessly flipping through the channels, passing one infomercial after another just like I’m doing now. I drop the remote and pick up my cell and scroll through the app store, only to find that I’ve played nearly every game already. Swipe and tap, swipe and tap, scroll, scroll, scroll. And there he is. His name that I find myself coming across every night in my prison of boredom. Defeated and still holding out hope that I can beat this, I run my finger over his name —Kason Stratton—until the red delete button appears. It isn’t the first time I’ve done this, knowing well that I don’t have his number memorized and if I ever did erase it, it would forever be gone. But tonight is different. I’m barely hanging on to the end of my frayed rope. Part of me is numb while the other is too aware. My finger hovers over the end, and with a silent I love you sent up to our moon, wishing somehow he’ll hear it, I close my eyes and touch the screen. Delete. Before I can even mourn the loss, my door opens, startling me. “I knew better than to believe you were falling asleep with the lights on,” he gloats with a humorous smirk, but his busting me on my lie tumbles straight through to my heart, which is breaking all over again. His face swims out of focus, and when I blink, tears fall and he’s already by my side. “Ady, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick.” I wipe my cheeks before wrapping my arms around him because I’m so needy for compassion of any kind. He holds me, shifting me over on the bed to make room for himself. I squeeze him closer when I think about never feeling the warmth of Kason again. It’s a pain that emerges from my core, a pain I’ve been able to stifle, but with everything bearing down on me, my strength’s depleted. I can’t do anything while I lie here and take the affection Micah offers as he slips his fingers through my hair and presses me against his heart. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” I shake my head, needing him not to push me, but he isn’t one to coddle every request of mine like Kason used to. “For months, I’ve laid in bed and stared at the light that shines beneath your door, worrying about you and wondering what it is that keeps you up at night.” “I’m stressed.” It’s a half-truth. “If you tell me it’s Kason, I’m going to tell you that you’re a liar.” I slip my head out from under his chin and look at him. His eyes are set and so are mine. Both at a standstill until I say, “Then don’t give me a reason to lie to you.” “Why would you want to? What is it you’re hiding?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” With an unexpected tender touch, he runs his hand along my cheek, angling it up so that he’s looking down into my eyes. “It’s me, Ady. What are you so afraid of?” My heart begins to thump in an unusual way, and for a moment, I consider what my fears of him knowing would be. As I stare up at him, I don’t see the brokenness I used to find in Kason’s eyes. Micah, from everything I know about him, is secure and strong and without a horrid past. He’s free from pain and baggage, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what my truth would do to him like I did with Kason. What if Micah is steady enough to handle knowing what happened to me? Okay, maybe he is, but am I? Am I ready to see how his view of me changes? Am I ready for him to know just how dirty I am? How stupid and trusting I was to allow something like this to happen to me? “I’m afraid of everything,” I admit, my voice trembling because he’s edging too close to my secret. “Even me?” A lock of his long blond hair falls across his forehead, and I go back and forth on whether I should brush it back behind his ear. Why do I even want to? “You’re my best friend,” he says, and something about his innocent words makes it okay for me to reach up and tuck his hair back. When I do, he wraps his fingers around my wrist, holding my hand still beside his face for a moment before letting go. There is something more than that simple touch pulling me toward him, so when I rest my head back over his chest, I make my request. “Can you just hold me for a little while?” Without another word spoken, he does, gathering me in his arms. We lie here for I don’t even know how long as the tempo of his heart’s beats begin to lull me. And to my surprise, I find myself eventually drifting under heavy lids in the safety of the lit room and his arms. And for the first time in a very long time, I’m able to fall asleep before the sun ever touches the horizon.



“Are you sure you don’t want to come? Kate’s going to be there,” Micah says. I pull a can of soda from the fridge and look over to Trent and Micah who’re standing in their board shorts, ready to head down to the beach. “I really need to study for these midterms.” “Since when did you become an overachiever?” Trent quips. “Far from it. I’m barely hanging on to a C in my biology class.” I pop the tab and take a sip. “Tell Kate to call me later.” As both of them gather their surf and skimboards, there’s a loud knock on the door. Trent walks over, and when he looks through the peephole, he jerks his head my way, whispering, “It’s Kason.” My heart leaps for a split second before I dart my eyes over to Micah, who’s mouthing, “What the fuck is he doing here?” Another knock sends my pulse racing, and as much as I want to run to him just to feel the comfort of his arms, I take a step back, murmuring, “He can’t know I’m here.” “Micah,” Kason calls, and my chest caves in at the sound of his voice. “What the fuck do I do?” Trent frets. Micah then turns toward me. “Go to your room and lock the door.” On wobbly knees, I do exactly what Micah tells me, locking the door with hands that won’t stop shaking. What is he doing here? Voices amplify, and I press my ear against the door, straining to hear just a trace of his beautiful voice I miss so much, but there’s no need for straining when I hear him shout in aggravation, “What the fuck? Why are you ignoring my calls, man?”

“Dude, how the hell did you find out where we live?” Micah questions. “Rhett told me.” “What are you even doing here?” “Where’s Adaline?” There’s an urgency in his voice that grabs on to one of my heartstrings and yanks, choking me in the anguish of my desolate heart that just won’t get over him. “I know she told you; you guys still talk, right?” “Let her go, Kase. She’s gone, and if she wanted you to know where she went, she would’ve told you.” A scuffle sounds and something gets knocked over at the same time Kason seethes, “Stop fucking with me, and tell me where she is.” “Dude, chill,” Trent shouts over Micah’s and Kason’s cursing. “Just leave the girl alone.” There’s a span of silence, and I have to bite my lip to keep myself from calling his name. God, my heart aches so much with him here right now in total desperation and unwilling to lose me. But he needs to. He has to give up on me because he’s only going to prolong this pain we both need to get over. Micah speaks, and my stomach sinks under the weight of his lie when he tells Kason, “She went back home to Texas.” “Texas?” “You’re only going to make things worse by chasing after her. Like I said . . . let it go, man.” I wait to hear his voice again, but it never comes. The only sound is the slamming of the door, catching me by surprise. “Ady?” Micah says cautiously from the other side of the door I’m still leaning against. “I’m fine.” My voice is unsteady as the tears bleed through the broken seams of my heart. “I know you aren’t fine.” “I just need to be alone right now.” “You sure?” “Just go,” I tell him, and again, the next sound I hear is the closing of the door after the two of them leave. In the safety of isolation, I crumple to the floor and weep, clutching my heart because I swear it feels like the shards of what’s left of it are stabbing me from the inside out. I lose myself in an avalanche of gut-wrenching agony. Hearing how distraught he sounded . . . I’m lower than what I’ve ever been. Lower than what any human should be, but here I am, drowning in the misery there’s no escaping from. I cry because I don’t know how else to relieve myself of this pain. I keep thinking that if I cry hard enough, maybe one day it’ll just disappear. I know better, though, but it

doesn’t stop me from indulging in my irrational thoughts. I hang on until my body tires and I’m nothing but a depleted pile of hopelessness. Dragging myself off the floor, I slip into bed, I look out the large windows to the marina down below, and like so many times before, I begin to count. One boat, two boats, three boats, four . . . until my mind is free enough to finally rest. “You can’t turn down a drink when you’re in someone’s house. I’ve heard it’s bad manners.” I look at Liam as he holds out a cup for me. When I take it, I swallow down a big gulp before saying, “It’s good. What is it?” “Just a little punch.” His smile is infectious, and I notice a slight dimple in his left cheek. “You want to dance?” Looking over to everyone having fun as they move along to the beat of the loud music, I smile. “Yeah.” A little too eager, I hold out my hand for him to take and swallow down another gulp. He leads me to the center of the crowd, and suddenly, we’re dancing. He moves flawlessly as I throw my arms up and tilt my head back. I lose myself to the music, not even realizing his hands are slipping their way down my sides. The touch is exhilarating. He then takes the cup from my hand and lifts it to my lips. “Drink,” he says before pouring the remaining liquid into my mouth. Once consumed, he smiles, tosses the cup, and wraps my arms around his neck. I don’t resist his touch as we continue to dance. When I reach the point that I can no longer feel how happy I am, I lean against him, nearly tumbling, and ask, “Can we go lie down somewhere?” He leads me up the stairs, and with each step, my legs begin to numb until I’m no longer moving on my own. Until he’s carrying me. I giggle as he drops me onto the bed, but I quickly snap out of my humor when his eyes narrow and he begins to remove his clothes. I try to push up on to my elbows, but I can’t move—I weigh too much. “What are you doing?” I panic when he rips his underwear down. “What the fuck does it look like?” He then grabs ahold of my waistband and violently yanks my shorts and panties off. My heart ruptures, spilling gallons of bile into my veins as I scream. My bones thrash and punch, I can feel them, but when I look down, I’m paralyzed. There’s no movement at all. Blood from the razors slicing my vocal cords choke me, silencing me . . . Jolting awake, my eyes flick open and my body jackknifes up, throwing me into consciousness. Panic strikes fiercely, and I gasp against a strangled cry as I fist the sheets in my hands. My eyes dart around the room, and as I take in the familiar surroundings, I’m able to inhale a decent breath. “It was just a dream. It was only a dream,” I whisper to myself repeatedly until the

chilling prickles along my skin begin to wane. Looking out of my window, the sky is a tad darker, and I wonder how long I was asleep. “Micah?” I call out, and when no response comes, I know the two of them are still out surfing. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I drop my head to my knees. With no one home, I allow my walls to crumble, and I cry through the terror that has its claws sunk into me, holding me to the flames of every fear I’ve been fighting against this whole time. Thoughts of how I behaved that night puncture wounds I led myself to believe were healing, but they’ve been open all along. Did I really come on to him like that? Did I practically ask for it? Am I the one who holds all the blame? I close my eyes, and I’m back in that frat room, waking up naked from the waist down. Did I enjoy what happened? Did I moan and say his name? Did I scream and shout no? Or was I passed out and dead to the world? Each unknown is a dagger impaling into my lungs, and before I know it, I’m struggling to breathe. A million questions stab me, throwing me into a turnstile of panic, and when I brace my hand over my heart, I feel it hammering against its cage. Every gasp provokes more fears, and I cry even louder as my body attacks itself in this colossal storm of confusion and horror. “Jesus, are you okay?” Trent shouts when he bursts into my room, and the intrusion ignites an unexplainable eruption of fear. He rushes toward me, and my hands fly out in front of me as I yell on a strangled breath, “No!” I fumble back on the bed until I’m flat against the headboard. “Don’t come near me!” His eyes are wide with alarm, and he takes a cautious step closer to me. “What the fuck happened?” “Don’t touch me!” “Ady, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” “Don’t touch me!” I cry out, my words splintering as tears sting my eyes. The walls are closing in on me, crushing down on my chest, and then I hear Micah yelling from afar before he appears. “Don’t come near me,” I warn when he steps into the room. “What the hell’s going on?” “She was freaking out before I even walked in.” Micah then turns to me, and as he stalks across the room, closing the gap between us, I rise to my knees with growing panic, begging in fear, “Please stay away. Stay away. Stay away.” “Fuck that,” he mutters as he climbs onto my bed. The second his arms band around me, I fold into him and release a god-awful agonizing sob. It pours out of me like acid, burning holes through every single wall of

mine. “Give us some privacy, man,” he tells Trent, and when I hear the click of the door closing, his arms strengthen around me. He doesn’t say a word, and for the first time, I really cry. I wail for stolen moments and broken souls. For all the pain I’ve caused everyone around me. For the lies. For the fears. For everything that’s been ripped away from me. I cry until my limbs are lifeless and my cheeks burn, until my heart deflates and my soul is dangling by a withered thread. I cry until there’s no more crying, only half breaths and trembling bones that Micah is still holding on to. Through bleary eyes that ache beneath swollen lids, I watch the sky darken. Micah gives me the opportunity to completely drain myself, never once saying a word, until I’m limp in his arms, and it’s in that moment when I feel I can’t go on that he says, “I won’t let you stay quiet any longer. Whatever this is, you have to tell me.” I blink with eyelids that feel like sandpaper. “I’m just so tired.” “I don’t care.” He sits up and pushes me back a little, forcing space between us. “What’s going on?” I drop my head into my hands and somehow manage to blink out another tear. He takes my wrists and pulls them down. “Why won’t you talk?” “Because I just can’t.” My voice is so strangled in exhaustion that I barely recognize the sound. “Why?” “Because it’s really bad, and I’m scared.” “Of what?” “Of everything,” I say, closing my eyes and feeling the streams running down my cheeks. He pulls me to him and hugs me with so much strength. “Of me?” I nod, and he’s quick to respond, saying, “I swear to you, Ady, there is nothing that you need to be afraid of when it comes to me.” “It’s humiliating.” “No. God, don’t feel that way. Not with me.” I slip my arms around him, knowing I’m at my end. Knowing I can’t go on like this. That holding it all inside is destroying me. “I don’t know how to do this.” “It doesn’t matter,” he assures. “Whatever it is you tell me, I’m here for you. I promise you.” “I don’t know what to really say because I don’t even know what happened.” “Just tell me what you do know.”

I take in a deep breath that is filled with so much hesitation I have to force the air all the way into my lungs. Then I waver back and forth until I finally release it, saying, “I woke up after going to a party.” As soon as those few words come out, I stop. I then notice how tightly I’m clinging myself to him, but I can’t let go. I’m too scared. He doesn’t let me struggle alone though when he starts to guide me. “What party?” “Some Greek rush party my dormmate took me out to. Kason had to work the next morning, so it was just her and me.” “What happened?” “I lost track of her and then ran into this guy that I had met earlier that day.” I say this and can feel the constricting of his muscles around me, and I wonder if he already knows what I’m so scared to say. “I was so stupid.” “Don’t ever say that.” “But I was,” I weep, his shirt soaking up the agony I’m left with from making such foolish choices. “I followed him back to his frat house without my roommate. I didn’t even know the guy.” Micah drops his cheek to the top of my head with a pained sigh. “What did he do?” My body quakes as I try to silence my cries, but I’m too weak, and I’m too exposed right now. “That’s the thing . . . I don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know?” I stall, afraid he’ll never look at me the same way, afraid he’ll lose all respect for me, afraid he’ll blame me. “Don’t shut down on me,” he whispers, and I hear every bit of his worry. “Whatever it is you’re afraid to say, you can trust me.” His hand moves to the back of my head, and as he cradles it against him, I knock down my very last brick and expose the truth. “All I remember was drinking something that he gave me one minute, and then the next minute . . .” He hugs me harder. “The next . . . the next minute, I woke up, and I . . . I was naked, and he . . . he was in the bed next to me.” “Fuck,” he breathes harshly, and I begin to cry all over again. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me.” He pushes my shoulders back and holds me firm in his hands. “Mad? Why would I be mad at you?” “Because I was so stupid to—” “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he questions with fervent eyes piercing through me. “Some motherfucker rapes you, and you think this is your fault.” I flinch the moment he says what I’ve been hiding from. What Kason was always too afraid to say, and what my mother has avoided all this time. I want to scour it away and pretend it was never said, but he sees me shaking, and his face drops when I tell him, “No.”

“No, what? “You can’t call it that.” His brows pinch. “Ady—” “No,” I snap, knowing it all along, but actually hearing that word . . . someone speaking it and putting it out there in the universe . . . gives it life and meaning and relevance that I’m not ready to deal with. Micah’s jaw grinds down, and his eyes fall from mine. When they finally come back to me, they’re rimmed in unshed tears I’m responsible for. “I’m sorry.” “Stop fucking saying that. Don’t you dare think that you played a part in any of this. You don’t even need to say another word because it’s so damn clear what the hell happened and what he did.” “I don’t want any of this to be happening.” I fall back into his arms. “I just want it all to go away, but it won’t. I’ve been trying so hard.” “I know,” he murmurs, tucking my head beneath his chin. “But you can’t keep going on like this and ignoring it.” “I don’t know what else to do? I feel completely lost and disconnected from myself.” “Is this the real reason why you moved here?” “Mostly,” I tell him. “It was also Kason. I couldn’t tell him what happened, and the secret just tore us apart. I was scared to be on campus because I had run into the guy a couple times after that night.” “Did you tell anyone?” I shake my head. “My mom knows, but I didn’t tell her. She just pieced it together the night you came over. But you’re the only one that knows anything.” There’s so much tension in his body, but he never lets go of me. “And at night . . .” “It’s embarrassing.” “I want to know.” I take a moment before admitting, “Ever since that night . . . not being able to remember anything . . . I’ve been scared of the dark. That’s why the lights are always on.” He takes my face in his hands and presses his lips to my forehead. When he pulls back, I feel so guilty for the tears in his eyes. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” I shrug. “I don’t know.” For now, he simply holds me, never loosening his grip. He promises to make this better, but we both know there’s nothing that can be done to take away what’s already happened. It’s a horrible feeling to realize how powerless you actually are. I do my best every single day to fight, only to be reminded how feeble and weak I truly am. No matter

how hard I push, that one night has managed to take control over my life. Sometimes I think it would’ve been better if I had been conscious. At least then I would know, and I wouldn’t have to be haunted by all the missing pieces. It’s the not knowing that scares me the most. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone in this, because I’m right here with you. However you need me, you have me.” And within those words, I find a sense of contentment I’ve been without. I want to tell him how much he means to me, how thankful I am to have him and for letting me move in with him. I want him to know how grateful I am for his strength and for not tiptoeing around me. His persistence is what finally gave me the ability to say what I’ve been so afraid of, and now that I have, there’s a tiny part of me that feels relief in someone finally knowing.



Micah never left my room last night. His arms never fell from around me. He never pushed me to talk beyond what I had confessed to him. And in return, I never asked him to leave my bed. When the sun set, I didn’t even have to tell him to turn on the lights, he just flipped on the lamp from the nightstand. As tired as I was from crying, I still barely slept. To say the words aloud for the first time brought everything back to the surface in a fresh new wound, making the few times when I did manage to doze off, fitful and brief. I felt Micah stirring a while ago, but he’s yet to speak. Lying in his arms, I stare out the windows and finally break the silence. “There are five hundred and eighty-two slips, but there’s only five hundred and nineteen filled.” Micah props up on to his elbow and looks down at me. “What are you talking about?” Keeping my eyes fixed on the water down below, I tell him, “The marina. There’s only five hundred and nineteen boats.” When I shift to my back, Micah is looking out the window. “Is that what you do all night? Count boats?” “It helps pass the time.” In the heaviness of the room, he drops his attention to me and attempts to cut through it when he grins, teasing, “And how many times have you gone cross-eyed?” I smile, thankful for his effort at levity. God knows I need it right now. “How many days have I lived here?” “You’re going to kill your eyes, you know that?” Somehow words fail the both of us, leaving behind a foreign intensity that hangs overhead. Neither one of us looks away, and I watch as his smile fades along with mine.

Seconds that mimic minutes tick by, and in the stillness of the room, my breathing sounds louder than it should. Micah’s hand moves to my forehead and slowly pushes back a few strands of unruly hair. It’s a simple touch, but nothing about it feels simplistic. It’s too soft, too tender. “I feel like I should say something.” “I don’t want you to,” I respond, worrying that he will bring up what I told him yesterday, so I divert. “I’m really tired.” He gives me an understanding nod that tells me he won’t push. I shift back to my side, and he does too, curling around me from behind, reminding me with his actions that he meant what he said yesterday—that I’m not alone. And with the rising of the sun, I’m finally able to get some sleep for a few hours before movement rouses me. Micah gets out of the bed, and I turn to watch him. “I was trying not to wake you.” “It’s okay,” I murmur, my voice groggy. “I need to get cleaned up; I have a midterm I have to get to. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” I give him a nod, and he slips out of my room. When I check my phone, I find a voice mail from my mom waiting for me, so I call her back. “Happy birthday,” is the first thing she says when she answers. “Thanks, Mom.” “I can’t believe this is the first birthday of yours we haven’t spent together. I miss you.” “I miss you, too.” “So, what are you doing to celebrate?” “I’m taking a midterm later today,” I tease. “Very funny.” We continue to chitchat for a few minutes before saying our goodbyes. After what happened yesterday, I’m so far from in the mood to celebrate anything, let alone my birthday. I try not to think about my last birthday or the trip to the Bahamas my mother gave to me and Kason. They are memories beyond beautiful, to reflect on them would only twist the knife deeper into my heart of loss. So, I turn back to the boats and do what I do best. I count until I nod off. When Micah returns, I’m still in bed, having not moved this whole time. Now that my secret is out, I’m relieved that I don’t have to hide the fact that I can only sleep during the day. I’m able to catch another nap before the alarm on my phone sounds. With a groan, I silence it and sit up to find Micah studying on the couch by the windows. “What’s the alarm for?” “It’s my turn now. I have a midterm at seven thirty.”

“I can take you,” he offers, even though he doesn’t have a Thursday night class. “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Treat me differently.” “I’m not. I need to go there anyway to get a couple of things from the library I forgot to pick up when I was there earlier.” He’s a liar, but I refuse to draw any more attention to this situation, so I shrug. “Fine,” is all I offer as I get out of bed and grab some clothes from the closet. Micah gathers his books. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.” After he closes the door behind him, I take a quick shower and start getting ready. After dabbing a little powder beneath my eyes, which are still swollen from all the tears I cried yesterday, I grab my backpack but stop short of opening the door when I faintly hear Trent and Micah talking from across the condo. I press my ear to the door in time to hear Trent ask, “What was that freak-out all about?” I hold on to my breath, worrying about what Micah is going to say. “She’s dealing with a lot of shit right now. Just give her time. She’ll be fine.” His response comes as a relief. “What’s going on with you two?” “What do you mean?” “Dude, you’ve spent the whole day locked away in her room. Did you spend the night with her, too?” “What the fuck, Mom? You keeping tabs on me now?” Micah says with jest in his tone. “Whatever, man,” Trent laughs. “Just admit that you’ve had a hard-on for that girl since junior year.” “Oh my god,” I mutter beneath my breath before opening up the door, because I need them to stop talking about me, like, right now. “She emerges,” Trent announces jokingly when I walk into the room. Slighted with embarrassment, I look over to Micah, who shows no sign of unease as he asks, “You ready?” “Yeah.” “You got a package in the mail today,” Trent tells me before we head out. “It’s on the bar top.” When I pick up the small box, I see my mother’s name on the return address and don’t have to open it to know what it is. I tuck it inside my bag, and the two of us head down to his truck.

After finding a parking spot on campus, I agree to meet him outside the library after my exam before we part ways. I arrive to class a few minutes early and decide to go ahead and open the gift my mother sent me. Using the tip of my pen, I jab through the tape and open the box to find a small wrapped package. I peel back the paper and lift the lid that exposes a simple, delicate bangle engraved with, “Always my daughter, now too, my friend,” on the thin metal band. I smile sadly, missing her daily presence in my life. Although we talk all the time, it isn’t the same as having her with me. After I slip the bracelet on, I read the small note: “Happy birthday, beautiful girl. You’re the best thing God ever gave me, and for that, you’ll always be my favorite.” With only a couple of minutes remaining before the test, I send her a quick text. Me: Thank you for the bracelet. It’s perfect. I love you and miss you. You’re my favorite, too.

An hour later, the exam is done, and I can only hope I did well because I need to pull my grade up in that class. I walk across campus to the library and find Micah sitting outside on a bench, waiting for me. “How’d it go?” “Good . . . I think.” On the drive back to The Grove, he looks over and notices the bangle. “Where’d you get that?” “My mom. It’s what was in the package,” I tell him, running my fingers over the engraved words. “What’s it for?” “Just a little birthday gift.” His head turns to me for a moment before focusing back on the road. “It’s your birthday?” “Yeah.” “When? Today?” I nod. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I haven’t really been in the mood to celebrate.” Pulling up to a red light, he gives me a somber look, and when it changes to green, he turns left instead of right. “Where are we going?” “Out to dinner.”

“Micah, I’m serious. I don’t want to celebrate.” He laughs under his breath with a subtle shake of his head. “Don’t be so vain. It’s late, and I’m hungry.” I give him a friendly jab to the ribs with my fingers. “I’m serious, Guppy.” “Whatever,” I respond, giving in because to argue with him would only draw more attention my way. “And I’m not vain.” He laughs. “If you say so.” He takes me out to Farinelli 1937, and we sit outside under the stars that are beginning to illuminate. “This is nice for someone who’s just hungry and wants a bite to eat,” I pester. “Relax. It’s pizza.” His defense is poor. Pizza, sure, but this is no Domino’s. He lets me make the selection for us to share, but he’s the one who orders us the tiramisu, claiming he has a sweet tooth, but I know better. Even though he never mentions my birthday, that doesn’t stop me from thanking him when we leave an hour and a half later. It’s amazing how, in just an evening, Micah’s able to shift my mood as we both ignore that just yesterday I had a monumental breakdown. When we get back to the condo, it’s almost ten o’clock, and I can already hear the music from outside in the hall. Micah opens the door, and the place is filled with people. It’s no news that Thursday nights are party nights for college goers, but never has the party been brought here—until now. “Ady!” Kate squeals from across the room. “Where have you been?” She finally reaches me and pulls me into a hug, splashing a little beer out of her red cup and onto my shoulder. I turn, and through the chaos, I see a group of guys high-fiving Micah as Kate drags me deeper into the room. My nerves begin to alarm with each person that bumps elbows with me. With everyone drinking and the loud music, my heart begins racing as all the parallels lead me back to the last party I ever went to—the one that took a cleaver to my world. “Look who decided to show up,” Trent announces, holding out a cup for me. “I’m good,” I tell him, declining the drink. “You in recovery now?” he teases and then turns to Kate. “I should tell you about the first time I got this girl drunk. It was hysterical.” Another person bumps into me, and in a flash of fear, I jump around to make sure it isn’t Liam. “Come on,” Kate says, turning me back around and shoving the cup in my hand. “You totally need to have some fun.”

Looking into the cup, all I see is the poison that stole my life from me. I’m suffocating, and I swear the walls are closing in around me. My heart starts beating too fast and too hard. It reverberates in my head, causing the room to spin in a disarray of madness. I panic. “I’ll be right back,” I stutter as I fumble through the people as fast as I can, dropping the cup and its contents onto the floor as I flee to my room. Once inside, I lock the door behind me and slowly back up as I fight to catch a decent breath. But it immediately strangles when the doorknob starts to rattle followed by a loud knock. “Go away!” I yell, terrified there’s another monster like Liam on the other side. Another knock, another explosion of fear. “Ady.” His voice is muffled by all the noise, but it cuts through enough for me to hear. “Ady, open the door.” I hesitate, even though it’s only Micah, but when he calls my name again, I move. Inching closer to the door, my fingers tremble as I disengage the lock. He opens it before I can, and I take a few steps back, startling slightly when he comes in. Micah quickly closes the door behind him. “Are you okay?” Seeing his face drenched in worry, I release a heavy sigh as I back-step over to the couch and drop down. He stays in place, and I can tell he’s nervous to come over to me. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, embarrassed that I’m drawing so much attention from him. “No,” he refutes. “I’m sorry. I had no idea Trent would be throwing a party tonight.” “It’s fine. Really.” “You’re shaking, Ady. It’s clearly not fine. I can shut it down if you need—” “Don’t do that,” I tell him and then hang my head down into my hands. “Hey.” His tone is gentle as he kneels in front of me, and when I look up, I give him a defeated shrug. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand in his and pulling me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here.” He opens the door, tucks me under his arm, and gets us quickly out of the condo. When we’re back in his truck, he drives us to a deserted beach that’s only a few minutes away. He doesn’t say anything as he parks and hops out. We converge at the front of the truck, and he takes my hand again as he leads me through the scattered palm trees and down to the water. I find a spot to sit and instead of him joining me at my side, he settles himself behind me before pulling me between his legs. Leaning my back against his chest, he drapes his arms lazily over my shoulders as I rest my head against him and stare out into the water. The waves crash onto the shore, bringing a light sea breeze with each one that comes. I watch the water ebb and flow, and it has me wondering if we’re doing the same. As comfortable as I am with Micah, there’s an unease that has developed between us. It’s moments like this where the lines of our friendship are starting to blur. We shouldn’t be

this quiet, this close, this timid. This isn’t who we are. But maybe I’m over analyzing this. Maybe he thinks this is what I need. Maybe he’s just trying to be a good friend. “Does that happen a lot?” he questions, pulling me away from my thoughts. “What do you mean?” “What happened back there.” My hands fidget nervously because I don’t know how to talk to anyone about any of this. I’ve never had to because no one has ever pushed me enough to break through these walls I’ve built. But there’s no caution when it comes to Micah, and there’s something about him that makes me feel safe. His certitude and forwardness with me feels more like a lifeline to hope than anything else, so as much as I don’t want to talk about this, I’d be foolish not to grab on to what he’s offering. “I panic when there’s a lot of people around.” I keep my eyes cast over the water as I say the words. It’s rippled in silver from the glow of the moon. “Can I ask you something?” I waver for a moment, and then nod. “You don’t have to answer, but . . . why didn’t you tell anyone?” I find a little bit of courage in the fact that I’m not looking at him, and admit, “Because I was scared.” “Of what?” “A lot of things.” “Will you help me understand?” I’m not ready to be that vulnerable, though. To admit to him all the responsibility I hold, how dirty I feel, how disgusting I am. “I don’t think I can.” He then rests his cheek against the side of my head. “But you know who he is, right?” I nod. “You can’t let him get away with this.” “He already has.” His arms circle around me more. “It’s done, and there’s nothing I could do or say that would prove what he did. I can’t even tell you what happened because I have no memory of it.” Silence spans between us as the beating of his heart patters against my back. Eventually, I close my eyes, relaxing into him slightly. “I’m worried about you.” “I don’t want you to be.” “You don’t get to control that,” he says softly. “Be honest with me. Do you feel like you’re getting better?”

My throat tightens with emotion, making my voice strain when I shake my head and answer, “I feel like everything’s getting worse.” “Have you thought about getting some kind of help? Talking to someone?” “My mom found a psychologist when I first moved here. I promised her I would make an appointment when I was ready.” “I don’t want this to come across the wrong way, but I don’t think you’re ever going to be ready. You just have to do it.” “It isn’t that easy.” He then takes my shoulders and angles me to face him before saying, “No one said it would be. But you said it yourself, it’s only getting worse.” Anguish burns behind my eyes, and I swallow thickly when he pushes. “You need to call and make an appointment.” “I don’t—” “I know you don’t want to. But I’m asking you to do it anyway. Promise me you will.” I shake my head. What he’s asking of me is too scary and too daunting, but he doesn’t relent. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’ll make the call for you if you want. I’ll go with you, even. Just promise me that you’ll get some sort of help, because I can’t watch you suffer like this.” “I’m scared.” “I know you are.” Closing my eyes, I lean my head against him, and he runs his hand up and down the length of my back, urging again, “Tell me you’ll go.” As much as I want to hide from all this, to make it go away and disappear, I know I’ll never win. I’ve been hiding for months and nothing is better, nothing is easier. And he’s right . . . I don’t want to suffer anymore. So, with the strength of his hands on me, I take a deep breath. “Okay . . . I promise.”



“Why didn’t you pack this?” Kate asks, and when I peek out of my bathroom, I see her standing by my dresser, holding up my white scallop-trim bikini. “Because I already packed four others.” “This one is hot, though,” she says, and I laugh when she presses the top over her boobs. “You’re more than welcome to borrow it.” “Please,” she says, dropping it away from her chest. “I’d pop out of this thing. You’re way too petite to be lending me any of your clothes.” She then walks over to my suitcase and tosses the bikini in. It’s the first day of spring break, and the four of us decided it would be fun to spend it down in Key West. It was a little last minute, but we were able to snag a two-bedroom suite. “Kate,” Trent hollers. “Make yourself useful and help me out.” She rolls her eyes, and I follow her into the living room. “Micah’s on the phone, and I’m ready to go. Will you guys help me get the bags down to the garage?” After gathering all the suitcases and beach bags, we haul everything into the elevator and down to Trent’s SUV. Once it’s all loaded, I look at Kate, who’s getting into the back seat. “Crap.” “What?” she questions, buckling her seatbelt. “I forgot to bring my bag down.” “Tell Micah to hurry his ass up while you’re up there,” Trent says. I walk back into the condo and head straight to my room. As I’m pulling up the handle

on my suitcase, I spot a gold gift bag sitting on top of my bed that wasn’t there when I left. There’s no card, only an embossed sticker with the name of a boutique. Slowly, I pull out the few sheets of white tissue paper, revealing a large box beneath. When I open the lid, I take out an exquisite conch shell. It’s heavy, and I admire the polished pink center that curves around the inside. I notice the bottom of the shell has a base, and when I flip it over, I see a tiny switch. Pushing it to the side, the whole shell glows in a soft light—a bedside nightlight. I can’t believe he did this. Footfalls catch my attention, and when I turn around, Micah is standing behind me. “I thought you could use it in the hotel room this week,” he says, knowing I won’t be able to have the lights on since I’m sharing a room with Kate. His thoughtfulness is beyond a petty thank you, so I walk straight into his arms and give him a hug. “It’s beautiful.” He could’ve gotten me a cheap plastic plugin, but he didn’t. This took effort and thought, and I’m so lucky to have someone in my life who cares so much. “We should get going,” he says, and I quickly slip the light back into the box before packing it into my suitcase. After locking up, we head down, and a few minutes later, we are on the road. When Trent suggested this trip, I was excited to jump on board. It’s been an intense few weeks for me. The day after I promised Micah I would get help, I pulled out the business card my mother had given me months ago and made the call. I didn’t have much time to prepare myself because he had an open session the following day. Leaving the condo was terrifying. I couldn’t do it on my own, and I didn’t have to. Micah saw how nervous I was and offered to drive me. He sat out in his truck and waited while I was at my appointment. It was strange meeting Dr. Garrison for the first time, but he eased in slowly, which helped relax me. We started off by talking about me and my family and how it was growing up. It was all pretty basic until we got to the reason why I was there. He thought it would be best to meet twice a week for a while, so that’s what I’ve been doing for nearly a month. Sessions are hard—harder than I imaged they would be. We talk about that night, about Kason, about all my feelings. It’s a lot to deal with so openly, and I find myself utterly drained when the hour is over. I learned not to plan anything on the days I see Dr. Garrison because not only am I exhausted but also I’m way too vulnerable. It’s like peeling off a scab and exposing a wound that’s way too raw. It takes me a good day to process each session, but I’m starting to feel the effects. He’s been teaching me different coping skills to help manage my anxiety, and he also has me do a daily exercise in which I say aloud what happened to me. He believes that the more I say it and acknowledge it, the less power it will have over me. That with time, I’ll become stronger than that night. And he’s right. It’s already becoming easier. I stand in my bathroom every day, look at my reflection, and tell myself what happened that night—at least the parts I do know. “Liam raped me.” It was only last week that I was finally able to say it without falling

to my knees and crying. I stood there, said the words, and when my body held strong, I actually smiled. I couldn’t believe it. I literally smiled, and for a moment, I felt powerful. Not to say that everything is better, because it isn’t. I still struggle with the dark, and there hasn’t been a single night that Micah hasn’t slipped into my room and slept next to me. He’s there with me as I lay restless. Sometimes, I’m able to fall asleep, and the times when I can’t, he holds me, offering me unyielding comfort the best way he knows how. I’m not sure how I would do any of this without him. Trent teases us relentlessly, but I just laugh it off. If he only knew how innocent our nights were and the reason behind Micah staying in my room, he would understand. But for now, Micah and I just make light of it. We’re not the only ones being taunted. Right now, Kate is getting a dose of it herself when Trent overhears her telling me about the guy that took her out the other night. “You mean, Caleb? That dude’s a shubie.” “No he isn’t,” Kate defends, but I’ve seen the guy a few times when I’ve gone to watch Micah surf, and I silently agree with Trent. The guy tries too hard to look the part. Trent busts out laughing. “He’s a paddlepuss, Kate.” “You’re such an ass, you know that?” “Just calling it like I see it.” “So, because he isn’t as good as you or Micah, that makes him a poser.” “You said it!” “Whoa,” Micah says, piping in. “Trent’s nowhere near as good as I am, so don’t clump us together.” “You are so arrogant,” I accuse, to which he turns his head and shoots me a wink. I laugh at his playfulness as Kate and Trent continue to pester each other. Truth is, Micah is extremely talented on the board, and even though he gets a lot of attention for his skimming, he’s been climbing the ranks with his surfing. It was right after my birthday when he told me about his first sponsorship. It’s only a local surf shop, but they also publish a popular magazine called Ride, which is all about skateboarding, surfing, and skimming. With Micah’s look, they went ahead and booked him for a photo shoot to promote an up-and-coming street wear clothing line that’s about to launch in their store. He kind of scoffed at first, but all athletes do their fair share of modeling gigs. After an hour and a half in the car, we stop in Islamorada for lunch before getting back on the road. Two hours later, we arrive in Key West. The place is busy with spring breakers from all over, and I’m excited to be out of Miami for a while. I need the escape from my everyday reality, and I’m looking forward to spending some girl time with Kate as well. When we pull up to the hotel, I step out of the SUV, and I’m reminded of last year’s spring break. It was the four of us in the Bahamas: Kason, Trent, Micah, and me. Now that Kason is no longer in the picture, the three of us have welcomed Kate into our small group. It’s weird how much life has changed. Even in the past six month since Kason and I

split, everything is different. I can actually think about Kason without it hurting too badly. Funny how time does that—soothes scars and mends pain. I’ll always cherish falling in love with him and the time we had together, but one thing life has taught me under its harsh hand is that this world is ever changing, and unless you move with the tides, you’ll only drown in the memories left behind. That’s one thing therapy has forced me to face, that memories are just that—memories. Once tangible moments that are no longer. My only wish is that Kason is moving on as well, cherishing the memories but letting go of the loss. “Come on, Guppy.” We lug our bags inside the lobby, and after we check in and get our room keys, we head out to our suite. The place is amazing. Everything is bright with warm touches of earth tones throughout the living room, dining room, kitchen, and the two bedrooms, all of which look out over the sparkling pool and white sandy beach. With no marina to count boats, I feel a world away from Miami, and I can’t help the huge smile that comes across my face. “Hurry and change so we can get down to the pool.” I trail behind Kate to our room, closing the door behind us. “This place is amazing,” I boast as I toss my suitcase onto the bed and start unpacking. We’re here for seven days, and I refuse to spend this trip living out of a bag, unlike Kate, who leaves everything in her suitcase but the bikini she just pulled out. I take the gift Micah gave me out of its box and set it on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed that Kate and are sharing. “What’s that?” “Just a little light,” I tell her. “Micah bought it for me, and it was too pretty not to bring.” She walks over and picks it up, handling it gently before setting it back down. “That’s a nice gift.” Her tone is suggestive, but I dismiss her with a roll of my eyes. We spend the better part of the day lying out and relaxing. I listen to Kate gush about Caleb, happy that Trent is no longer on her radar. When we are good and relaxed with a kiss of pink on our skin, Kate and I ditch the boys and take the trolley over to Duval Street. We wander in and out of boutiques, gift shops, and art galleries. I buy a bottle of perfume and a small canvas painting by a local artist, and Kate indulges in a pair of strappy sandals and a new purse. She may be a surfer, but when she isn’t in the water, she’s a total girly-girl. As we pass a few outdoor bars, she points out cute guys, and I can’t help but laugh. “You need a boyfriend to calm you down,” I tease. “Tell me about it. Single life blows. Caleb has me going crazy, though,” she pouts. “Seriously, Ady, why hasn’t he called me yet?” “Your date was just last night.” I pull out my phone and check the time. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“I just want to get this part over with.” “Don’t rush it. Falling is the fun part.” “Easy for you to say, Miss I Don’t Have Any Interest In Guys At All.” I laugh. “God, you make it sound like I’ve taken some sort of vow of celibacy or something.” Her hand flies out in front of her, and she stops in her tracks, mocking me with a shocked expression, saying, “Wait! You haven’t?” “You’re crazy,” I joke as I nudge her with my arm. We continue to stroll in and out of stores, purchasing things here and there before deciding to meet the guys at Sloppy Joe’s Bar for dinner. After eating a platter of calamari and sharing a slice of key lime pie with Kate, we walk outside where it’s already dark. “I can’t believe I missed it,” I sulk as we stroll down the street. “Missed what?” “The sunset,” I tell Micah as Trent and Kate walk a few feet ahead of us. He gives me an inquisitive look, and I explain, “I sort of fell in love with watching them when I moved to Tampa. But in Miami, the sun doesn’t set into the water.” “Then we won’t miss another one while we’re here,” he tells me. “I’ll take you to Mallory Square tomorrow night to watch it.”



The four of us sit at the back of the boat as we head out to our diving spot. I take a look around at the other people who’re taking selfies with excitement in their smiles, while I’m over here, picking off chips of my nail polish. I wasn’t exactly thrilled when they told me what the plans were today, but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until we finished our scuba training class and hopped on this boat that my anxiety became transparent. Also, it didn’t help when our instructor told our group that the spot we are going to is home to a number of nurse sharks. The news thrilled everyone except me. Again, I feigned calmness, but how can I be calm when I’m wearing a belt filled with weights that will sink me down to the bottom of the ocean? When the boat slows to a stop and we anchor down, Kate holds her phone out in front of the four of us and captures the moment. “Gear on everyone,” our instructor announces. “Let’s do this!” Everyone slips their fins and masks on, and one by one, we step down onto the platform. “When you jump into the water, go ahead and deflate your buoyancy compensator and drop straight down. Remember the hand signs I taught you. Wait on your knees, and when I join you, we’ll start our swim, okay?” Everyone gives their nods of understanding. I watch each person as they jump off the back of the boat, and when it’s finally Micah’s turn and he gets the approval to jump, he asks, “You nervous, Guppy?” “A little.” “I’ll wait for you. We can go down together.” I give him a nod before he steps off the platform, bobbing in the water as he waits for the instructor to secure the tank onto my back. “You ready?”

“Are there really sharks down there?” I question hesitantly. He chuckles, saying, “You’re going to love it.” “Come on, Ady!” Micah hollers, and I jump in. Once he grabs ahold of my hand, we secure our regulators in our mouths, deflate our compensators, and sink down to meet everyone else on the white-sand bottom. Kate grabs my other hand as Trent and Micah shoot shaka signs at each other in excitement. Our instructor takes the lead, and we are off to explore the coral and fish. I keep my hand secured in Micah’s as we glide through the water, taking in all the life beneath the surface. Brilliant blue water, colorful fish, incredible coral. Being as deep as we are, intruding upon this underwater habitat, I feel at peace. There’s no talking, no sounds aside from my regulator. It’s otherworldly—almost dreamlike. Trent and Kate swim ahead of us, moving closer to a couple of other people, and when he turns to wave us over, Micah and I kick toward them. He points to our left, and my eyes widen in disbelief. A nurse shark, about five feet long, is resting under a coral ledge. I thought I’d be terrified, but beneath all this equipment, there’s a disconnect that gives me a sense of bravery I’m not privy to on land. I tug on Micah’s hand, letting him know I want a closer look, only to find another shark a few feet away. Unable to talk, Kate gives me an eager thumbs up from in front of me. It’s that moment when I realize I’m no longer scared. Letting go of Micah’s hand, I swim alone, gliding over to Trent, who holds out his hand to give me a high five in passing. The four of us continue our exploration, and when I see a large school of tiny, bright yellow fish, Kate and I flutter our fins and swim through the center of them, sending the little fish scattering about as the sun’s rays pierce down in the water. Silently, I laugh, feeling so young and free, like a giddy child discovering a new magical realm. All too soon, though, we get the signal to head back to the boat. Inflating our buoyancy compensators, we kick up and break through the water’s surface. “Dude, those sharks were fucking epic,” Trent exclaims once we’re on the boat and heading back to land. Kate and I giggle like young girls, oh my gosh-ing about all the colorful things we saw. It takes us a while to come down from this high of sharing a new adventure together, and when the boat docks, it’s already close to five o’clock. We head back to the hotel to shower and clean up. I slip on a long flowy sundress before tying my beach-kissed wavy hair into a ponytail. After only being here a few days, it’s already a brighter blonde from all the sun I’ve been getting. We all head out to dinner at Duece’s Off the Hook, a local joint Trent’s been to before. From the outside, it looks like a hole-in-the-wall beach hut, but inside is a hidden gem of bistro-style seafood. Kate and I share the fresh grouper dinner. With the long day of scuba training and our dive, it doesn’t take long for yawns to emerge after we finish eating. “I’m wiped,” Trent drones while Kate sits back in her chair, agreeing. “You want to call it a night?” Micah asks, and we all nod.

The sun is just about to dip into the water when we get back to the suite. As everyone flops down in the living room, I decide to slip out. “Where are you going?” I look at Kate from over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a little bit. I’m going to go watch the sunset.” I head down to the white powder sand and take a seat. A sweet breeze brushes against my face as I soak in the remaining heat of the day. Tomorrow we head home, and I can’t believe how fast this week has flown by. It’s been nothing but relaxing, spending our days poolside, beachside, shopping, and eating. We took jet skis out several times, and Micah made good on his promise and has taken me to Mallory Square almost every night. “It’s almost gone.” I look to my side to find him standing next to me. “It went fast tonight,” I note as I cast my eyes back over the water, which bleeds in a fiery blanket of melting oranges and pinks. He sits next to me, his elbows resting on his bent knees as my legs lay stretched out in front me, ankles crossed and hands propped behind me. “I never appreciated this until now.” “Appreciated what?” He looks at me, answering, “The sunsets. I’ve lived in Florida my whole life and never gave them the attention they deserved until you sat me down to watch them this week.” “It’s funny how we take so many things for granted, only to realize how much we’ve missed the moment we finally stop to notice them.” He stills when I say this, and something about the way his eyes are peering into mine sets me teetering nervously. There’s an uneven thumping in my chest, and when he leans over and closes the gap between us, I freeze. His lips touch mine, and the moment I feel how soft they are, hesitant and insistent all at the same time, that thumping hits harder, and I pull away. “Ady—” “Don’t.” I sit up, folding my legs in front of me, touching my fingers to my mouth. “What’s wrong?” It takes me a second to sort through the thoughts scrambling my mind right now. This is Micah. This is my best friend. What is he doing and what is this intensity on the other side of my ribs? “I can’t . . .” I drop my hand away from my lips and look at the confusion in his eyes. “I can’t do this.” “Why not?” “Because I can’t even think about doing this—with anyone,” I tell him. “I still haven’t fully come to terms with losing Kason.” His eyes fall away from me the moment I say his name, and his jaw clenches. “That

was six months ago.” “It was, but I didn’t break up with him because I wanted to or because I stopped loving him. I did it because I had no other choice.” “What does that even mean?” “It’s complicated.” “Then uncomplicate it for me, because what am I supposed to think when, for weeks, you’ve been letting me into your bed every night?” His words come sharply, but I can hear the pain in them from beneath the blade. I hadn’t realized I’d been leading him on. “I’m sorry. I thought you coming to my room was innocent, I just . . . I’ve been hurting for so long, and when you stay the night with me, somehow I don’t hurt so badly. I’m sorry if I led you to feel something more.” “You think this is new?” He shifts back to me, and I take a hard swallow. “This isn’t something that has just appeared out of nowhere, Ady.” He takes a brief pause before confessing, “I fell for you the moment I met you.” My mouth parts in shock at his admission. “I remember that day clearly. I invited you out to the beach, and you gave me some lame ass excuse about needing to unpack, but then you showed up. I thought I had a chance.” “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” “Because as soon as I saw how you looked at Kason, I knew it would never happen. It was nothing like the way you looked at me. So, I stood by and watched you fall for my best friend while I was falling for you.” “I . . .” I’m stunned nearly speechless, having never had a clue this is how he felt toward me. “I didn’t know.” “Would it have made a difference?” His question catches me off guard because the truth would only hurt him. Because it was always Kason, and nothing, not even Micah’s feelings for me would have kept me from wanting to give my heart over to him. I loved Kason beyond anything. I still love him, even though I feel the love shifting in some unexplainable way as time goes on. “Forget it,” he says. “I don’t want to know the answer.” He then stands, and without a second look, he walks away, leaving me to process what he just told me. I owe Micah so much, and my feelings for him are strong, but they’re also so very unclear. There was no question when it came to Kason. He was soul-consuming in every way possible. He was my everything, and I thought we held forever in the palm of our hands. He was my first love, my first taste of everything. He was the one who opened my eyes to a whole new world and gave me so much to look forward to. God his love was so beautiful and so patient. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times he still found a way to hold my hand in my sleep.

And what kills me the most is that I had to walk away from the best thing I ever knew. I had to give him up in order to protect him from suffering through any more pain. I wish that he could’ve been stronger, less damaged, more capable. In a way, more like Micah because he’s the one who is making it possible for me get better. I hate to compare the two —it isn’t fair, but it is what it is. I will never deny the love that sparked within my heart for Kason, but flames don’t die so easily when they burned as fiercely as they did between us. But it isn’t just Kason, it’s everything else I’ve been dealing with. Processing the rape, coping with my anxiety and the after effects, learning how to move forward. It’s a lot to deal with. I know that one day I’ll have to open my heart up to someone else, but it isn’t something I’m ready to do right now. I remain in my thoughts as the sky continues to darken before finally standing. There’s so much unease bundled inside me when I walk into the suite. My stomach knots when I see Micah and Trent in the living room. He glances my way but then turns back to the television. I want to speak, to say something to take away whatever feelings plague him, but I have nothing. So, I walk back to my room and find Kate already passed out. I change into a pair of pajamas and slip into bed, careful not to wake her. Reaching over, I turn on the light Micah bought me. I stare into its soft glow, and my heart grows heavy. With my fingertip, I glide over the smooth polished inside, admiring the ivory and how it seamlessly blends into a soft pink, deepening in color the closer to the core it gets. After a while, the television turns off along with all the lights. I lie awake, wondering if Micah is doing the same. Wondering exactly what it is he’s thinking. Wondering if I’ve ruined our friendship somehow. I toss and turn, finding myself staring at the shell time and time again, reminding me how thoughtful and supportive he’s been throughout everything. I can’t lose him after I’ve already lost so much, but I also know that I can’t give him what he wants, either. This night is more restless than most, and when a closing door catches my attention, I sit up. Slipping out of bed, I pad across the suite and peek into the boys’ room to find Trent sound asleep and Micah’s bed empty. Feeling like I’m the one at fault here, I grab a key card and go to look for him, eventually finding him down by the pool. I approach cautiously as he reclines back in one of the loungers, wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts. His long hair nearly glows silver under the moon, and the light from the pool casts him in wavy veins of brightness. My movement catches his attention. “What are you doing out here?” I ask timidly when I sit on the edge of the lounge chair that’s next to him. “Couldn’t sleep.” There has never been as much tension between us as there is right now. This isn’t us. It never has been, and I hate it. He releases a deep breath and breaks the silence when he says, “Do you know how hard it was for me to see how badly he hurt you when he cheated on you?”

I shake my head. Micah will never understand the truth to Kason and what led him to do that to me. “And then, just like that, you ran back to him.” He finally looks at me with so much sadness in his eyes. “I would never do what he did to you.” My head drops. “You don’t understand.” “You’re right. I don’t.” “Micah, please. I don’t want this to come between us.” He sits up and turns toward me so our knees are touching. “This tension . . . it’s always been there between us. You just didn’t know it until now.” His hands then come to my knees, and he plants a still kiss on my forehead before walking away from me for the second time tonight.



“Trent just texted,” Kate says. “He’s already down at the spot.” “I can’t figure you two out.” She rolls her eyes while combating the traffic of South Beach. “Me, neither. One minute he’s cold and the next . . . mildly warm.” We laugh because we’ve both been seeing this back and forth with Trent. Not that he’s flirty or being overly obvious, but there are definite hints that he sees something intriguing in Kate. The two of them talk and text, which is starting to cause a little rift between her and Caleb. When we returned from Key West, she and Caleb made it official and have been seeing each other exclusively ever since—three weeks to be exact. With summer right around the corner, the beach is more packed than usual, but I still decided to tag along with Kate and relax in the sun while she catches some waves. Ever since spring break, things have been tense, not only at the condo but also with my therapy. I still struggle with blaming myself, wondering how much I provoked the situation with Liam. I wish I had some sort of memory, some sort of something to help me make sense of that night. I’ve been seeing Dr. Garrison for almost two months, and it was just this past week that he mentioned how well I have been doing and decided to drop our sessions down to just once a week. In a way, the reduction was like an accomplishment. A small part of me even felt like celebrating, as if I’d crossed a milestone in my healing. But then I came home, the sun set, and I counted boats with the comfort of light from the shell. For the most part, sleeping is getting easier, even though I still don’t like the dark. My nights of restlessness are becoming scarcer, but at least once a week, my mind becomes overloaded with questions and fears. Those are the nights I miss Micah. He hasn’t returned to my room since we came back from our trip.

“Earth to Ady.” Kate’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and when I look up, we’re already parked. I step out of the car, grab my beach bag, and start applying sunblock while Kate retrieves her surfboard that’s half hanging out the rolled down window of the hatch back. My feet sink into the sand as we make our way down to the water. When I find a clear spot, I drop my bag and spread out my large towel before lying on my stomach. I get myself comfortable and situated, looking out over the water with my arms folded beneath my chin. Kate jogs into the water and starts paddling out to Trent. Resting my cheek down, I spot Micah with his blond hair reflecting in the bright sun as he stands down a ways at the shore. I hadn’t known he’d be here, and suddenly, I feel like maybe I should leave. Hidden behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I watch as he takes his skimboard, runs along the edge of the water, and jumps on, flipping the board beneath his feet and then jumping a decent wave. My tummy trills as I spy, but at the same time, sinks into itself. The feeling pangs in my gut, forcing me to turn my head the other way. As the sun melts into my skin, the heat soothes me, and after a while, I doze off, but it doesn’t last long when Kate flops down next to me. Squinting against the sun, I peer up at her. “You’re going to get raccoon eyes wearing those sunglasses out here.” I sit up and look down the stretch of sand to find Micah. “He left.” Pushing my sunglasses back on my head, I look at Kate. “Who?” “Micah,” she says. “So, are you ever going to tell me what happened in Key West?” “Nothing happened,” I tell her for the hundredth time. She shakes her head. “Why do you do that?” “Do what?” She takes a drink from her water bottle before twisting the cap back on and turning to face me. “You two have been weird since that trip. We all see it. Whenever you’re in the same room, you barely look at each other.” Of course, she’s right. Not that I want to keep my distance from him, but it’s clear that Micah’s hurt and is keeping his distance from me. And in return, I try to stay out of his way because I feel horrible about the whole situation. It isn’t as if we don’t still talk and hang out, but when we do, it’s awkward. We both tiptoe around each other, and I miss him and the way he used to be with me. Trent then makes his appearance as he comes out of the water. He drops his board onto the sand and stands over me. “Scoot,” he says with a smirk, and when I do, he sits next to me on my towel. “Even Trent notices.” “Trent notices what?” he questions Kate in third person as I sit between the two of

them. “That something’s up with her and Micah.” “Nothing is up.” Trent laughs. “Dude,” he nearly exclaims. “The second that boy saw you were here, he packed his shit up and left.” His words twist in my chest, and when I slouch over, I turn my head to him, asking hesitantly, “Do you know?” He looks into my eyes and reads exactly what it is I’m trying to say. Trent is Micah’s oldest friend, so if anyone would know, it would be him. When he nods, I pull my knees to my chest and drop my head. “Give the boy what he wants and put him out of his misery.” His words break a giggle from between my lips, and I poke him in the ribs. He laughs, shrugging. “The two of you are way too serious about this shit.” “Relationships are serious,” Kate shoots at Trent. “We’re not in a relationship,” I defend. “And this is why I don’t get wrapped up in this junk with girls. You all are way too intense.” “So, you mean to tell me that you haven’t come across one girl that would be worth the intensity?” He glances quickly over to Kate before returning to me. “Nope.” He then stands, grabs his board, and heads back into the water. “He’s a dick,” she mumbles beneath her breath, but there was something questionable in that look of his. “Come on,” she then says on a softer tone. “What are you not telling me?” Sighing, I finally admit, “He kissed me.” Her eyes widen, and a hint of a smile grows on her face. “And that’s bad because?” “He’s my best friend.” “And?” she questions, drawing out the word. “And . . . it’s just complicated.” “Well, do you like him?” “Like I said, he’s my best friend.” “You know what I mean.” I do, but it’s so much more than whether or not I like him. I’m trying so hard to deal with so many deep-seated issues in my life that I don’t think I have the capacity to deal with anything other than taking care of myself. It’s so hard to see beyond the walls around me that are keeping me safe enough so that I can move forward.

“Your silence is telling me you do,” she says. “Can we not talk about this?” “All I’m saying is that you have a hell of a guy, who’s clearly interested in you. It’s beyond me why he’s still single.” Her words echo in my head. The whole time I’ve known Micah, he never once had a girlfriend. And it isn’t because he can’t get one. In high school, girls would flock to the shore to watch him skim. I heard how they talked about him. They talked about Kason the same way. The two of them, even Trent, had the pick of the litter. Even now in Miami, with Micah’s photo shoots popping up in local magazines and online, he could easily have a girl on each arm. Sure, he had a few hookups here and there in high school, but he wasn’t anything like Trent and nothing ever got serious. But since I moved here, not once have I seen him with a girl or even heard him talk about one. These thoughts latch on to me, sending emotions swirling from within—emotions I’m not sure I can make sense of but they ache nonetheless. “What’s the hang-up?” My ex-boyfriend, the attack, my insecurities, my fear, my trust, my confusion, I answer silently. And that’s only the beginning of my issues. For the rest of the day, I’m unable to find a moment that isn’t occupied with some sort of tension. It follows me like a shadow even when shadows go to sleep with the rest of the world. Not me, though. I remain awake, missing the company of the guy across the hall. It’s been three weeks since he has come into my room. Three weeks of wishing there weren’t this wedge driven between us. Three weeks of selfishly wanting my friend, but unselfishly giving him his space. I’m caught in a web of not knowing what to do as my heart tangles itself deeper and deeper into the what-ifs. I know I’m not ready to unleash my heart after it broke so badly. I’m just now starting to piece it back together, and it isn’t an easy feat. I work hard every day to take steps in the right direction to restore all that I lost: hope, faith, self-esteem, safety, love, self-worth. The list is endless. What Liam did to me was more than just physical. He didn’t just rape my body—he raped my soul. Maybe it’s like what Micah once said to me about going to therapy. That I’ll never be ready to face this head on, but that I need to do it anyway. I took his advice. I clutched it tightly and never let go, and here I am. Two months of therapy, of coming face to face with everything I’m terrified of, has made me a little stronger. A little braver. A little healthier. I swallow down a piece of that bravery and slip out of bed. It’s after midnight, and when I crack my door, I see that his is closed. With my heart in my throat, I have no idea what I’m doing when I turn the knob, step inside, and shut the door behind me. He’s awake, and as we stare at each other through the darkness of the room, he slowly sits up and leans back against the headboard. I’m scared to move any farther, but what if moving is exactly what I should do? What

if I take this step and force my heart to start beating again? Maybe it will take away the remnants of pain that remain with me. There’s no question that this feels too soon, too sudden, too brash, but I need him. I’ve always needed Micah. I needed him when Kason cheated on me. I needed him after the attack. I needed him when my whole world came tumbling down on top of me. But I also needed him for everything in between—because it’s him. He’s always been a place of solace and strength. An unwavering friend who makes everything better. What if he’s more than just a friend? “What are you doing in here?” I shrug and admit, “I don’t really know.” He doesn’t move. And why should he when he’s the only one who’s done so? Timidly, I take a step forward and wonder if it’s a step toward healing, moving on—learning to live again. My knees, wobbly and nervous, lead me over to his bed, and when he shifts over, I take a seat. “I miss you,” I finally confess, my voice only a whisper. He doesn’t respond, forcing me to fill the silence between us. “I don’t know how to do this.” My voice cracks because I’m so scared of this choice I’m making. “I don’t even know if I should or even if I can.” His hand slides over the top of mine, and he takes it in his. “What do you feel?” “Scared.” “That makes two of us.” “What do you have to be scared of?” He brings his other hand to my cheek and slowly slides it down to my neck. “Of ruining this,” he says. “Of losing you as a friend if this doesn’t work out.” He then tugs me toward him, wraps his arms around me, and slips us down into the bed. He settles me beneath him before shifting to his side, and with my head on his pillows, I stare up into his eyes that say so much with so little. “A part of me feels like I’m doing something wrong.” His brows furrow. “Why?” “Because of him.” I don’t dare say his name, but I don’t have to. Truth is, there are still pieces of my heart that are attached to Kason. “Tell me what to do here because I need to know where your heart is.” “It’s right here.” I say the words because I want to believe them. To believe that, even though I once gave it to Kason, there’s still a possibility that I can give it to another. But the only other I can see myself handing it over to is the one who has me tucked beneath him. The one who’s heart is thumping against my chest. The one who’s making it hard to

breathe steadily. The one who I trusted enough to save me. His body is so warm on top of mine, but no amount of heat could possibly kill the thousands of butterflies chopping their wings inside my stomach. His hair falls over his forehead, and when I reach up to push it away, I find myself pulling instead. I hold on to him like I’m holding on to a savior, and as I bring him toward me, the words, “I love you,” fall from his lips right before they touch me in a kiss that’s so soft, so cautious, so tender that I swear it heals.



I pick up the framed picture and pause on the photo. It’s one of the happiest moments of my life, captured to preserve the memory forever. It was taken on Christmas morning, a little over five months ago. I’m wearing snowflake pajama shorts and a white T-shirt with my long hair pulled up in a messy bun. Even without any makeup on, there’s so much color in my face, which is brightened in pure surprise and elation. Love has me wrapped in his arms as we stand amongst the piles of gift wrap at our bare feet. Our smiles beam as Micah holds my left hand out to show off the diamond ring he presented me with along with the most important question anyone has ever asked me. The answer came easily, though. “I still can’t believe you’re actually getting married!” Kate exclaims. It’s at her words when I realize the obnoxious smile on my face. Grabbing another sheet of packing paper, I wrap the precious memory and add it to the box with all the other frames. “And I can’t believe you’re moving.” I look up at the girl I met almost four years ago when I first moved here to Miami. “You’ll have too much fun at your new PR job to even know I’m gone.” “Doubtful.” She continues to help me pack as I tape the box closed and move it aside, my ring spraying the room in rainbow facets as the sun catches it at just the right angle. I can’t believe I’ll soon be Micah’s wife. I can still remember how scared I was the night everything shifted for us. The night I crept into his room and he kissed me for the first time—our first real kiss. It wasn’t a seamless transition for us. After that night, it took us almost three months to kiss again. I kept wavering back and forth, unsure of my feelings, but most of all, nervous to open my heart again. One thing I can say about Micah is he’s the most patient man alive. Never rushing me, yet always pushing me.

And that’s where it happened—somewhere between the breaking and the healing, I fell in love. It was a slow bloom, forever secured within the strength of our friendship. It took time for my heart to fall into his, and when he finally had it, I knew it was safe. And now here I am, twenty-two years old, engaged, and graduated with a degree in advertising. Freshman year almost seems like forever ago. Through therapy, I learned how to better cope with the aftermath of the rape and even the breakup with Kason. We also spent a good chunk of time focusing on my abandonment issues that stemmed from my father dismissing me from his life. It’s been a long road, and it hasn’t been an easy one, but today I stand much stronger. Somehow, I was able to pull myself out of the hell I was trapped in. I’m no longer terrified of the dark. I’m no longer thrown into a panic around crowds. There are so many things I have accomplished, but that isn’t to say that I’m free from the destruction—I’m not. I still hold myself responsible for what happened to me. No matter how many times I’m told it isn’t my fault, that’s something I’ll never know for sure because I’ll never get my memory back to know the truth. Aside from the blame I carry, I have moments when, out of nowhere, that night and even that morning, sneak to the forefront of my mind. It isn’t often, but it still needles on wounds, reminding me that the scars still remain. Micah has been there every step of the way, giving me space when I need it and knowing when I don’t. Living together these past few years, he’s learned to read me well, but soon this condo won’t be our home any more. “I just got off the phone with Zach,” Micah says when he walks out of his room. “Tickets are all booked.” “When do we leave?” “One week from today. He also gave me the name of the realtor he used when he bought his place, so one of us needs to make that call.” Zach is Micah’s agent. After taking the win at the Florida Surfing Championship during our junior year, Elite Surfing Management contacted him, and it wasn’t long after when Micah signed with them. They’ve been guiding his career into the professional surfing world ever since. He was already well known here in Miami, but now he’s booking spots all over the country for different events and competitions. As of a year ago, he’s been sponsored by one of the world’s largest surf apparel companies. When his travel began to interfere with his classes, he shifted most of his schedule over to online courses. His parents weren’t too thrilled when he told them that a career in surfing was what he planned to pursue. Since they pay for the condo and pretty much everything else, they made a deal that he couldn’t give up on getting a degree. As hard as it’s been on him, he managed to keep up with his studies and graduated on time. Now we’re packing up our life in Miami to relocate to San Diego. “Have you decided what you’re going to do for work?” Kate asks. Micah comes up from behind me and takes a nip at my neck as he holds me in his arms. “She’s going to be my wife,” he tells her, adding laughter when he says, “She’ll be busy cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry.”

“You wish.” I jab him in the ribs, and he lets go of me. I shake my head as he walks off and grabs a beer from the fridge before I turn my attention back to Kate. “Honestly, I decided not to even worry about what I’m going to do for a job until we get out there and get settled.” “How is your mom doing with all this change?” “She cried a little when Micah told her we were moving, but she’s excited for us.” Suddenly, the door swings open and Trent steps in with his arms spread wide open. The three of us stare as he boasts a grand smile, wearing a suit and tie. “Dude,” Micah says. “Why the fuck are you dressed like that?” “Interview day, young pup.” He saunters into the room, adjusting his tie that doesn’t need adjusting. “My people, you are now looking at the future of Tate and Nixon Investments.” “The future what?” Kate mocks. Dramatically, he falls back into one of the chairs and crosses his leg over his knee. “The future everything, my unemployed friend.” “I got a job last week.” “Peasant work,” he brushes off, and I can’t help laughing at him and his phony arrogance. “So, what’s your job title?” I ask. “I’ll be a financial analyst.” “Entry level?” “A man can be defined by his capacity to be humble, so yes, I accepted an entry level position.” “Congrats,” Micah says as he raises his beer in salute. “You’re one step above an unpaid intern.” “Eat dick.” “No thanks.” Oddly enough, Trent has a knack for numbers, and he decided to use that to his advantage when he declared his major in business finance. Trent hasn’t changed much since high school. He’s still as free-spirited as ever, and I can’t even begin to picture him in a professional setting. “God, this place is depressing,” he says as he looks around. “We only packed a few boxes.” “Still.” We then spend the rest of the day just hanging out, knowing our time together is ticking down. When evening falls, we order in pizza and find a movie to watch. It’s nearing midnight when Micah and I call it a night and head to bed, leaving Trent and Kate

out in the living room. Too tired to change into pajamas, I slip off my shorts and pull my bra out from under my shirt before crawling into bed with Micah. Even though my room is across the hall, and I still spend some nights alone in my bed, it’s in his that I often find myself. “Come closer,” he whispers, pulling my leg across his lap as I nestle my head on his shoulder. “What are your thoughts on fall?” He shifts to his side, keeping my leg pulled over him. “For the wedding?” Micah grazes my ear with his teeth, and I release a breathy giggle and nod. “Is that enough time? Don’t you girls need like a year or some shit like that?” A heavy sigh abandons my lungs when he pushes against me and I feel him hard between my legs. “I don’t want anything big or extravagant—just you.” “You have me, babe.” My hands lose themselves in his long hair. “Do I?” He then rolls on top of me, trapping me beneath him, and grinds into me, teasing, “For someone who claims they don’t want anything big or extravagant, you chose the wrong man.” I bust out laughing, and he swallows it when he covers my mouth with his. Grabbing the band to his shorts, I shove them down, needing to be closer than what we are. He’s just as needy when he tugs my panties to the side and makes love to me. Sex with Micah was something I had to adjust to. When we first started sleeping together, I was coming onto him several times a day—I didn’t know anything different, and everything I had become conditioned to do in my previous relationship was seeping into my current one. Micah would often turn me down, and it took me a while to find contentment in the fact that he only needed sex a few times a week rather than a few times a day. Lazily, we make love until we’re spent, sated, and then we both drift to sleep. Ringing pulls me from a sweet dream and has me blindly fumbling around for my phone. “Dude, it’s fucking early,” Micah groans as he begins to stir. When my hand lands on my cell, I blink my eyes open to see who’s calling. “It’s my mom,” I tell him before answering. “Did I wake you?” “Pretty much,” I grumble. “This better be important.” “It is.” As sleepy as I am, there’s no questioning the seriousness in her tone. “Is everything okay?” I ask as I sit up.

Micah looks at me. “What happened?” I give him a shrug. “Years ago you had me make you a promise,” she tells me with worry in her tone. “I’ve tried everything I can on my own, but I need your help.” “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” Micah sits up with concern in his eyes. “Mom, what is it?” I can hear her exhaust a tense breath before saying, “It’s Kason.”



Mom didn’t say much to me on the phone, only stressing that I had to come to Tampa as soon as I could. My initial instinct was to say no, but she sounded really upset, which worried me more than I wanted to admit. She’d kept up her end of the bargain, never once mentioning Kason, so if she’s breaking that promise, something must be really bad. Micah reaches over the console and takes my anxious hand in his as we drive along Alligator Alley. “What has you so jittery?” I look at my future and see no sign of tension on his face as he drives us back to Tampa. When I hung up the phone with my mom this morning, I hopped online to find all the flights for the day were sold out, so we decided to hop in the car. “It’s just weird,” I tell him honestly. It’s been so long since I’ve even heard his name, and now all I can think about is what could be so bad that my mom needs me to step in. “I wonder how much he’s changed.” “I’m sure a lot, babe. It’s been nearly four years since you’ve seen him.” He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Is that what you’re nervous about? Seeing him again?” “Kind of.” I look down at my hand he’s holding and admire the platinum promise of his love that’s wrapped around my finger. It’s two karats of sparkling brilliance that holds the sentiment of his affections that brought me back to life. When I asked my mother to make that promise to me, it was because I didn’t trust myself not to run back to Kason. I needed to cut him out of my life as much as I possibly could. But even today, he still holds a tender spot in my heart. He always will. He was my first love, and that’s never going to change. I’ve moved on, though. I learned to love again, and I’m planning a life with Micah. He’s an easy man to love, with no baggage or issues. He’s uncomplicated and has an ungodly amount of strength to carry the weight of my soul. I just can’t help but wonder what it’s going to be like to come face to face with my past. This drive does nothing but allow my mind to wander back to when I used to spy on

Kason from my bedroom window while he cleaned the pool. Resting my head against the window, memories of our time together that I locked away flit through my head. “It’s understandable that you’d be a little anxious,” Micah reassures. I give him a smile, so thankful of his understanding. We’ve been together much longer than what Kason and I had been. Micah knows me through and through. I’ve exposed so much to him in a way I wasn’t prepared to do when I was with Kason. “You don’t think it’s silly? My being nervous to see my old high school boyfriend?” “With the way you two broke up and left things . . . no, I don’t think it’s silly. I mean, it’s even awkward on my part. I used to be best friends with the guy, and that all went to shit. Now look,” he says, bringing our hands up and looking at my ring. “We’re together and getting married. So yeah, it’s a strange situation we’re walking into.” “I guess that’s another thing I’m worried about, wondering how he’s going to react to us.” “It’s been years, Guppy,” he says with a smirk. “I’m sure he’s over it and has moved on.” I smile, loving that he still uses his pet name for me. “Do you know how much I love you?” “It better be with all the fucking love you have because that’s how much I love you.” By the time we arrive at my mom’s house, the sun has already begun its descent. As we’re retrieving our bags from the trunk, Mom opens the front door with a loving, “You made it.” She pulls me into a tight hug and then moves to embrace Micah. “How was the drive?” “Uneventful,” he tells her. We head inside, and Micah drops our belongings at the foot of the stairs. He’s been here countless times over the years. In fact, he was with me the first time I came back home after the move. I wasn’t ready, but Micah insisted. He showed me I was stronger than the memories of this town. “So what is it, Mom?” I ask, eager for her to give me answers to all the questions that have been swirling in my head. I watch her face fall, and she takes my hand. “We should sit.” The three of us take a seat on the couch with me in the middle. My stomach twists as my mother struggles to speak. “Mom, just say it. What’s going on?” “It’s Kason’s mother,” she says, touching my knee. I bring my hand to my mouth as a sinking feeling consumes me. I remember Kason telling me about her liver failure, and I’ll never forget the day she passed out and was rushed to the hospital. “Is she . . .” “It isn’t good. She’s on life support.”

“Oh God.” “She’s been really sick for a while, and it hasn’t been easy on Kason. They put her on life support a few days ago.” “What happened to her?” Micah asks, and when I look at him, I answer, “She has liver failure.” “I’m worried about Kason. He’s her power of attorney, but he refuses to make any decisions. I’ve tried talking to him, but he’s completely shut down. He only leaves her bedside long enough to go home and shower.” A piece of my heart cracks, knowing his mother is the only family he has. I’ve been in the dark about him for so long that I don’t know at what capacity my mother’s relationship is with him or if he still works for her. I’m clueless as to the whole situation, but one thing I am certain of is that when I left him on that beach, all he had was his mom and my mom. I always feared him being alone, which is why I begged my mom to stay in touch with him. “Can anything be done?” Micah questions. My mom shakes her head as her eyes fill with tears. “He’s the only one who can make the call to pull her off life support, but he won’t do it. I’ve tried everything, but he won’t listen to me. He’s just stuck, and I’m really worried about him.” “What does he say?” “Nothing. But when her health started seriously declining, he started acting really strange. There were days he wouldn’t even come into the office, and he’s become insanely irritable. It’s like he’s on drugs or something.” “Drugs?” “I mean, I don’t think he is, but I don’t know how else to explain it. He’s spiraling out of control,” she tells me. “What is it you want me to do?” “Talk to him,” she says desperately. “He doesn’t have anyone else, and he isn’t responding to me. But he needs to talk. As hard as it’s going to be, he needs to let go of his mother. And if there is something going on with him, we need to know so we can help.” I reach for Micah’s hand and hold on to it tightly. “I don’t know what I can do or if he’ll even listen to me.” “Will you try?” “What if I make things worse? He might not even want to see me after how I ran away from him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hates me.” “If I thought there were a chance of that being true, I never would’ve called you.” Dropping my head, I release a tense breath. Nerves prick from every corner of my body, but as uneasy as this whole situation is, the last thing I want is for Kason to be suffering.

“What about his friends?” “I don’t know if he has any. He’s consumed by work and school,” she tells me, and I’m not surprised. That guy was always so determined to make something of himself. But he needs a friend. Just the thought of him suffering alone causes my ribs to clench. “Hey,” Micah says gently, wrapping his free arm around my shoulders. “You knew you’d be seeing him. That’s why we came, right?” With a mountain of hesitance, I give him a nod. “I’m just scared I’m going to make it worse.” “I don’t think your mom would’ve called you if she didn’t think you could help.” I turn back to my mother, who nods. “I truly think he’ll listen to you.” “Where is he?” “Either at Tampa General or at home.” “They still have the same apartment?” “No. He moved out a couple of years ago,” she tells me. “He lives in a condo not too far from here now.” “Where?” “Channelside. I’ll write down the address for you.” She stands and walks into the kitchen to grab a pen. “How does he afford that?” I ask as Micah and I join her. She scribbles the address on a pad of paper, saying, “You told me to take care of him.” “You pay his rent?” Micah’s tone comes out a little sharp. “No.” She tears off the sheet of paper and hands it to me, telling Micah, “I pay his salary.” “Must be a hefty salary.” “Micah,” I scold lightly, but I can completely understand his annoyance over my mom being so obviously close to my ex-boyfriend. “It’s okay.” She then looks to Micah. “Kason is an employee and a friend of mine. But you,” she says as her lips spread into a smile, “you are about to marry my daughter, my favorite in the world, which makes you my second favorite.” “You think I’m jealous?” “Nope. Not at all,” she quips. He chuckles. One thing I can say about my mom is that she means it when she says she adores Micah. She sees how happy he makes me and how much we love each other. “I should head out. Can I have the keys?” “You’re going alone?” he says in surprise.

“I think it’s probably best. I don’t think now is the time to announce our relationship to him.” “You’re right.” He leans in and gives me a soft kiss. “Are you okay?” Running my hand along his jaw, I nod with an affectionate, “I love you.” “I’ll wait up.” He then hands me the keys as my mom says, “I’d try the hospital first.” It’s a short drive over to Davis Island where the hospital is. When I park, I make the decision to slip off my engagement ring, not wanting to risk the chance of him seeing it. I then grab the piece of paper my mom wrote Sharon’s room number on and start heading that way. With each step I take, I grow more and more anxious. My palms sweat as I check in with the security desk, and when I’m granted access and the double doors open, I swear I feel my heart in my throat. It’s unsettling to be walking toward the person I ran away from so suddenly. There was never a goodbye between us. I just left him. When I approach the small window to the private room, I peer through the blinds and notice all the machines first. My eyes go straight toward the woman in the bed, and I barely recognize that it’s Sharon. She’s nothing like how I remember her. There are so many wires and tubes that she’s hooked up to. Her hair is so thin I can see her scalp, and she’s withered away to nothing more than yellow skin on top of frail bones. Movement draws my attention, and every atom in my body freezes when I see him. My heart catapults into a rhythm that doesn’t make any sense. His face is hidden, but I know it’s him. He sits in a chair next to his mother’s bed. Hunched over, he holds her boney hand, and his head rests on his bent arm that’s on the mattress. I stare, because I don’t know what I should do. Everything inside me is calling me to go to him, but I’m paralyzed. After all this time I put between us, he’s here—the guy I never expected to see again. Just like when I was seventeen, I watch him through a window. He then lifts his head, revealing his face, which holds so many wonderful memories. In an instant, my past becomes my present. Though his features have matured and he wears day-old stubble, it’s still him. My heart stalls the moment our eyes catch. His forehead creases in puzzlement, but it only takes a second for clarity to smooth the lines away. When my heart finally triplebeats back into action, I regain strength that pulls my feet off the ground and leads me into the room. He doesn’t speak. He only stares at me through his swollen, red eyes, which harbor an undeniable amount of pain. All I can do is watch as his eyes fill with tears, and when they spill down his cheeks, I move effortlessly across the room. With a few quick steps, I drop to my knees in front of him, and he grabs ahold of me so quickly, so fiercely, so needy. “Adaline?” he whispers in disbelief, and I hug him as best as I can, with all my strength while he clings to me, wetting my shoulder as he cries. Before I know it, I’m crying, too. There are a million reasons attached to every tear that falls, reasons he may or may not know. But more than anything, I cry because I never

truly comprehended just how much I’ve missed the comfort of his arms when they’re wrapped around me. With everything that has changed, this feeling still remains.



My knees scream out against the hard floor beneath them, but I don’t move. I won’t. Not until Kason is ready to. We stopped crying a while ago, yet we still hold on to each other without faltering in our strength. His hands press into my skin, and I want to wail out how sorry I am, but I can’t. His mother is dying, and the last thing I need to do is bring up our heartbroken past. When his muscles loosen, I slip out of his embrace and settle back on my heels, taking the pressure away from my knees. His hands find me again, cupping my cheeks as he studies my face. I study his, too. It’s more defined, more chiseled, more matured. I look into his eyes and wonder what they’ve seen over the past few years. There’s so much I’m curious about, but I can’t speak. There’s a very foreign unease between us, and I wonder if he feels it, too. That we’ve become strangers to each other. “What are you doing here?” he asks, breaking the silence while the heat of his hands warm my cheeks. “My mom called. She told me about your mother.” “And you came?” His words are a broken whisper of surprise, shocked that, after all this time, I finally stopped hiding from him. I choke up and give him a nod before he stands and helps me to my feet. When his head drops, I look over my shoulder at his mother. Another piece of my heart snaps away as I stare down at the woman I used to be so close to. We’ve shared so many good times together, and to see her like this, so lifeless, so sick . . . it’s unbearable. I reach down and cover the top of her hand with mine. “I can’t let her go.” His voice cracks in agony as he stands by my side, and a fresh slew of tears build in my eyes. With my other hand, I reach out and hold on to his. “She was always so sweet to me,” I whimper softly.

“She loved you.” He says this and my face crumples as the tears fall. He pulls me back into his arms, and I go freely, never letting go of his mother’s hand. I’ve never been through the process of death before. But to be here and to see the reality of this situation, it’s so much more painful than I could’ve imagined. Again, we fall into another fit of sadness over a life this world is about to lose. She isn’t even my mother, and the hurt is monumental. I can’t even begin to comprehend how much worse this has to be for Kason. Words fail us, but talking feels too abrasive in this moment, so we take turns shedding tears and consoling each other, neither of us sure of what to say. When a nurse comes in to check on Sharon, I take the opportunity to ask, “Do you think we can talk? Maybe grab a coffee or something?” He nods and leads the way down to the cafeteria. We grab a couple to-go cups and walk outside for a little fresh air. The hospital sits on an island, so we situate ourselves on a small bench that overlooks the water. Kason tips his head back and stares up at the moon, the very moon that, at one time, became too difficult for me to look at because all it did was remind me of him. “Kason?” He breaks away from the sky and turns toward me. “I already know how worried your mom is,” he says. “That’s why she called you, right?” “She thought you could use a friend.” “I don’t have any of those anymore.” His jaw flexes, and he swallows hard before saying, “Only two people give a shit about me. One of them is about to die. And the other has stuck around only because you told her to.” His words sear straight through old wounds. “She would have stuck around even if I had never said anything. My mom genuinely loves you.” “I hope so. Because I’m not ready to be alone in this world.” “You aren’t alone.” “My mom’s dying,” he stresses. “If it weren’t for those machines, she’d already be dead.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his coffee cup dangling from his fingers. He’s cloaked in so much pain, I wonder if it’s suffocating him. “Tell me what I can do to help.” He shakes his head with his focus cast out on the water. “I can’t be the one who lets her die.” “It’s her body making that choice—not you.” “I don’t know how to say goodbye.” His breath catches on a sob that’s hung up in his lungs, and when I reach out and rest my hand on his back, it shudders against my palm. “She’s my mom.”

“I know.” “Life wasn’t fair to her.” “No, it wasn’t. But I believe it was you that made it better for her.” “I feel like I made it worse. I was just another mouth to feed and another back to clothe. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough for us.” He sets his cup on the ground and then wipes his teary eyes before sitting back. “She could never afford the proper medical care to keep her healthy.” “She doesn’t have to suffer any more, though. Maybe letting her go would be her greatest relief.” Silent tears stream down his face. I wish I could take them away. I wish I could do something to make this better for him. But this is a misery I can’t even come close to touching, which makes me feel so helpless. “I know you don’t want to lose your mom. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must feel like.” My words tremble as they come out. “But you don’t have to do it alone.” He turns to me. “I’m here. And if you need me there with you, then you’ll have me.” “Why?” So many questions are trapped inside that one word, and after we’ve lost so much, I give him my truth when I answer, “Because I care about you. I never stopped caring.” His face fractures at my admission. “You’d do that? You’d let me call you?” It’s something I’ve made impossible for him to do, but I’m no longer the broken teenager I was when he last saw me. I’m stronger, and there is no denying that he needs someone who can offer him a small dose of that very strength. I hold out my hand, and he pulls out his phone so I can add my contact information. When I give it back, I tell him, “I’m here for a week, so whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there so you don’t have to be alone.” He stares at his phone, at my number, at my name, as if it were a gift I just gave him. “A week,” he murmurs to himself before asking, “Then where are you going?” “I’m flying out to California.” “What’s in California?” “It’s where I’m moving,” I tell him, leaving out the most important part of that equation, which is Micah. “I’ll be there for a couple of weeks to look for a place to live.” “That’s a long way from here,” he says with so much distress I have to fight against giving him any more of an explanation. We linger a while longer as we abandon any further conversation and do something I never thought we’d do again—we look up and share our moon. I hang on for as long as I can until my throat aches from the memories of our past.

“I should probably get going.” “You sure?” “Yeah,” I tell him as I stand, take the last sip of my coffee, and toss the cup into the trashcan that’s next to the bench. “I’ll walk you to your car.” “That’s okay. I’ll be fine.” There’s so much despair in his expression—mine as well, but my heart knows its limit, and I have to go. “Call me, okay? I’m here for you.” He gives a nod before I turn and walk away. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the intensity of what just happened. For seeing Kason, for hearing his voice, for feeling his touch. It was all so familiar, yet unfamiliar, until it became too much. I drive back to my mother’s while drying all of my tears. I don’t even realize how late it is until I walk inside the darkened house. Micah is still awake, lying in my bed when I enter my old room. He sits up, the light from the pool in the backyard reflecting against his bare skin with splintered lines. All it takes is one look, and I break. I rush over and crawl into bed, clinging my arms around him and crying all over again. “Shh, baby,” he whispers in my hair as he holds me against him. I press my head to his chest to find his heartbeat, something I’ve become so dependent on because it never lets me forget that he’s my place of solace. It’s here with him, with his strong and steady life source thumping against me, telling me everything will be okay, telling me I’m safe, and reminding me that, through every choice I ever made, every right and every wrong, I was led straight into these very arms for a reason. Micah lifts my head and kisses my salty cheeks before pressing his lips to mine. I kiss him deeply because a small part of me feels guilty for being with Kason tonight. Not that I did anything wrong, not that I even wanted to. It isn’t something I can even begin to explain, but I feel it anyway. “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling away and wiping my face. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” “You loved him,” he says, his words surprising me. “You left him at a really rough time in your life, Ady. It’s understandable that you’re a little shaken up.” “So, you’re okay?” “You love me, don’t you?” I run my fingers through his hair. “Entirely.” “Then I’m okay.” He kisses me again and then adds, “I’m not going to lie, though. It was a bit shocking to know that he and your mom are close. I had no idea.” “They had become close while he and I dated. Around the time you and Trent moved

to Miami, he started working for her. And you know what his home life was like . . . I didn’t want to see him lose out on any of the things that he was working so hard toward, so I made her promise to look out for him. I also made her promise to never mention his name to me again.” “Why?” “Because it was over,” I tell him, and he pulls me on top of his lap as he sits up and leans against the headboard. “To be honest, I had no idea they were still close. I didn’t even think he’d still be working for her.” He slips his hand under my top, slides it up my stomach, and lets it rest over my heart. “You know what I love most about you?” I shake my head. “How soft your heart is. How much you care about others.” “I care about you.” I then give Micah my affections, and slowly, layer by layer, we undress each other between heated kisses. Maybe it’s all the emotions this day has thrown our way that has us begging for closeness, but we freely give in, and for the second night in a row, we make love slowly, tenderly, and with undeniable honesty.



She left almost an hour ago, but I haven’t moved from this bench. I’m stuck frozen, replaying everything that happened tonight. For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. With my lack of sleep and all the stress I’m under, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I had been hallucinating. It wouldn’t have been the first time I imagined her so vividly or that I tricked myself into thinking the image was real. But the moment she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me, I knew it was her by the warmth of her touch and the smell of her perfume. I held her longer than what I should have, but I was scared to let her go. I’ve never been much of a believer in religion and all that, but Adaline always was. She holds God so close to her heart that I swear it had to have been Him who brought her to me tonight. Her touch was exactly what I needed—the comfort of someone who knows me so well. And then she spoke. Fuck if I didn’t feel like breaking apart entirely from the sound of her sweet voice that used to visit me in my dreams after she left town and disappeared. Those dreams faded a long time ago, along with the hope I was hanging on to that she’d come back. That it wasn’t over between us. But it is over. It has been for a long time, and now she’s moving to California. For what? I have no idea. Truth is, I know nothing about who she is now. All I do know is who she was. I stare across the water over to the park, and I can see her so clearly. We were both seventeen and a bunch of us from school had come down to the bay to catch The Cheesery food truck for lunch. She was with Micah while I sat on the wall that looked over the very water I’m looking at right now. God that girl was all I could think about. I kept peeking over my shoulder just to get another fill of how pretty she was. I never thought I’d have a chance in hell with a girl like that. She proved me wrong, though. I never knew what love was until her, and I haven’t felt it since her. Honestly, after I accepted that she was really gone, I haven’t felt much of anything. For the past few years, my world has been nothing more than me free falling into every single craving that crashes over me. I’m almost twenty-three years old. I’m no longer a

confused kid wondering what the hell is wrong with him. I know what’s wrong. She was right all along. I’m an addict. I know this very well. Sex controls every aspect of my life. When she left, I no longer had a reason to even attempt to curb the ravenous hunger inside me. Adaline had always been my only reason to try to control myself. I’m uncontrollable, though. My body is its own machine, and I gave up on it a long time ago. It calls the shots, not me. It drives me from one high to the next. When I’m not high, I’m consumed with shame. And when that happens, I drink to become numb. And it’s somewhere between those three emotions that I bury myself in work and school. I’m not sure how I managed to graduate last month with my bachelor’s degree, but I did. Hell, I even passed my LSAT and was accepted into law school. I should be happy, but I no longer feel things I know I should. I’m lost and it kills me. I live in a world of ataxic sexual mania. Fitness is the other thing I’m able to fixate on. It’s one thing I do have power over. I hit the gym, and I run. I run a lot. I run when my body aches. I run when my hands shake. I run when my bones hunger far beyond my capacity of relief. And in this moment, I need relief so badly it’s painful. Especially after all the emotions Adaline just brought back to life. I pull out my phone and call my first go-to, a girl I met at USF last year who’s an easy fuck. When her voice mail picks up, I move on to the next girl, who I met online that I often meet up with, but she doesn’t answer, either. It’s nearing one in the morning, but I keep going down my contact list of girls I use over and over again. I know their names. I know what kind of lay they are. Beyond that, I know nothing else. Each of them serves as my drug of choice and nothing more. There’s no question I’m a sick fuck. Trust me, I hate myself a little more every day that passes. I reach yet another voice mail, only wishing to call Adaline. She’d be the perfect narcotic, but I shake that thought aside as quickly as it creeps in. I refuse to look at her the same way I do all the others. She’s nothing like them. She’s so much more than an object for me to use just to get off. Getting up from the bench, I rush to my car as my intensity multiplies. There are so many feelings exposing themselves right now, which only makes me want to find my high. Unwilling to waste any time, I speed over to Westshore where I sometimes find myself when I can’t get ahold of any of my contacts and jerking off won’t be enough to paralyze me. I pull into the back lot of a seedy strip club where I have come to know a couple of the low rent girls. I slip in, giving the doorman an indifferent nod, and go straight to the bar.

“Kason,” the regular bartender greets seductively. She wears a tiny cutoff top, which reveals the bottom of her tits. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You want a drink?” “A shot of whatever,” I tell her. I look over my shoulder and scan the dimly lit club. There are a few girls giving lap dances toward the back, and when I look at the ones dancing on stage, I come up empty. “Hey, is Bridgett working tonight?” She slides the shot glass of brown liquor my way. “Yeah. I think she’s on a break.” “Would you let her know I’m here?” She bats her fake eyelashes, and my gut cringes as she saunters away to find what I came for. I fucking hate coming here. It only reminds me of the dirty, decrepit man I’ve become. I shoot back the liquor, but quickly get distracted from the heat burning through my chest when a hand slides over my shoulder. “Hey, Kason.” I turn in my seat to find Bridgett, who’s wearing a pair of over the knee boots with a thong and a slutty corset. “You got ten minutes?” I whisper in her ear. The corner of her lips curve up as she slips her hand down into my pants, grabs the band, and gives me a tug. I follow her through the club filled with cigarette smoke and men who don’t want to go home to their wives. “Where do you think you’re going?” an older lady questions, stopping Bridgett in her tracks just a few steps shy the room where the girls who aren’t on the clock hang out. “Relax. He’s my boyfriend,” she lies. The lady eyes me up and down, and I shoot her a smile. “You know Randy doesn’t like it when boyfriends come here.” “So let him fuck me, and he’ll leave.” “Make it quick.” Bridgett giggles, and I lose patience, so the moment we hit the dressing room where the other girls are, I drag her ass into the private bathroom. “Take that fucking thing off,” I bite, pointing to the corset. She unfastens the hooks while I shove my pants down and slide a condom onto my dick that’s already hard and screaming to go. As soon as my head begins to blur in dopamine black, I turn her around, bend her over the sink, and pull her panties down. My skin trills from the inside out the moment I barrel into her, and my vision fades into specks of darkness. In an instant, I’m lost in a tidal wave of pleasure where nothing exists but utter euphoria. I fuck her hard and fast, her high-pitched moans echoing off the walls of this run-down bathroom. Before I know it, my hips buck, and I come. With a few more thrusts, I drain myself into the condom before tossing it into the waste can. Winded, I lean my back against the wall and catch my breath. I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand as she shimmies her panties back on.

“I get off at three if you wanna go for a second time. I can stop by your place if you want.” She picks up her corset from the floor, and after I shove my dick back into my pants, I throw her a casual, “Yeah. Just give me a call,” as I open my wallet and hand her a few twenties before walking out. Several girls stare at me as I walk through the room, well aware of what just happened, but I no longer give a shit. That is, until I reach my car. That’s when it hits me like a three-ton boulder. The shame strangles me as I drive away from the sleazy gentlemen’s club. The feeling is worse today than any other day. Maybe it’s because I saw Adaline, and all she seemed to do was serve as a reminder to how far I’ve fallen since losing her. How I’m a million times worse than what she ever knew me to be. I’m dirty and sick, and I don’t even want to know what she’d think if she were to find out just how vile I have become. It disgusts me to have her purity reflect my monstrosity so sharply it nearly blinds me. The defilement I live in churns in my stomach, and I jerk the car off onto the shoulder of the road, open my door, and heave painfully. I hurl, and my throat singes in a fiery burn as the alcohol I swallowed a little bit ago comes back up. Grabbing a bottle of water from my cup holder, I give a quick swish and spit before closing my door and taking a deep breath. My skin is cold and clammy, and when I shift the car into drive, I head back to the hospital because I refuse to waste what little time I have left with my mom while waiting for Bridgett to get off work. But it’s only a couple hours later that she calls. “I’m at Tampa General. Park in the garage,” I tell her. “What are you doing at the hospital?” “We don’t talk, remember? Text me when you’re here, and I’ll come down to you.” Twenty minutes later, I’m fucking her in the back seat of her car.

A loud knock on my door wakes me out of a deep sleep. Sun pierces through my large bedroom window, and when the knocking continues, I toss the sheets off me and drag myself out of my bed and across the condo to the front door and open it. Cheryl stands in front of me, dressed for work with her hair pinned up. “What are you doing here?” I mumble groggily as I open the door wider for her to come in. I’m used to Cheryl stopping by. Since she helped me get into this condo a few years back, she’s done it at least once a week. It’s her way of reminding me that she’s here for me more than just a boss. Hell, sometimes she even brings groceries, so I never complain. “You mind throwing some pants on?” I look down to see I’m in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I go to my room to throw on gym shorts, and when I return to the living room, she’s busying herself by straightening the pillows on the couch she bought me. She insisted that she help me furnish the place

when two weeks after I moved in, she saw I had nothing more than a mattress on the floor. “You don’t have to pick up after me,” I tell her. “I know I don’t.” She straightens a couple of other items before turning to me with a somber, “How are you doing?” “You know how I’m doing.” I fall back onto the couch, and she takes a seat on the chair next to me. “I wanted to come check on you after seeing Ady last night.” “She said you called her. Why now and not then?” “You know why,” she says softly, but it doesn’t make it easier. “She’s at your house?” “Yes.” I lean forward and brace my arms on my knees. “It wasn’t easy seeing her,” I admit. “Did she say how she’s feeling?” “It was a little hard on her.” “Why did you have her come?” She reaches out and takes my hand. “Because I’m worried about you, Kason.” “You still think I’m on drugs?” I ask. A few weeks ago when things took a turn for the worse with my mom, Cheryl pulled me aside and asked me point blank. I had become so depressed that my craving amplified, and it has been that way ever since. I haven’t been able to eat much or sleep much. I’m constantly anxious and jittery. It’s no wonder she thinks the culprit is drugs. I told her I wasn’t using, but at least she assumes it’s drugs I’m addicted to rather than getting off. “I don’t know what’s going on. And you aren’t talking to me,” she says as she straightens her posture so I’ll take her more seriously. “I love you like a son, Kason.” Her meaningful eyes bore into me. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. But there’s something going on. Something in my gut is telling me it’s more than just your mother. I didn’t know what else to do. I figured if there were anyone in this world you would open up to, it would be Ady.” “There was a time I tried to convince myself to hate her. I thought it would feel better than missing her. But as much as I tried to paint her as the bad guy, I just couldn’t.” I take my hand from hers. “She said she’s moving to California.” She gives me a subtle nod and avoids that topic, simply saying, “First loves always die hard.” “I guess so.” She takes a moment before asking, “Can we talk about your mom?” My eyes slowly make their way to hers. “It’s been four days since they hooked her up to the machines,” she says gently. “You

and I both know she didn’t want to be on life support, Kason. This wasn’t her wish.” Heat radiates up my neck to my ears and pricks in the backs of my eyes. “Don’t you think I know that?” I snap. “I know what she wanted, I just . . . I’m not ready.” “No one is ever ready to lose someone they love. But we can’t be selfish with other people’s lives.” I push off the couch and pace across the room with my palms pressed against my eyes, because I’m so sick of crying. “I know this is hard.” “It fucking sucks.” I turn to face her as she stands. “I let her go, and I have nothing left. Nothing but you. But you’re tied to the one person who doesn’t want anything to do with me. And as much as I love you, that one fact alone has always left me with the fear that one day, you’ll be gone, too.” “I’m not going anywhere.” “Oh come on. You know just as well as I do that the only thing that bound us together was her.” She takes two steps toward me. “You’re right. At one point, it was her. Was, Kason. Past tense. She isn’t the reason anymore.” “And so how is this going to work? My mom is dying, and you claim I won’t be alone, but at least my mother didn’t have to hide me from anyone like you hide me from Adaline.” “I’m not hiding you now, am I?” she defends. “She didn’t have to come here, Kason. I might have asked her to, but she made that choice on her own.” “She’s here for now, but how long until she shuts me out again?” “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t see her doing that.” She walks over to where I stand next to the window that grants me a water view of the port. “Ady isn’t that fragile girl she once was. Her heart is still very compassionate, but she’s stronger and more tenacious.” I clench my jaw down to keep my emotions at bay. Seeing her last night . . . it was as if a bomb went off. And even though the constants still remain in place, everything feels different. “Whatever happens, we’ll work it out, okay?” Shifting away from the window, I look at the woman who stepped up to the plate when I needed her the most. “Tell me what to do here, because I’m stuck.” She runs her hands down my arms and presses her lips together before saying. “One thing at a time, okay?” My muscles tense in an effort to brace myself against the words I know are coming next. With her most tender voice, she speaks. “You need to say goodbye to your mother. I

know it’s going to be hard, but you’re only making it worse on yourself the longer you hang on to her. And if there is anything I can do to make this easier on you, I’ll do it. You know I will.” I nod, because if I dare open my mouth, I won’t be able to control the pain of my heart ripping apart. Cheryl doesn’t say anything else, only hugs me and stays a while longer as I stare out the window, wondering how different the world is going to feel with one less person in it.



I stand out on the balcony and down the last of my beer. After Cheryl left yesterday, I spent the day at the hospital. I held my mom’s hand for hours while talking to her, wondering if she could even hear me. I told her all the things I never could open up to her about while leaving out all of the bad shit. If she were listening, I couldn’t have her leave this world with any negativity weighing on her conscience. I talked a lot about my time with Ady. I talked about Cheryl and work. I even told her that I got accepted into law school, because by the time I got the letter, she was already so sick and confused, she barely even knew who I was. I shared my ambitions of working as a prosecutor and wanting to make a difference in this world. There was even a shred of laughter that escaped me when I thought about the possibility of battling it out in the courtroom one day with Cheryl. “She’s a hard-ass, Mom. As much as I would want to make you proud, I’m fairly confident she’d have me kissing my own ass goodbye as she threw me into the flames. That woman puts up a hard fight,” I said. One of the nurses brought me in a plate from the cafeteria for dinner, but I couldn’t eat. My stomach was too knotted. It has been ever since I left to come home to sleep, and it still remains that way now as I look out onto a new day—the day. I made my mind up yesterday when talking to her. I cried and told her how sorry I was. I went ahead and said my goodbyes then and there, knowing I wouldn’t be able to today. The call to the hospital has already been made. They know I’m on my way. As much as I want to do this alone, I know that without someone next to me, I’ll probably change my mind. With that, I pull out my phone and do something I’ve wanted to do ever since the day she disappeared. I call her. “Hello?” she says when she answers.

“Hey, it’s Kason.” “Kason, hi.” Her tone comes through as surprised. My heart thumps nervously. “You said I could call you if I needed you.” “Is everything okay?” “I really need you today,” I tell her as agony bleeds through my words. “Do you think you could meet me at the hospital?” Without a second of hesitance, she responds, “Of course. I’ll head that way right now.” I arrive before she does, and I sit in a chair outside my mother’s room. Never has my chest been so tight that it hurts to breathe. So I sit, scared to walk in and see her, knowing it will be the last time. I hold on to my breaths to keep myself from crying, but my chest tremors regardless of how much I fight. A warm hand touches my shoulder, and when I lift my head from my palms, Adaline is standing in front of me. Her head dips to the side, and even though no tears are present, I can tell she was just crying. She doesn’t attempt to speak, and neither do I. She takes my hand, and when I stand, the nurse I spoke to when I arrived approaches. “The doctor is on his way now. Would you like for me to call the chaplain?” And that’s when it hits. Like a barreling avalanche, the weight of the world comes tumbling down on me. I squeeze the shit out of Adaline’s hand, but nothing can stop this pain. Silently, I cry and shake my head no. “Come here,” Adaline whispers as she pulls me into my mother’s room, closing the door for privacy. That’s when I fall into her arms. She holds me tight against her, and a few strands of her hair stick against my damp cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” she tries to reassure, and when I draw back, I walk straight over to my mom. “At least she won’t have to suffer anymore,” she says, and I nod, but I selfishly want to keep my her alive. There’s a light knock on the door before it opens. “Mr. Stratton,” her doctor greets as he walks in along with two nurses. He shakes my hand, but I still can’t speak. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. He begins to talk, but the only sound I hear is the blood pumping through me. I don’t even look at him, keeping my eyes on the woman who worked herself to the bone to keep a roof over our heads. She may have been an absentee mother, but she had no other choice. It was either allow us to be homeless or leave me to constantly fend for myself. She had no way of knowing what the after effects of such abandonment would do to me, had no clue that she’d hired a monster to watch over me, shaping me into the abomination I am. At least she will die without ever knowing. When she looked at me, all she ever saw was a kid determined to succeed. I wanted to make her proud. She was a good mom. She did the best she could with the cards she was dealt.

Peeling my eyes away, I look at Adaline, who is still holding my hand. The doctor continues to talk, his voice muted in a faraway tunnel. Adaline gives him a nod, and then the two of them, along with the nurses turn to me. His lips move with no sound. Adaline wraps her other hand around my bicep. “Mr. Stratton,” I finally hear him say. “Do you have any questions?” I shake my head. “Are you ready?” My chin quivers like it used to when I was a little boy trying to be strong in the wake of fear. “They can’t start until you give the okay,” Adaline tells me, and when the nurses walk around to where the two of us stand, we take a couple steps back as I give the doctor an approving nod, even though I don’t approve at all. Everything happens so fast as I stand and watch. The doctor turns off the ventilator and then removes the tube from the machine while the nurses turn off the other machines and unhook the wires connected to the woman who gave me life. I hear her gasp a few times before she goes silent. They roll everything away from her and quickly exit the room, and with nothing left to fight for, I let go of a gut-wrenching sob. It rips out violently from deep within, and I cry. Taking my mom’s hand back in mine, I hold it to me as tears carve their devastation down my face. My knees give way, and Adaline pulls a chair up for me to sit in. As I lay my head next to my mother’s arm, I feel so empty. Adaline stands behind me with her arms wrapped around my body as she hunches over me. She cries, too, her tears dripping down my neck. I sense movement, and when I lift my head, the doctor is back in the room with one of the nurses. She checks my mom’s pulse and then flashes a light in her eyes. When she nods to the doctor, he pronounces her time of death, and then they leave again, closing the door behind them. The sounds of my grief are guttural. They burn and ache and render me completely weak. Her sheets dampen beneath my face from my sadness, and when Adaline presses her wet cheek against mine, something in me ticks. As much as I want her, need her, and still love her, she brings nothing but more pain. She abandoned me and tossed me away as if I were nothing to her. And in just a few days, she’ll be gone again. I want her. God, she’s all I’ve ever wanted, but knowing I’ll never have her again, only makes all of this worse. I can’t open myself up again. I can’t do it. I sit up and shrug her off me. She steps to my side and reaches for me again, but I stop her. “Just go.” With tears streaming down her face, her eyes widen at the hard tone in my voice. “Leave,” I clip harshly. “You’re going to eventually, so just do it now.” Stumbling back a few small steps, she whimpers, “Kason, please.”

“Get out!” Confusion and shock lash across her face, and as much as I want to soothe them away, truth is, even though she comforts, she injures even more. Loving her destroyed me, and in her attempt to console, she’s doing nothing but grinding my broken pieces to dust. I can’t take the heartbreak all over again on top of my mom dying. I’ll never be back with Adaline, so why even pretend? Her look turns to pity. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I’m so sorry.” She then turns abruptly and rushes out of the room. Her crying fades away into the distance, and I drop back to my mom and endure the torture as my heart hollows. It’s in this moment I begin to question everything: love, life, hope. The three things every human should cling to, but why is it that those very things are what cause me the greatest pain? How the fuck am I supposed to find happiness, or even just a sliver of peacefulness?



“Could you pass the scones, dear.” “This is a lot of food, Mom,” Micah says as he passes the platter across the table. “What we don’t eat you can take back with you to Cheryl’s.” Jillian tucks a lock of her short golden hair behind her ear. Her eyes are the same midnight blue as her son’s, and after she takes a sip of her coffee, she says, “It’s too bad she couldn’t join us this morning.” “She’s been so tied up the past couple of days dealing with all the funeral arrangements and stuff.” My mother was supposed to attend breakfast this morning, but instead, she’s at the florist, picking out flowers. She’s been helping Kason make decisions and paying for everything, including picking up all the medical bills. I haven’t spoken to him since I left the hospital a couple of days ago. It broke my heart to leave him there, but it broke even more to know that I was inflicting more pain on him, which was my biggest fear about coming back. I’ve wanted to reach out to him, but I also don’t want to cross any boundaries either, so out of respect, I’ve kept my distance. Dan, Micah’s dad, swallows down a forkful of eggs and wipes his mouth with his napkin before looking to his son. “How’s Kason holding up?” “Don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet.” Dan gives him a peculiar look, and I explain, “It all happened pretty quickly after we got into town.” “It’s awful to lose a parent so early in life,” Jillian says. “Do you know when the funeral will be? Dan and I want to be there for Kason. He was always such a nice young man.” “And a hard worker.” I acknowledge Dan and smile. “He was always so grateful for you getting him into the high school here and for the job you gave him.” Reaching under the table, I lay my hand

on Micah’s thigh, and he’s quick to lace his fingers between mine before I look back to his dad, adding, “And I believe the funeral will be the day after tomorrow. I’m pretty sure that’s what my mom told me this morning, but I’ll double-check and call you later today.” “Well, in the meantime,” his mom says as her smile grows, “have you two discussed a date for the wedding? You’ve been engaged for six months now. I feel as if I’m more excited than you two are.” “Our whole lives are up in the air,” Micah tells her, shaking his head in mild laughter. “I know, I know.” “The kids just graduated, Jill. Now they’re about to move to the other side of the country. Let them breathe a little.” We all chuckle at her enthusiasm. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “Before we came, we were actually toying with the idea of this fall.” “This fall? As in four months?” “Mom, chill. Ady doesn’t want anything big.” I can see a hint of disappointment in her eyes, but she keeps her smile in place. Her elation since Micah proposed in front of the both of them on Christmas morning has been apparent. She has one child. One wedding. Same with my mom. But where my mother is low key, Jillian is all about the lavish parties and vacations. As much fun as I have when Micah and I come home to attend one of her elaborate parties, it’s never been what I wanted for my wedding. “All I need is a church and a pretty dress.” “Where are you thinking?” Micah sits back in his chair as he runs his thumb over the top of my hand. “We haven’t talked about it, but I already know how busy my event schedule will be going into the colder months.” “If you’re considering staying put in California, La Jolla would be a beautiful place. Or even Coronado Island. That’s where your cousin got married a few years ago, you remember?” Micah nods. “Like I said, we haven’t even discussed it yet.” “Let them get moved and settled,” Dan says before popping a bite of bacon into his mouth. “When do you two fly out to meet with the realtor?” “Three days,” Micah answers. “We’ll stay for the funeral, but we have to get back to Miami right after.” “Have you started packing at all?” “Just a few things here and there,” I respond as Jillian takes another sip of her coffee. We fall into small talk, and eventually drift into them asking more questions about Micah’s surfing, which they’ve been slow to come around to accepting over the past couple of years.

When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I take it out and keep it concealed under the table as I look at the text. Kason: I’m sorry about the other day.

“Everything okay?” Micah questions when he notices I have my phone out. With concern for Micah in my tone, I tell him, “It’s Kason.” He’s completely understanding, though. “It’s okay. Do you need to talk to him?” I nod and then address his parents. “Excuse me for a moment.” I take my cell and slip out back, heading down to the dock. Kicking off my sandals, I sit on the edge and dip my toes into the water before texting him back. Me: You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry if I made things harder on you. That was never my intention.

I hit send, and he doesn’t make me wait long for his response. Kason: I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Me: It’s really okay. So, I know this is a stupid question, but it’s one I would feel weird about if I didn’t ask, but how are you doing? Kason: I don’t even know how to begin to answer that. I’ve been questioning a lot lately. Me: Like what?

And this time, it takes a handful of minutes for his response to come. I drag my feet lazily over the top of the water while staring down at the screen, waiting for his reply. Kason: Everything.

I want to ask more, but I don’t know where the lines are drawn between us. I feel like I barely know anything when it comes to him. Me: What can I do? I feel so helpless. Kason: I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Me: Will you let me try? Kason: How?

A moment of hesitation slips between a heartbeat before I type my response. Me: Maybe I could come over later. I could distract you with one of my crappy movies you used to tease me about. Kason: You always had the worst taste in movies.

It’s now that I realize I’m smiling. Me: I think you secretly liked them. After all, you never really put up a decent fight to get out of watching them. Kason: I had my reasons. Me: Care to share?

Again, he isn’t quick to respond, and when the screen eventually dims out, I look across the water at a pelican taking a dive off one of the pilings. He catches a fish, and it flops around in its bill pouch for a few seconds before he swallows it. My phone then buzzes.

Kason: Because you would always lie on top of me and fall asleep halfway through. I liked the way it felt.

I release a deep exhale when I think back. We spent so much time together in the bliss of first love and the yearning to constantly be around each other. I laugh under my breath when I recall how annoyed Trent and Micah would get with us every time we bailed on them. The two of them would always give us so much crap. But we didn’t care—we were in love. His words come across heavy, though, in a way that tugs at one of my loose heartstrings. It’s the memory of what once was but no longer is. Sometimes, it’s the most precious memories that can hurt the most. “Ady,” Micah calls out from the back door. “You about ready?” “Just one second.” He goes inside to wait for me, and I turn to my phone. Me: I have to go. I can stop by later this afternoon. My mom gave me your new address. Will you be around? Kason: Yeah.

Tucking my phone into my pocket, I head back inside. Jillian had suggested spending a little girl time together shopping in Hyde Park after our breakfast, and when I step in to the dining room, she’s already clearing the table. “Let me help you with that,” I offer and then start grabbing the food to take into the kitchen. “Is everything good?” Micah asks when he pulls me aside. “He was just texting to apologize.” Micah pushes his fingers through my hair, and his eyes soften, knowing how upset I was that day and how much I wanted to go back to Miami. We both felt obligated to wait until after the funeral, so we stayed. But it hurt to know that my presence, even though Kason asked for it, made the situation worse. “You feel better now?” I nod. “This whole trip is just . . .” “Uncomfortable?” he says, completing my thought. I rest my head against him as we wrap our arms around each other, absorbing this moment of peace. There’s nothing uncomfortable between the two of us, and I never appreciated it more than I do now. “After your mom and I get back, I told Kason I would stop by to check in on him.” Micah draws back with furrowed brows. “You told him you’re going out with my mom?” “No. I was just telling you that. But, as much as I’m not looking forward to it, I do need to have that conversation with him. I mean, I don’t want him to find out when he sees us at the funeral.”

“I agree. He needs to know beforehand.” He then wavers. “I’m wondering if I should even go. It’s not like he’s expecting me. We haven’t spoken in years.” “You aren’t going for him, Micah. I’m the one who needs you there. This whole thing is upsetting, and I don’t want to be without you.” He’s my fiancé, and I don’t want to hide him. Not that I want to flaunt him, either, but he’s the one I turn to when I need comfort and support. It doesn’t matter that it’s been years since Sharon and I last saw each other, it is still beyond painful to lose her. And now, to attend her funeral, well, it isn’t something I want to go through without having Micah there for me. As awkward as I feel about telling Kason, I know it’s something that needs to be done sooner rather than later. When he leans down to kiss me, I slip my arms around his neck and giggle against his lips when he straightens and lifts me off my feet. “I love you,” I mumble against his soft kiss, and when he pulls back, he returns my sentiment, saying with a smirk, “I love you, too, Guppy.” “Look at you two,” his mother croons when she steps into the room. I tap his shoulder to set me down, but instead, he goes in once more and kisses me for show. As I lose myself to a fit of laughter, he sets me down and ravishes my neck as I swat his arm. He eventually relents with a cocky grin but refuses to drop his arms from around me. “You’re obnoxious, you know that?” “How could I forget? You’ve been reminding me of it for years,” he teases, and I can’t help myself when I take his face and pull his lips back to mine for a sweet kiss. “All right now. Let go of her so we can go shopping.” With one last peck, he says, “I’ll see you later.” Jillian and I head out. We drive over to Hyde Park and spend the next few hours wandering in and out of the various shops, buying things here and there. We chat about wedding stuff and the upcoming move. It’s always nice when I’m around Micah’s parents. I’ve known them since I was in high school, so it was just another point of ease when Micah and I started getting closer. Everything felt like it was already in line for that transition, and the two of us fell into it naturally, even though it took time. When we return to the house, Micah is ready to go, telling me, “I hope you don’t mind, but I made plans with an old buddy of mine to go skimming down at Indian Rocks.” “That’s fine. I’m just going to stop by Kason’s to talk to him and then go back home.” We say our goodbyes, and when we get into the car, Micah chuckles, “I think you kind of broke her heart.” “Whose? What are you talking about?” “My mom. The wedding. You know that woman lives to throw events.” I slip my hand into his. “You really think she’s upset about it?” He shakes his head. “Maybe a little, but she’ll be okay.”

“Well, what do you want? Everyone keeps asking me, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.” He pulls up to a red light. “Honestly, I want exactly what you want. Small. Simple. You and me and our parents. That’s all I need.” “Are you sure?” “Babe,” he says, “I’ll say it for forever: you’re enough. You’re more than enough and all I’ll ever need to be happy. I don’t need any of that other shit, nor do I want it.” He pulls the biggest smile out of me. “It’s you and me,” he says, and that’s all I need. “I can’t wait to marry you.”



When we get back to my mom’s, Micah throws on his board shorts and gets his things together before his friend, Brogan, stops by to pick him up. After they leave, I shoot Kason a quick text. Me: Is it all right if I head over now? Kason: Just got back from a run. About to hop in the shower, but I’ll be here.

I wait around to give him time to clean up and go downstairs to check in with my mom. She’s on her computer when I walk into her office. “I just heard Micah leave. I figured you went with him,” she says without lifting her eyes from the monitor. “He went to the beach to skim for a while with a friend of his.” “Why didn’t you go with him?” I take a few steps in and sit down on a chair. “I told Kason I would come by.” Her eyes finally lift, and her fingers stop typing. “Is everything okay between the two of you?” I shrug. “I think so. He texted me earlier and apologized.” “You know he didn’t mean it.” “I know, Mom.” “I’m glad he’s letting you come over,” she says. “He’s hardly said a word since his mom passed away.” I lean back in the chair and mindlessly scan the room, looking at all of my mother’s law books and awards displayed on her bookshelves. But then a framed photo catches my eyes and pulls me out of the chair and across the room. Sitting on the end table next to one of the small loveseats in the corner of the office is a picture of her and Kason at his college graduation. I pick it up and look down at the two of them. He wears his cap and gown and

has a beaming smile on his face, which doesn’t even come close to the prideful one on my mother’s. I look over my shoulder to find her watching me. “It’s weird, you know?” “What is?” “To realize there’s another side to your life I know nothing about.” She then stands and walks over to me. “It’s how you wanted it, sweetheart.” “I know. I just didn’t think . . .” My words fall short when unforeseen emotions settle at the base of my throat. She takes the frame from my hands and sets it back on the side table, and when we take a seat on the sofa, she prompts me to continue. “You didn’t think what?” “That you two would still be a part of each other’s lives. I mean, I figured you would for a while, but . . . I don’t know . . .” I take a second to figure out what I mean before I continue. “The more time that passed, the more I moved on and the less space he occupied inside my head. Eventually, I stopped thinking about him. He was no longer a part of my world, so subconsciously, I assumed he wasn’t a part of yours.” I look into my mother’s eyes. “I never thought you two would get so close.” “I never thought we would, either, but we did. It’s been difficult to keep it from you, because he’s become an extension of this family.” She takes my hand in hers. “It’s always been hard on him, you know? The fact that I have to exclude him at times to protect you and your wishes.” A span of silence grows between us, and I look once more at the photo before murmuring, “This is all so awkward—to know someone so well, but at the same time, not know them at all.” “Maybe you going over there will help bridge that gap to make it less uncomfortable for you.” “Maybe.” “How is Micah handling all of this?” “He seems absolutely fine,” I tell her. “I mean, I feel weird about it, but he doesn’t, so maybe I shouldn’t, either.” “It’s normal to feel weird in this situation. And you’re lucky that Micah is so supportive. Not many guys would be as understanding as him.” I look at my mom, and I’m so thankful for our relationship. “I’m going to miss you when I’m in California.” “Oh no,” she warns. “Don’t you dare start that now. I’m nowhere near emotionally ready to deal with that just yet.” I laugh at her dramatics, and she’s quick to dismiss herself from the conversation. “I have to get back to this email.” “I guess that’s my cue,” I say as I stand. “I’ll be back later.”

“All right. I hope the two of you have a good visit.” I bring up the directions to Kason’s place, and it only takes a few minutes before I’m in the Channel District, pulling up to the apartment high-rise. It’s a far contrast to the apartment he used to live in with his mom, and I know my mother must be paying him above and beyond to afford to live in a place like this right next to the water. The second I step off the elevator on the eleventh floor, my nerves kick in, and I wipe my sweaty palms on the back of my shorts. I don’t even know why I’m so anxious. I knock, and when he opens the door, my heart drops when I see his face is marred in stress and sadness. “Hey.” “Hi,” I respond, but my voice comes out much too feeble. I step inside and take a glance around the wide-open space that’s more of a loft than an apartment with its high, exposed ceiling that gives it an industrial look. “Wow. This is really nice.” I turn around, and he’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. It soothes me a bit to see he’s a little nervous, too. “Your mom . . . she helped me get this place.” I think back to his old apartment. Even though it was run-down and barely furnished, there was something about it that made me feel so comfortable. I used to love spending my time there, but this new place is so different, only spotlighting how much things have changed. “You even have a water view,” I note as I walk over to the expansive windows that line the outer wall. I look down, and where my view back in Miami is filled with yachts, his is filled with porting cruise ships. Turning around, I watch him as he walks across the space and takes a seat on the couch. “I’m happy for you.” The moment the words come out of my mouth, I regret them, knowing he just lost his mom. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” “It’s okay. I know what you meant.” I step over and take a seat next to him. I’m tongue-tied behind my lips as I file through an array of conversation starters, but for some reason, I can’t speak. Kason takes the pressure away from me when he says, “So, when do you leave?” “I have to get back home after the funeral. My flight leaves the next morning.” His brows furrow, reminding me that he has no idea where home is for me. His lips twitch, and it takes him a few seconds to ask with so much strain in his voice, “Where was it you ran to?” I can barely swallow when his words take me back to where I left him on the beach. A ripe, hot tear drips down my cheek while I fight to keep my composure. “Tell me where you went.”

“Miami.” His shoulders drop, and he slumps over, clasping his hands together, and I know he’s fitting the pieces together. Pieces I’m terrified to explain. “I thought you went back to Texas,” he says and then lifts his head to me. “Why Miami?” Silently, we share a mutual understanding as of why, but he asks anyway to seek clarification, “Was it because Micah and Trent were there?” I give him a slow nod. His jaw flexes as he bites down hard. “I called them. I even went there.” “I know,” I confess. “You knew?” “I was hiding in my bedroom.” He presses his lips together as the muscles in his forearms constrict. “Do you have any clue what that did to me?” And here we are again, skating around the true reason why all this happened in the first place. But I won’t mention it because it might be a topic he doesn’t want to touch. “I needed a fresh start,” I tell him. “I didn’t know where to go, and then Trent and Micah offered me the spare room in their condo.” “Is that where you’ve been living all these years?” “Yeah.” His breathing begins to stagger, and I can tell how badly he’s trying not to fall apart. “There’s so much empty space between then and now. It used to be so easy to talk to you, but now . . .” “I’m sorry.” “I fucking miss you,” he says, getting choked up, and I feel so guilty for all the choices I’ve made that have led us to this place. “I thought I was done feeling that way. But then you show up out of nowhere.” Unshed tears shine in his eyes, and I swear they cut straight through my heart when he reveals, “I thought I was over you.” “Kason . . .” His hand finds mine, and when he holds it, I suddenly realize I forgot to take my ring off. My body chills, and I freeze as I watch his thumb slide over the diamond. My head drops, and I think I hear the pounding of his heart as I avoid his eyes. “Jesus,” he mutters under his breath in complete shock as he holds my hand tighter. After a second, I pull it from his grip and wipe my face as another tear spills over. “Are you fucking married?” With so much hesitance, my eyes meet his menacing, heartbroken ones. I catch my breath just enough to say, “Not yet . . . I’m engaged.” “You met someone else?”

Everything inside me seizes when I see how much this just shattered him, and I can’t even speak. He stands and paces away from me. All I can do is watch, wishing I had never come here. I’m only hurting him more and more all over again. “God, I must’ve been stupid to think you’d come back to me when you were ready to love again.” “Kason, please.” He then turns, and with a vicious bite in his tone, he tells me, “I never unloved you.” I stand and rush toward him. “I didn’t unlove you, either, Kason. It wasn’t like that.” “You have a goddamn ring on your finger! How the fuck does that happen if you love me?” “I don’t know,” I cry. “You just . . .” “I just what?” “You just . . . faded.” “I didn’t fade, Adaline,” he lashes. “You pushed me away. You forced me out of your life!” In desperation to console him, I reach out, only for him to take a step back, refusing my touch. Fury blazes from him, and it scorches me in unfathomable guilt. “So who is it?” he then asks, his eyes growing sad through all his anger. “What’s the name of the man you felt was more worthy of your love?” “I didn’t do this to hurt you.” “Just tell me.” Knowing how much I’m about to destroy him, I cower, dropping my head to my palms and crying loudly in utter fear. “Say it, Adaline. What’s the name of the guy you gave your world to?” he presses, lifting his arms out as he says this. Dropping my hands, I look at his face, which is swirled in muted colors through my tears. I have to tell him. I have no other choice, so I take in a broken breath and stab him straight through his heart. “It’s Micah.” His face morphs into stone. Every curve, every line, every single feature goes rigid at my admission. His fists clench at his sides, and his chest rises and falls as he digests the fact that I’m marrying the guy who used to be his best friend. “Let me get this straight.” His voice is so steady that it scares me. “You threw me away, vanished from my life, and fell in love with Micah?” “It isn’t like that.” “You let him . . .” His fists ball so tightly, the veins pop out in his arms, and then he loses it. “You let him fucking touch you!”

“Kason—” “Get the fuck out!” “Let me explain.” “Explain what? That you gave him your heart, the heart that fucking belongs to me? Fuck you!” I burst into uncontrollable tears, and every attempt I make to speak is buried beneath agonizing sobs as I reach for him, pleading for understanding, but he’s too far gone, yelling at me and throwing everything in my face. All I want to do is explain that this isn’t about who I love more, but that I simply need a different kind of love than what I used to. Everything happens so fast, and before I know it, he has me by the arm and is forcing me out, slamming the door in my face. My mind floods with maniacal guilt, wishing I could go back and change the past. And then I cry even harder because if I never would’ve walked away from Kason, I never would’ve found the love that saved me in Micah. So I crumble, hating that in this madness, I’m doubting myself. Because to doubt myself, is to doubt Micah and everything we share. And I can’t let myself do that. I love him. And as scared as I am to admit it, there’s a piece of me, a piece I long ago buried deep within my heart, a piece I forgot was even there, that still loves Kason.



Sleep refuses me once again, just as it did last night after I returned from seeing Kason. I was so upset after what had happened that I couldn’t even talk to my mom about it when I came back in tears. She gave me space, and luckily, I didn’t have to wait long until Micah returned from the beach. He found me sitting in my room, crying. He asked what had happened, and I told him everything. Once he was able to calm me down enough to quiet my tears, I told him to take me back home. When we went downstairs to explain everything to my mom, she talked me into not leaving until after the funeral. “You don’t have to talk to him, but you should at least show up,” she said. “He doesn’t want to see me. You should’ve seen how angry he was, Mom.” “Of course, he was. Right now, he’s angry at the whole world. But I think it would hurt him more if you didn’t show up.” It took some convincing, but I eventually conceded to staying. So here I lay, next to Micah, who is sound asleep while my memories wrap around me like a web. I try to ignore the real reason why I want to go back to Miami so badly. The reason being, that ever since I came here and saw Kason, I’ve been feeling way too much, more than I’m willing to acknowledge. It’s confusing me and heightening my emotions. I’ve cried far too much in this past week, and I’m starting to wear down. Micah inhales deeply as he rolls over and drapes his arm across my stomach. His long hair is mussed, and when I run my fingers through it to push it off his forehead, my chest tightens around my heart. It’s sadness and love mixed together. As I stare down at his face, which is smooth and peaceful, the face my lips have touched every inch of, I silently tell myself that I love him. Somehow, it feels more like I’m trying to remind myself, but I need no reminding. He’s been my constant, the one who

was able to give me exactly what I needed to mend and grow strong. He stood by my side and helped me battle away the demons. He was there every step of the way. And he’s here now—loving and supporting me the way he always has. His face then illuminates in a soft glow, and when I turn my head, I notice the light is coming from the screen of my cell phone. Reaching over, I pick it up to find a text from Kason. Kason: Stay.

I read the single word several times before I text back. Me: Stay? Kason: After the funeral. Don’t go.

I look over at Micah, who’s still sound asleep, and then I roll on my side, away from him. Me: I have to. We’re meeting with our realtor to find a place to live. Kason: Let him go then, and you stay.

I type my reply slowly, scared to know the truth behind his request. Me: I’ve only made everything worse by coming. Why would you want me to stay?

There’s a panging in my chest as I wait for his response, and when it finally comes, the pang hits harder. Kason: Because I need you.

I swallow thickly, and I can’t figure out how those words make me feel. One thing I do know is that I shouldn’t allow him to say things like that to me. Instead of telling him that, I reply: Me: You were so angry with me yesterday. All I seem to be doing is hurting you, and I don’t want to do that. Kason: Just tell me you’ll stay.

His persistence makes me nervous, and when Micah shifts from behind me, I instantly feel guilty for even texting Kason like a thief in the night. So, in the fret of my conscience nagging, I do the right thing by Micah. Me: I’m sorry. But I have to go back home and take this trip.

I keep the phone in my hand and wait for his response, but it never comes. After about fifteen minutes, I set the phone back on the nightstand before rolling over and curling up with Micah while I continue to battle with falling asleep. When morning arrives, my lids are heavy, and Micah takes notice, kissing them and asking, “Another rough night?” “Yeah.” “You should have woken me.” “Why?” I ask as he pulls me in closer while we linger in bed. “There’s no need for both of us to be miserable and tired.”

“I hate that this trip has been so hard on you. Only a few more hours and then we can get back home.” Micah starts dropping kisses along my shoulder as my mind goes back to last night’s texts, throwing my guilt in the opposite direction. I don’t like the thought of Kason burying his mother today just to be left all alone afterward. “What if I stayed?” He pulls back and gives me a look of confusion. “What are you talking about?” “I don’t know. I just feel like my mom has a lot going on right now, and I wonder if she could use my help,” I say too easily, knowing it’s only a blanket I’m using to cover the truth. I don’t even know why I just did that, and I want to take it back just as quickly as I put it out there. “I mean, I know I can’t stay. A part of me just feels bad for leaving her right now.” Being the great guy that he is, he entertains the idea, saying, “You really think she needs the help?” I shrug, hating myself for even mentioning this half-truth. The thing is, she does have a full plate right now, but that wasn’t the true reason behind my asking. “It was just a thought. I’m sure she’s fine. Forget I said anything.” He gives me a curious look, but I reassure him with a smile. We’re not quick to abandon the bed, lingering as long as we can before we’re forced to hop in the shower and get dressed. Dread fills my stomach, and Micah takes notice of my jitters while I finish my makeup. “Are you okay?” “I’ll be fine,” I tell him weakly. Truth is, I’m nervous about the funeral, I’m nervous about saying my last goodbye, I’m nervous about seeing Kason after the big blow up, and I’m nervous for him to see me with Micah. There’s so much anxiety swarming inside me that it’s causing my stomach to ache. “How can I help?” I twist the cap back on to my lip gloss and turn to face Micah. Reaching up, I run my hand along his jaw and push up onto my toes to kiss his lips. It’s a still kiss, neither of us moving as he allows me to seek contentment in it. His hands press into my back, pulling me tighter against him, and when my mouth breaks from his, I hug him. We take this quiet moment to lean on each other, and when he whispers, “Tell me what you need,” I answer easily, saying, “I just need you.” That’s exactly what he gives me, holding my hand and never letting go as we walk downstairs. Words are at a minimum as the three of us get into my mother’s SUV and drive to the cemetery. Again, he takes my hand when he helps me out of the car and keeps it secured in his. My heart pounds so hard, I feel its thundering deep down in my stomach, and when we walk into the chapel, Kason is already there—alone. He sits in the front pew hunched over with his head in his hands and his mother in the casket in front of him. My mom goes to him, and when she sits at his side and wraps her arm around his

broad shoulders, his head falls against hers like a little child. It breaks my heart because I want to be able to give him comfort, too, but I’m terrified as Micah and I stand at the back of the room. In a way, I feel like an intruder, like I don’t belong here. She whispers something in his ear, and he lifts his head. I go numb when he turns and looks over his shoulder at me and then Micah. I take in his tear-stained, splotchy face before he turns back around. My hand has a death grip on Micah’s as he begins to walk. Out of respect, he seats us a few rows back from Kason and my mom. From where we sit, I can hear Kason sniffing as my mother attempts to console him. And it’s now, finally seeing the two of them together, that I realize the magnitude of the bond they share. It’s as if she’s consoling her own child, and I thank God that she took him into her heart. I don’t even want to think about what his life would be like without her. I watch as a few people file in, and soon Micah’s parents join us. Jillian takes in my sadness and holds my hand in hers while Micah keeps his arm wrapped around me. I look up to see the pastor talking to Kason and my mom. He says something, and Kason shakes his head before dropping it back down into his hands while my mom rubs his shoulder. She gives him the okay to begin the service, and it’s at this point, with only a handful of people in the pews, my heart breaks a little more. I’ve always known that Kason and his mother lived a very quiet and deprived life, but to see so few people here reminds me of just how alone Kason truly is in this world. The service is short, but my tissues are soaked. Micah kisses the top of my head and wipes a few stray tears from my face before we make our way out to the gravesite. Kason’s eyes avoid the two of us, but mine stay on him as I watch silent pain stream down his face. Last words are spoken from the pastor, and soon enough, the few people that showed up disperse. Jillian and Dan go over to offer their condolences and then step to the side with my mother, leaving Kason alone. “We should go say something,” Micah says, giving me an encouraging look. “It would be wrong not to.” I give him a timid nod, and when we approach Kason, I pull my hand away from Micah, not wanting to flash our affections in front of him. I watch anxiously as Micah holds his hand out for Kason. They shake, and Micah keeps his words polite and on the surface. “It’s been a while.” Kason flicks his eyes to me for a split second before returning them to Micah. “It has.” “I’m really sorry about your mom.” “Yeah, man. It’s life, right?” he says stiffly, and when Micah takes a step away, Kason turns his head to me. I step up to him and give him a hug. We keep it short, and when we break away, I get

choked up again. Unable to speak, he grants me reprieve, murmuring, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” My face twists painfully as tears continue to flow, and with his eyes still pinned on me, I duck my head and turn around. Micah’s arm slips over my shoulders, and I start to break down as we walk away to wait for my mother in the car. “I feel so bad for him,” I weep. “I know you do. It’s a horrible situation.” “He has no family now. He doesn’t even have friends.” Micah continues to do his best to comfort me, and after a while, my mother opens the door and slips in behind the wheel with a heavy sigh. She turns in her seat and lays her hand on my knee. “Are you okay, dear?” “I didn’t think this would be so hard.” Her own tears slip down her cheeks, and she’s quick to wipe them as she turns back around. Looking over my shoulder through the back window, I see Kason in the distance, sitting in one of the empty chairs with the pastor. “What is he doing?” “He wanted to be alone,” my mom tells me as she starts the car. “He’ll be fine,” Micah says, and I want to believe him. My mother cries quietly while she drives us back to the house. When we walk through the front door, she’s quick to kick off her heels, and I do the same. None of us know what to say as we walk into the kitchen. My mother pulls out a bottle of beer from the fridge and hands it to Micah before pouring herself a glass of wine. The two of them swallow down big gulps while I take a seat on one of the barstools at the island. “When are you guys heading out?” she asks Micah as she leans against the countertop. “About an hour.” Her lips lift in a melancholy grin for a brief moment before they drop again. “Are you okay, Mom?” “Death is never easy,” she says. “The lease on Sharon’s apartment is up next week. Kason isn’t in the right mind to be taking care of all that, so I’m going to have to get everything packed and out of there in the next few days. On top of that, I’m swamped at work.” She takes another sip of her wine as stress marks her face. Micah catches my eyes and takes notice of how bad I feel for my mother. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders drop a little when he suggests, “Maybe you should stay,” coming back to our earlier conversation. “Oh no, you don’t need to stay. That wasn’t what I was insinuating.” “It’s okay, Cheryl. We were actually discussing it this morning.” “Micah . . .”

He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Look, it isn’t ideal, but we had no idea about any of this when the trip was booked. And you’re right, it’s probably a good idea that you stay and help your mother out.” “Honestly, I’ll be fine.” “Mom, I can see how stressed you are.” She then looks to Micah, and he tells her, “Ady’s felt helpless since we came. When I think about it, this might be a good thing for her.” He then turns to me. “I can take care of everything on my end, as long as you trust me to pick out a place for us to live.” “But we should be doing this together.” “We should, but your mother needs you. And we can still do this together, maybe not how we intended, but we can video call, and I can show you the properties that way.” “Are you sure?” “I wouldn’t have said anything if I weren’t. And I would reschedule the trip, but you know I have meetings with sponsors that I can’t cancel.” I hesitate to agree. “Stop worrying. I promise, it’s fine.” I turn to my mom, and she shrugs. “If he insists.” “I insist,” he affirms. My mom walks around the island and gives Micah a hug. “Thank you.” Micah and I excuse ourselves to spend a little time alone before he has to drive back to Miami. He slips off his tie, and we crawl on top of the bed. With my head on his shoulder, I nuzzle in and kiss his neck. “Are you okay?” “I should be asking you that,” he responds. “I don’t like seeing you cry. I never have.” “Today was a hard day.” We speak no more about the funeral, Kason, or my mom. We simply spend the next hour in each other’s arms, enjoying this rare moment of peace. By the time he has to leave, my heart feels more settled than it did earlier. He grabs his bags, and I walk him out to his car. With a long kiss, he holds me close. “Hurry back, okay?” “Ten days,” he says before dropping his lips to mine one last time. “I’ll call you when I get back to the condo.” “I love you.” “Nowhere near as much as I love you, Guppy.” He then gets into the car. “I’m going to find us a kickass home, babe.” “I can’t wait.”

And with that, I watch him drive away.



“You’re a lucky girl,” my mom says when I walk back inside. “That was incredibly sweet of him to let you stay.” “I couldn’t leave you here to deal with everything on your own.” I walk over to my mom and give her a big hug, still feeling the pain from seeing her cry in the car. It’s rare that she shows vulnerability, so when it does happen, it’s always hard for me to take in. “Are you hungry at all?” “Not really,” I tell her. “Honestly, would you mind if I took a nap? I didn’t sleep well last night and after this morning, I’m completely drained.” “I think I might do the same thing.” Lying back down in bed, I tuck myself under the sheets that smell like Micah. It fills my lungs as Kason fills my head. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing. Picturing him alone and broken punctures me severely. No one should ever have to experience the pain he’s clearly suffering from. Worried, I take my phone from the nightstand and shoot him a text. Me: Are you okay?

I immediately kick myself and wish I could retract it, but it already sent. Of course he isn’t okay. Me: Ignore that last text. Just message me back when you get this.

I lay the phone back down, but it never buzzes with his reply. Staring out my window, the sun blazes brightly, much too cheerful for a day like this. A day of goodbye and mourning. A day of utter misery. It should be storming instead. I roll over and hug the pillow that Micah’s been sleeping on for the past week. A pillow that used to cradle Kason’s head as well, but it no longer holds his scent. The scent of the past that used to be my security. Funny how time changes things. How in a blink of

an eye the world can shift so abruptly, without any warning. I felt it four years ago when I woke up in that frat room. In a single moment, my world was flipped upside down. I remember praying harder than I had ever prayed before, bargaining with God to give me a do-over. Do-overs don’t exist, though. My path was altered, and that night will forever be cemented in the crux of who I am now. But it didn’t just change my life; it changed Kason’s as well. And even though I know how I pulled through it, I’m clueless as to how it shaped him moving forward. My heart tremors when I think back to Kason’s reaction when I told him Micah and I were getting married. To hear him say that he never unloved me cleaved me wide open. It awoke something inside me that I buried years ago, and now . . . all I can do is wonder where his heart is, even though it’s no longer mine to wonder about. Again, sleep fails me as I toss and turn, finally grabbing the remote to the television only to get lost in a random movie. Halfway through, Micah calls and we talk for about an hour while he drives until he hits Alligator Alley and his service cuts out. I then call Kason, but wind up talking to his voice mail. Eventually, the movie ends, the sun sets, and Micah calls again to let me know he made it back to the condo. We talk a little more, and when we hang up, I drag myself downstairs to find my mother sitting out on the veranda. “Did you get a good nap?” I take a seat in one of the chairs by the fire pit. “No. I couldn’t sleep.” “You’re still wearing your dress.” I look down at my black shift dress and then prop my bare feet onto the edge of the unlit brick pit. “Have you heard from Kason?” “No.” “I tried getting a hold of him, but he hasn’t called or texted me back.” “You want me to try?” she offers. “Do you think it would be a bad idea if I just drove over to his place to check in on him? It worries me that he’s all alone.” “If you feel that’s what you want to do, dear, I don’t see any harm.” I sit for a moment and contemplate going over there, and the more I think about it, the more my gut tells me I should. “Can I borrow your car?” “Keys are on the bar,” she says before I go inside and slip my heels back on. I give my hair a quick combing with my fingers before heading his way. Somberness hangs overhead as I make the short drive, and when I arrive at his building and take the elevator up, I hope that this time, I can offer him solace rather than more hurt. That thought alone makes me question if I should even be here at all. I stop in front of his door, listening to loud music coming from the other side. Shifting on my feet, I hesitate for a minute before finally knocking.

I wait, but no one answers, so I knock again, this time a little louder. Just as I’m dropping my hand back to my side, a girl’s laugh cuts through the music. My chest tightens, and something sparks to life inside me. What? I don’t know, but it doesn’t feel good. I take a step away from the door, and I’m about to walk away when the lock clicks and the door swings open. A woman, wearing nothing but her underwear, stilettos, and way too much makeup, stands in front of me. “Can I help you?” she says with alcohol on her breath and red lipstick on her lips. I stare in shock, locked in place while my heart screams at me to run back home, but I don’t. She then breaks out in laughter, asking, “Do you speak English?” “Who are you talking to?” another female voice questions, and when I look over the first girl’s shoulder, that’s when I realize these are prostitutes. I reach out and force the door open, and the second I step inside, I’m horrified by the scene in front of me. Beer bottles are scattered across the coffee table alongside a few unwrapped, used condoms. Kason sits on the couch, completely naked, while a woman with no bra grinds on his lap and shoves her breasts in his face, and I freak out. “What are you doing?” I mutter, unable to catch my voice, and when I see the girl who’s on top of Kason reach down and grip him in her hand, I snap. “Get off him!” “What’s your problem?” The other woman says as she closes the door, but I don’t even look back at her as I stalk across the room and grab ahold of the girl’s arm. “Stop touching him!” I pull her back and finally see Kason’s face. He’s half-lidded and drunk, slurring, “Adaline?” “What the hell?” the girl lashes as she slides off his lap. I reach down and pick up Kason’s shorts, slinging them at him with a scolding, “Put these on.” In a flash, I gather the few pieces of clothing lying at his feet and toss them at the girls. “Get out! Now!” They snap back at me, calling me a bitch, but all I can focus on is getting them out of here. They scramble, throwing on their outfits that barely cover them before stumbling on their platform heals as they scurry out. Once they’re gone, I lock the door and turn off the music. Kason is slung down low on the couch, and my stomach burns in disgust as I try to digest what I just saw. “What are you doing?” My words come out loud and bitter. “Were those hookers?” He doesn’t say a single word as he focuses in on me and leans forward with a beer bottle dangling from his hand. It’s only then that I realize he’s crying. My heart snaps, the bottle drops to the floor, and I’m next to him in a heartbeat. He falls into my arms, and I hold him as best I can, all the while terrified that this is what has become of his addiction.

His back trembles against my hands, and he grabs on to me. His agony pours out of him. It kills me to see him so broken. “Are you okay?” I ask, pulling back, and when he lifts his head, I wipe his tears with my hands. “Why are you here?” “You asked me to stay, so I stayed.” “You shouldn’t be here,” he says. “You don’t want to be a part of this. I’m too fucked up for you to even care.” “You can’t do this to yourself, Kason.” “What did you think was going to happen when you left me? That this would all just go away?” His words slap me right across the face. This is my fault. I left him to suffer alone. I just never knew that I’d be throwing him deep into the flames of his cravings. That it would ever get to this point. Not with Kason—not my Kason. I don’t want to believe that he’s this guy. “You were right,” he tells me. “I knew it back then, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself.” “Admit what?” “That I have this sick addiction. That I’m severely fucked up and a disgrace you never should’ve gotten yourself involved with.” “Don’t say that.” I take his face in my hands. “You are not a disgrace, Kason. Not to me.” “That’s bullshit, and you know it. There’s a reason why you never came back.” “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you,” I tell him, wiping away another tear as mine begin to fall. “But I’m here now.” “I can’t watch you with him.” “Micah left earlier today. It’s just me.” He pushes back and moves to stand, faltering off balance into the coffee table and knocking over a couple of empty bottles. I grab ahold of his arm and attempt to steady him. Without his shirt on, I can now see that he’s larger than he used to be. Broader and more defined with deep cut muscles. I remember that he used to run as a way to try to distract himself from giving in to his urges, so I wonder if this stems from that. “I can’t fucking think straight.” “Maybe you should lie down.” He doesn’t resist as I hold on to him and walk over to the door I assume leads to his bedroom. I’m right, and he stumbles straight out of my hands and flops facedown onto his large bed. I go into his bathroom and open a few drawers before eventually finding a box of medicine in the closet with his towels and linens. I dump a couple Tylenol in my hand

and grab him a glass of water, only to find he’s already passed out. Giving him a little nudge, he stirs enough to swallow the pills before dropping his head back down. Taking a step back, I watch him for a moment, sorting through the chaos of this evening. It’s disturbing to know how badly he’s still battling with himself. To see him resort to dirty prostitutes slays me wide open. I swear, the moment I put together who those girls were, I was overcome with an insatiable need to protect him in any way I could. That feeling still lingers. That I want to guard him and keep him safe from other risky behaviors he might be engaging in. It terrifies me to know who he’s been with, how many there have been, and what he’s been exposed to. It’s the same way I felt when we were together. I always tried my best and gave my all, but I never forced him to recognize that it was actually an issue. After what I just saw, there’s no way I can turn a blind eye to this. Stepping out of his room, I take a look around and begin picking up the mess. I toss all the bottles and then grab a wad of paper towels from the kitchen, gather up the condoms, and throw them in the garbage, shocked that this is even happening right now, that Kason is actually having sex with hookers. And the sick part is, there’s a dark shadow of jealousy in me. After everything is cleaned up, I go back into Kason’s room to check on him. He’s still asleep. I should probably go home, but I feel weird leaving him like this. Still wearing my black dress from the funeral, I question myself a few times before opening his dresser and pulling out a pair of pajama pants and an old T-shirt. I slip into his bathroom to change, and his clothes swallow my slight frame, but I make do as I head back out to the living room. There’s a throw blanket draped over one of the chairs, and I grab it before shutting off the lights and lying down on the couch. Unease captures me wholly as I lie here—here in Kason’s loft. Two weeks ago, I never would have considered that I’d cross paths with him, yet here I am, wearing his clothes while he sleeps in the next room. A part of me wants to cry, but I’m not even sure why. If only I could grasp on to one solid emotion and define it, I could possibly explain what it is I’m actually feeling. But I can’t. When it comes to Kason, I’ve always felt too much, too fast. With the weight of the week wearing me down, I surprise myself when I start to doze off. I don’t know how long I sleep before a light wakes me. Blinking a few times, I slowly sit up and see Kason rummaging through the fridge. From the dark, I watch him as he guzzles down a bottle of water. When it’s all gone, he tosses it in the trash and then looks up. His eyes latch on to mine, and it takes a moment for him to finally speak. “You’re still here.” “I can go if you—” “No,” he says. “It’s fine.” Coming out of the kitchen, he walks across the dark room and over to the couch. I scoot to make room for him, and he sits next to me with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. You should’ve never seen that.”

Wanting to finally be honest with him and tell him what I never felt I could when I was younger, I admit, “I’m scared for you. I always have been.” His eyes drop, and he notices that I’m wearing his clothes. His gaze lingers for a moment, and when he looks back up, he surprises me when he confesses, “I’m scared, too.” His admission strikes a chord in me, and I take his hand in mine. It’s a simple touch, yet it feels so complex. “Are we being honest here?” I give him a nod, and when I do, he falters, though he never takes his eyes off me. His look is transparent, and I’m amazed that I can still read his thoughts so well. He needs this —the clarity and what I could never say before, so I give him my approval to seek out what I had denied him. “It’s okay. You can ask.” His jaw clenches, and when his eyes water, I’m taken back to freshman year. “Tell me what happened. Please, just hand it over to me so I don’t have to question it anymore.” And for the first time, I give him what he deserved to always know but what I was too weak to give him. His hand tightens around mine, and I can see him bracing himself for what we both know but were too scared to acknowledge. “I was raped.” Three words shatter both our hearts. It was one thing to tell Micah, but to finally tell Kason what it was that ripped us apart, claws its way through our ribs and right down to our souls. We collapse into each other’s arms and cry for all we lost because of that night. I held on to that secret only for it to tear us apart. And I keep wondering what would’ve happened to us if he had known. “Why couldn’t you have told me? Why did you push me away?” His tears fall into my hair as he clutches me against him. “I was scared. And I was young. I wasn’t as strong as I am now.” He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “Was it that night you went out with your roommate? The day you moved in?” I nod against him and then give whatever I can to help him fill in the gaps. “There was this guy I ran into . . . he had helped my mom and me move in earlier that day. He must’ve slipped something into my drink that night, because I passed out and still to this day have no memory of what he did to me.” His hands thread through my hair and fall down my face as I feel every piece of his devastation, but I go on, needing him to know all of it. “When I woke the next morning, I was in a strange room and naked. At first I thought I had cheated on you, but my conscience kept telling me otherwise. I knew that I had been raped; I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know anything other than something really bad happened.” “God, baby, I am so sorry,” his voice bleeds, and he has me back in his arms. “I wanted to help you so badly, but I was scared. I was so fucking scared that if I pushed too

hard, you’d run away. But I knew. I knew in my gut that someone hurt you, and all I wanted was for you to come to me. To trust me and tell me. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done to help you.” “I was scared, too,” I reveal. “I knew how much you were dealing with, and how ugly your past was. It didn’t feel right to put this on you when you were battling your own wars.” More tears fall when I get the nerve to admit, “I didn’t think you’d be strong enough to help me through it.” “You didn’t give me a chance. You didn’t even let me try to fight for you.” “I’m sorry.” “We didn’t have to lose each other,” he says, drawing back again. “I felt so much guilt. I blamed myself, and I was so afraid that if you knew, you’d blame me too and never look at me the same way again.” He drags his thumbs under my eyes and collects my tears. “You always looked at me with so much pride, and I know how much it meant to you that I was good and wholesome. I couldn’t let you know how dirty I had become.” I weep through more tears that scald the tender skin of my cheeks. “I would never look at you that way. What that bastard did to you didn’t wash away your innocence. You are still, to this very day, the most beautiful and pure girl I’ve ever known. It just kills me that you felt that way. That you couldn’t trust me with this. That you wouldn’t let me take care of you.” “I couldn’t trust anyone with it. It took a really long time for me to admit it aloud.” “But your mom. The day I found out you left, she said she knew.” “She figured it out on her own, and I didn’t deny it,” I tell him. “I left, and everything got a lot worse before it got better.” His expression shifts, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand before saying, “Let me guess . . . it was Micah.” And suddenly, every choice I made feels like the wrong one. Guilt festers inside my chest as I start to realize that I might have made the biggest mistake of my life by not trusting Kason enough to tell him. Because seeing him right now, in this very moment, I have a hard time doubting his strength when it comes to me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper breathlessly and with so much remorse. Before I know it, he has my face cradled in his hands. He’s so close that our noses touch, and I forget the world beyond the two of us when his lips touch mine. He pulls me to him, not knowing that I’m already pushing into him. It’s a kiss laced with salt that seeps out from our deepest wounds, and I can taste it—taste the love we once shared, a love that was so intense, so promising, and so undeniably right. It was boundless and beautiful, and he’s right, I threw it all away. I touch his face, and his tears absorb into my palms as his taste in my mouth brings so many feelings back to life. The strongest one of all is guilt as it becomes a switchblade jabbing my gut. I rip my mouth from Kason’s. “I can’t,” I mutter as Micah filters through the visions of what Kason and I once

shared. “Why?” “You know why.” His brows furrow and then smooth when he looks me dead on. My stomach dip-dives, and then completely somersaults when he asks, “Do you still love me?” “You can’t do this.” “Why not?” “Because,” I say, my voice trembling in fear for where this is going. “Because I made a promise to another man.” “Micah,” he states, and when I nod, he counters, “You made a promise to me, too. That I was your forever. So, just be honest here. It’s the least I deserve.” He’s right. I did make him a promise. And I broke that promise when I walked away from him. So, in the eye of this storm I feel responsible for, I swallow hard against my word and my values and admit what I know I shouldn’t be admitting at all. “Yes. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”



Riddled with confusion. That’s how I’ve felt ever since Kason kissed me. And then there’s the guilt because I pressed my lips against his and kissed him right back. So many emotions surfaced, and in the midst of talking about our past, somehow, in some unexplainable way, it became our present. It was as if no time had elapsed and we were back to where we left off. But all it took was one slip of the mind for Micah to pop into my head, reminding me that I no longer belong to Kason, but him—the one I plan to spend the rest of my life with. I wanted to bail right then and there, but I couldn’t leave Kason with him being so distraught after finally hearing the truth from me. So, I stayed a while longer. We talked, we cried, and we held each other, but no amount of consoling would ever be enough to repair all the damage that has been done. We’re forever scarred by our past. Before dawn, I decided to leave despite his request for me to stay. The following day, I woke to a call from Micah to let me know he was about to board the first flight that would take him to our soon-to-be home. There was excitement in his voice, and I did my best to match it, to cover the fact that my stomach was in knots and the taste of Kason’s kiss was still on the tip of my tongue. The whole conversation felt like a lie. I debated just coming clean and telling him what had happened, but what was the point? It will never happen again. It was us tying the ends of what I left frayed. In a way, it felt right to soothe such heartache with a last kiss. My mother was at work all day, so I was stuck at the house, going crazy in my thoughts since my car is still in Miami. Thankfully, today is Sunday, and since my mom is home, we are going out for a light jog along Bayshore this morning. Tying on my trainers, I whip my hair back into a knot and head downstairs.

“You ready?” Mom asks from the kitchen. “Yeah, let’s go.” We head out the front door and down the circular drive which dumps right onto Bayshore. Crossing to the other side of the street that lines the water, we start off with a brisk walk before speeding up to a jog. The salt from the water charges my energy as I take in lungfulls. Seagulls squawk as they glide through the air, which is already dense with humidity. “Did Micah make it to San Diego yesterday?” my mom asks after we set a steady pace. “Yeah. I haven’t heard from him this morning, but we talked last night when he got to his hotel.” “Is he looking at properties today?” A couple of moms with jogging strollers pass, going in the opposite direction before I respond, “No. Today he and Zach meet with a new company he just signed a sponsorship deal with. Tomorrow he’ll start looking at a few properties with the realtor.” “How are you feeling about not being a part of that?” “I mean, a little conflicted, but I’m also happy that I get to spend some extra time with you before I move out there.” “I’m happy you’re here, too,” she says as she glances over to me. “Oh, and I was planning to go over to Sharon’s apartment later this week if you want to come help me. I’m going to need to pick up some packing boxes beforehand.” “Of course I’ll help. Is Kason going, too?” I ask with a twinge of reluctance about seeing him again. “I don’t know. I doubt it.” She wipes the sweat that’s already forming at her hairline. “Have you heard from him since you went over to see him the other evening?” “No.” She eyes me and asks curiously, “Did everything go okay?” I slow my pace next to her, and she pulls back, too, until we come to a complete stop. “What is it?” We step over to the ornate barrier and out of the way of the other people. Squinting against the large rising sun, I say, “I told him about the rape.” Her mouth opens in surprise. “How did he take it?” Leaning my hip against the stucco railing, I’m a bit winded when I tell her, “Not so well. I hate that I had to throw that on his shoulders the same day as the funeral, but he asked, and I didn’t feel right about keeping him in that dark any longer.” “And how are you feeling?” “Time has passed, and it’s easier for me to talk about, but it just brought up a lot

between us. It isn’t as if either one of us ever got any closure. And now looking back . . . I don’t know . . . I’ve just been questioning a lot of stuff.” She leans against the railing next to me. “I think it’s normal—the what-ifs. Wondering how everything would’ve panned out if you made different choices.” “Do you think it would have broken us if I had told him?” Her eyes meet mine as I seek out answers I know she can’t give me. There’s no way to predict that outcome, but she responds anyway. “Knowing where you’ve landed, would you have wanted it to work out?” Her question gives me pause. I think about not having Micah in my life. I would’ve never have fallen in love with him if things had worked out between Kason and me. And to stand here, thinking about which outcome I would’ve chosen is an awful thing to do. To pick who I would toss away in order to have the other. “I love Micah,” I defend. “I know you do. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to still carry a little bit of affection for an old love. Just don’t get that confused with the ever-present love you have now for Micah,” she says. “Because that man is wonderful, and I know how deeply you love him.” But this is what is tangling my heart, the fact that I’m wondering if the love I still feel for Kason is deeper. “And I’m not saying that Kason isn’t just as wonderful, but you aren’t the girl he knew four years ago. He’s changed, too.” “I’m not doubting anything,” I explain. “I believe in my choices, and I’m certain in my relationship with Micah.” I say the words even though there’s a silent whisper telling me they might not be entirely true. “It’s just awkward to be around him. I wish I could just break through this weird wall between us and get to know him again—as a friend,” I finish with a smirk. She returns my smile. “Then do that. Why don’t I call him and invite him over to the house today?” I give her a nod. “God, we haven’t done that in forever.” “I’m sure he’d really like it.” I lean into my mom, nudging my shoulder against hers, so very grateful that we can have these conversations. That through the years, we’ve only grown closer despite us living on opposite sides of the state. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s finish our run.”

My mother called Kason to invite him over and asked him what he was in the mood to eat for dinner. He requested sushi from Jackson’s Bistro, and when he texted her a little while

ago to let her know he was heading over, she left to go pick up the food. I’m now sitting here with jitters in my stomach, hoping she makes it back before he arrives. I’m anxious to be alone with him after what happened between us a couple of nights ago. When I hear the door from the garage open, I sigh in relief. But before she makes it into the kitchen with all the food, the front door opens, followed by, “Hey, Cheryl.” From the living room, I watch as Kason walks right into our house without a single knock. Obviously, he’s here enough that he’s comfortable just walking in. “In the kitchen,” she responds while pulling our dinner out from the bags. I catch his attention as he goes into the kitchen where my mother gives him a hug. When I join them, he finally greets, “Hey,” with apprehension. “Hey.” “Come on you two. Help me get everything on the table.” It’s easy to tell that he’s unsure about all this, but I don’t know if his unsurety is of the same magnitude as mine. We settle at the dining room table, and where Kason used to always sit next to me, he now takes a seat next to my mom. Looking between the two of them, they seem effortless with each other as they pass the various selections of sushi back and forth before handing them my way. The silence grows to an uncomfortable level as we start eating, and this is exactly what I wish would go away—the awkwardness. My mother looks my way, noticing that I’m the only one who hasn’t touched my food yet, and she’s quick to cut the tension, saying to Kason, “You wouldn’t believe what I did this morning. You’d be proud.” “What’s that?” “Ady convinced me to go running.” He glances at me before turning to her. “And you actually did it?” he says, unconvinced. “Is that so hard to believe?” She takes a sip of her drink when he looks to me, and as if there were no tension between us at all, says, “Is she making this shit up?” He’s able to get me to crack a smile, and before I pop a bite of sushi into my mouth, I defend my mom. “She ran all the way up and down Bayshore.” “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tried to get her to run with me? The woman has a million excuses.” “Throw me under the bus, why don’t you.” He shoots her a knowing look. “Is this you admitting to your cop-outs?” “I plead the fifth.” “Typical,” he says, bringing his eyes back to me. “Your mom is a hard-ass, you know?”

He says this with a smirk, and somewhere in the banter, I forget the tension and the air thins out, making it easier for me to talk. “The woman raised me. Trust me, I know.” “Wait a second. Is this you two ganging up on me?” “I’m not taking sides here,” I contend and then shove another piece of sushi in my mouth. “I thought you’d be proud of me.” Kason’s face softens. “I am proud. Are you going to keep it up?” She grins and picks up her chopsticks. “Probably not.” “Figures.” Now that the pressure of conversation has been lifted, I’m able to relax a little, and it reminds me of how it used to be with the three of us. So many times we’ve sat at this very table to share a meal. Birthdays and holidays—Kason was always here with me and my mom. And now, here we are, just like old times, except not. It may feel that way, but I know it isn’t that way. Too much has shifted. Too much has changed. My mom then addresses Kason with, “Do you know when you’ll be able to set your class schedule?” “Class schedule? I thought you graduated?” “I did,” he says. “I’m starting law school in August.” I stop mid-bite and lower my hand in astonishment for his accomplishment. I always knew his goals, and to see that he never gave up and that he actually made it happen—I’m so unbelievably proud of him. “You got into law school?” He gives me a nod, and I catch a glimpse of my mother’s smile from the corner of my eye. “Kason . . .” My words fail me for a moment, but I pick them back up, continuing, “I can’t believe it. I mean, I can, because it’s you. I’m just . . .” It’s now that I feel the smile on my lips. “I’m impressed.” The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, enough for me to see a flicker of pride in himself —pride that he is much deserving of. “He also got a promotion at the firm.” “Really?” He shrugs. “I swear, working for your mother borders on nepotism with all the preferential treatment.” “You’ve earned it,” she assures him. “So what’s the promotion?”

“I’m now a senior legal analyst, but I’ll be dropping down to part-time when classes start to focus on school.” My mother looks at Kason in admiration as he tells me this. “What about you?” he then asks. “What are you doing?” “I don’t know just yet. I wound up getting my degree in advertising, but with the move coming up, I’m going to wait until everything settles down before looking for a job.” “Why California?” I take a sip of my iced tea, fretting to bring up Micah. But if Kason and I are going to get to know each other, mentioning my fiancé is inevitable. Setting my glass down, my tone is a little weak when I tell him, “It’s closer to most of Micah’s events. Plus, it’s where his agent is based out of.” “What does he do?” he asks, his fingers gripping his chopsticks a little tighter. “He’s a professional surfer,” I tell him without elaborating at all because I can see this is a sore spot for him. I slip past Micah and go back to me, quickly adding, “I was thinking about going into media work, though. Seems like the perfect location to do so with all the studios out there. But I’m not going to rush into anything just yet.” We fall into conversation after that, talking about his goals of switching out of the defense side and over to the prosecution side. I ask questions, amazed by how far he’s come in his determination to make a better life for himself. Time passes as we continue to talk, and I don’t even realize that my mother has long ago cleared the table until I look up and notice she’s in the kitchen, tossing the containers away. “Mom, let me help you.” “Don’t worry about it,” she says, wagging her hand. “I’m just going to toss these plates into the dishwasher and send out a few emails before I head to bed. Do you mind?” I look at Kason, but he avoids making contact with me as he picks the label of the bottle of beer he’s been drinking. “No,” I respond. “That’s fine.” When she finishes up, she says her goodnight to Kason before excusing herself, leaving the two of us alone. The moment she’s out of the room, our eyes finally lock. I wait for him to speak, and I’m sure he’s doing the same with me. It’s an unexplainable feeling to have him back in this house with me, so I go with that thought. “Why does this feel so weird?” “Ever since you left, it’s felt weird.” He picks up the bottle and takes a sip. “Your mom never stopped inviting me over here for dinners,” he tells me. “At first, I didn’t want to come . . . it hurt too much knowing you wouldn’t be here. Then, one night, I showed up and we’ve made a habit of having dinner together at least once a week.” “What made you change your mind?”

He brings the bottle to his lips again, hesitating before taking a sip, and when he does, I see the strain in his throat as he swallows before admitting, “You did.” “Me?” “It was a hopeful thought that maybe you’d randomly show up.” The conversation teeters between us, and I don’t know what to say when he tells me this. A second later, my mom’s voice can be heard on a phone call, and in a way, it feels like an intrusion. “You want to go out back?” Kason asks when he stands from the table, and I give him a nod and follow him out to the veranda. He leads me down to the pool, and we both kick off our flip-flops before sitting along the edge and sinking our feet into the water. Kason tilts his head and looks up into the night sky as I watch him. Though his eyes are the same, there’s so much new about him. His frame is more muscular than what it was, the way he styles his rich brown hair is different, and the stubble he wears on his face seems perpetual. He’s no longer the nineteen-year-old guy I last saw him as, and a part of me, an undeniable part of me, regrets missing the time in between the change. And then my mind drifts to wonder what exactly happened to him during that time lost. I’m still shaken up after seeing him with those prostitutes the other night. Knowing that he’s drifting so far but not really knowing exactly how far scares me. When he turns and looks at me, we deadlock on each other for a moment. I stare into his green eyes—eyes that still sometimes find me in my dreams. And like a knife digging through my chest, I think about all the horrible things they’ve seen. “I’m worried about you.” Before I realize I’ve even spoken, the words are out of me. He doesn’t question me when I say this, and even though I always avoided this topic when we were younger, it doesn’t feel right to tiptoe around it any longer, so I ask, “Are you scared? Because I am.” “Of what?” “Of what I saw the other night.” It was that same night that he said what I had always known in my gut but had been too scared to confront because I never wanted to upset him. The second the thought crosses my mind, clarity reveals itself. This must’ve been exactly how he felt when he knew in his gut someone had hurt me. Both of us were terrified to acknowledge the one thing that haunted us the most, and we allowed those things to take power over our lives. But where he still suffers, I found help. “Can we talk about this?” He looks away from me, and I worry he’s shutting me out. “Have you ever told anyone else?” He shakes his head, and when he turns back to me there’s embarrassment in his features.

“Will you tell me how bad it is?” There’s a moment of hesitation before he confesses, “It’s bad.” I slip my hand into his and hold it, but his grip is loose on me. With his eyes adrift, he surprises me when he begins to speak. “You were the only thing worthy of me trying to control myself for. When I lost you, I no longer saw a point in trying to fight myself, so I just . . . I gave up, and I gave in.” Everything inside me sinks under the intense pressure of guilt, knowing that if I hadn’t left him, he might not have ever gotten to this point. But I did leave, and I was so wound up in my own mess that I never spent enough time thinking about what my absence would do to his addiction. Kason has always been needy. Not just for getting off, but also for affection. He clung to it—clung to me—as if he were starved. And he was, never getting the nurturing he needed from home. I force myself to shove all that down for now because I want to focus on him and not all of the questions to which there are no answers for. Dwelling in my regret won’t hurt him, but his actions will, and that’s what worries me the most. “Do you do that a lot?” I ask timidly. “You know, with girls like that?” His expression pains, and his hand finally tightens around mine—trembling really. I wish I could vanquish the turmoil that must be roiling inside of him. “I don’t want you to know this about me—the person I’ve become.” “But I want to know. Just like you wanted to know about me. You wanted me to tell this horrifically ugly thing despite all my fears, right?” He nods. “I did.” “This is me asking you to give me what I couldn’t give you.” Releasing a heavy breath, he wavers, and when I give his hand a reassuring squeeze, he opens up. “I do a lot of really fucked-up things like that. I’m not the same guy I was when we were together. And, yeah, I’m scared. I’m scared of a lot of things.” “Are you safe? Because all I can think about is—” I choke on my words when I consider all the diseases and illnesses he could easily get. “I can’t stomach the thought of anything bad happening to you.” He shifts and turns toward me, and when he takes my other hand in his, I pivot to face him as well when he stresses, “I’m safe. As safe as I can be, but I get tested, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The ache in my heart for Kason grows, and he sees it when my chin begins to quiver out of my control. “I don’t want this for you.” “I don’t, either,” he releases weakly. “But at the same time, I’m terrified to help myself.” “Why?” “Because I need it. Just like any addict would need their drug of choice I suppose.” “You aren’t happy, though. I know you aren’t. You can’t be.”

“It’s the one thing that does make me happy. It’s the highest high imaginable,” he tells me. “Followed by what?” “Followed by the lowest low imaginable. So low I wonder sometimes if it has the power to kill me because it hurts so bad.” I drop my head and blink back some of the most harrowing tears. To know this is how he feels is heartbreaking. When he first confessed this craving to me, I remember how much he feared it. He denied it—fervently. And now, here he is, completely defeated and accepting of what used to haunt him. “You have to do something about this, Kason,” I tell him, nearly begging. “You just have to.” “Why? For what?” He then lifts my chin, urging me to look at him. “For who?” I want to say for me, but I can’t. I belong to another man. One thing I do know is that when I got help, I had to do it for me, so I answer him with, “Do it for you, Kason.” “I’m not worth saving. If you only knew how sick and repulsive I’ve become, you’d —” “Stop.” “I’ve done disgusting things.” “I don’t care.” I push back because I can’t stand him talking about himself this way. “That isn’t who you are.” “It is.” “It doesn’t have to be.” “No?” he counters, pulling his hands from mine. “You think it’s that easy?” “I never said it was going to be easy. It wasn’t easy for me to get help, either. I felt worthless, too. I felt like I didn’t have any control over the situation. But I found out that I did. And I fought.” “You want me to fight?” “Yes,” I plead, pitching my voice in urgency. “And where do you fit into this? Or am I still on my own?” I grab his hand back. “I’m here, aren’t I?” “For now. But you’re leaving, and the difference between you and me is that you have someone. I have nothing.” “You have me, and I swear to you, that even though I’m moving, I will still be here for you in any way I can. I won’t turn away from you again.” He draws back, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can.” “Look at me,” I implore. “All I’m asking is that you think about it. That’s all. Because I know you. Deep down I think we both still know each other, and I’m certain there’s a

piece of you that wishes you could be free of this. Am I right?” Without having to think, he answers easily. “Yes.” “Will you promise me you’ll consider talking to someone and getting help?” After a beat of resistance, he nods. “I’ll think about it.” Hearing those four words, in a way, feels like a victory. This whole conversation does. The fact that we’re actually talking to each other instead of hiding behind our own fears. If only we could have done this sooner, we could’ve avoided so much self-deprecation. Maybe it took all the misery we’ve endured to get us to this point, and even though it’s years late, I’m holding out hope that Kason can find it in himself to at least try to seek some sort of treatment. Whatever it may be. “When did you become a hard-ass like your mom?” I laugh under my breath and he breaks a smile. “Is she really as tough on you as you make it seem?” “She’s brutal,” he teases. “You’re delusional.” The two of us chuckle lightly, and it’s crazy how we can jump from emotion to emotion with each other in a single night—in a timeless moment. I smile, and with a heart that beats a little easier, I tell him, “I’m glad you’re here.” “Are you?” I give him a nod, and when I do, a large bug flies into my face, startling me. Pinching my eyes closed, I blindly swat it away, the movement knocking me off balance and straight into the pool. Catching my breath, I wipe the water from my eyes to find Kason now standing, laughing at me. “I see your fear of bugs hasn’t changed,” he jokes. “That is so not funny.” “If you could see yourself right now, you’d be laughing, too.” I kick myself over to the wall and look up at Kason as he stares down at me. He’s wearing the biggest smile, and it’s just as beautiful as it used to be, setting off a swarm of something inside me, something that radiates through my bones. And when he offers me his hand to help me out of the pool, I grab ahold of it and jerk down, pulling him into the water with me.



I hit the water and her laughter fills the night. Fuck if it isn’t the most perfect sound I’ve ever heard, and the moment I take a step toward her with purposeful eyes, she squeals and kicks away from me. I move faster, though, banding my arms around her waist and tossing her into the air. She’s so light that she flies high, coming down with a wild splash. “You’re gonna get it, Stratton,” she threatens, and it’s so fucking cute that she attempts to feign seriousness through her giggles. “You sure about that?” She pops out of the water, reaching for my head to dunk, but I don’t budge. Instead, I grab her and toss her over my shoulder. More laughing and more smiling as I wade over to the steps and climb out of the pool. “Kason, don’t you dare!” Her feet kick, and her hands grasp on to my sides as I carry her over to the deep end. She starts begging for mercy, and when I grab her hips to send her back in the water, she finds my weakness, knowing all-too-well where my ticklish spot is. Going for my ribs, she feathers her fingers while I’m mid-throw. I twist against her touch, fall off balance, and she takes me down with her, quickly swimming away from me. My chest rumbles with laughter as I watch her escape to the opposite side of the pool, but as soon as she turns against the wall to face me, the rumbling fades into a slow burn. The pool reflects against her face, flickering light across her smooth skin as beads of water drip down. I go still, my heart hammering in slow, steady beats as I take her in. God, she’s so beautiful. “You give up?” she taunts, and I smirk at her feistiness. “Not a chance.” Her golden hair is slicked back, and I can still remember how it felt to slip my fingers through it. Everything about her floods my system, and I fucking hate that she’s no longer

mine to touch and that we have this invisible wall between us, keeping us from the connection we once had. I watch as her smile fades along with mine, and the urge to go closer gnaws at me, but I don’t want to ruin this time she’s giving me. “Come on,” she says, pushing off the wall and swimming over to the shallow end. I follow, and can’t help myself from staring as she gets out of the water. Her clothes cling to her body, and water drips down her legs to her bare feet. She chuckles lightly as she looks down at herself before pinching the hem of her top and peeling it away from her skin. “Oh my god.” “I blame you,” I joke when I step out of the pool. Reaching back, I pull my T-shirt off so I can wring it out. “I’ll go get some towels.” She runs inside, and it doesn’t take her long to return. While she dries herself the best she can, I wrap a towel around my waist before tucking my hand through the slit and unbuttoning my shorts. She catches my movements, and her eyes widen. “What are you doing?” “I don’t need chaffing going on.” She rolls her eyes when my shorts drop heavily to my feet, and I can’t help but laugh when I reach beneath the towel and shove down my boxer briefs. She shakes her head, saying, “I’m going to change. Go toss your clothes in the drier.” Watching her squirm amuses me. I can still recall her acting the same way when we first started dating. That girl was innocent beyond my comprehension. Every touch, every kiss, every step I made to move closer to her had her blushing with uncertainty and selfconsciousness. Those thoughts are quickly replaced with how repulsed she became when we’d be intimate before everything ended between us. I could see she was deteriorating before my eyes, but I couldn’t understand why. The last time we made love, her body was so tense, trembling even, and she was crying. If only I had known at that point that someone had hurt her, I would’ve never allowed her to force herself with me. And I know she only did it to take care of me and this fucked-up addiction of mine. To this day, I feel like the biggest piece of shit for all the times we were together like that, even more so now that I know for sure what had happened to her. Tossing my clothes into the drier, I close the door and turn it on. I wait a handful of minutes for her to come back down, but she never does. When I walk over to the stairs and look up, I see her bedroom door is open. Tightening the towel around my waist, I head up to her room but stop shy of her door when I hear her voice. “Everything’s fine. Mom and I had dinner at the house, and I’m about to lie down. How were your meetings?” Fucking Micah. Leaning against the wall, I stay put as I listen to her side of the conversation.

“What time do you meet with the realtor tomorrow?” There’s a short pause before she says, “I’ll be around. Just video chat me if you feel it’s a place worth considering. No need to do it if you don’t like the property.” My ribs may snap from how tightly they’re constricting in my chest. That motherfucker always had a thing for Adaline, and to know that he’s had her since she left me is a bitter-ass pill for me to choke on. From the moment she told me about the two of them, it’s all I can do not to think about them together. Him helping her heal from what happened to her when it should’ve been me. Him holding her, wiping her tears, kissing her, touching her, fucking her—I want to kill that asshole. But then, in a very messed up way, I’m grateful that she wasn’t alone to fall apart completely. That she had someone to help her. I just wish it hadn’t been Micah—or any man for that matter. “I love you, too,” she says, and I swear those words claw right through me, filling my veins with so much bitterness. My jaw clenches, and I bite down hard, swallowing back all the anger and jealousy that’s ripping through me. Taking a slow, deep breath, I step into her doorway to find her dressed in a pair of pajamas as she looks out of her bedroom window. When I walk in, she turns around. Her eyes have lost the liveliness from earlier, and I move across the room, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. She turns back to the window that overlooks the pool, and she releases a heavy sigh. “What are you thinking about?” She fights a smile as it grows bashfully when she turns to face me, leaning against the side of the window. “I totally used to spy on you,” she confesses before she lets go of an embarrassing giggle. “You spied on me?” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and then nods. “I left school after my first day, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the cute boy I had met. I was up here unpacking when I noticed someone cleaning the pool. When I realized it was you, I hid behind these shutters and watched.” “Did you do that a lot?” She blushes with a coy, “Yeah.” “That’s creepy,” I tease, and she shakes her head at me. “It’s okay. I used to watch you, too.” “You did?” “Look at you. How could I not?” She blinks slowly and drops her head, and when I reach out my hand, she takes it and sits next to me on the bed. She keeps her hand in mine and simply lets me hold it. I want to hold so much more, though. The feeling to have her closer is powerful, but knowing I can’t have her is like a garrote around my throat. It’s the same feeling I get every time I walk into this very room. “I’ve sat on this bed a lot since you’ve been gone.” She looks at me when I say this,

and she moves to slip her fingers between mine, holding my hand more firmly in hers. “When I would come over to have dinner with your mom, I’d come up here afterward. As weak as it sounds, I just needed to smell your scent in this room. It was the only way I could be close to you.” Her face slowly pains when I tell her this, and when her eyes rim with sadness, I slide my other hand along her cheek and back into her hair, holding her in my palm. She doesn’t flinch from the touch, and I’m wondering if she needs it as badly as I do. “Why is this so hard?” “It doesn’t have to be,” I tell her. She tilts her head into my hand and stares into my eyes. There’s question in her irises —questions I want to give her answers to, but I don’t want to cross the line with her. I can see it, though—the dilemma in her heart. She wears her emotions in a way I’ve always been able to read. “Can I ask you something?” She nods. “I know I have no right to be asking this, but . . . will you just let me hold you?” She nods again, surprising me when she doesn’t come to me, but instead, lies down. I hesitate for a slight moment before lying next to her and gathering her in my arms. She comes freely, resting her head on my chest where my heart thunders from beneath the surface. I know she can hear it, feel it, touch it. She’s so warm against me, and when I tuck her under my chin, I feel wetness from a teardrop when it falls onto my chest. It burns into my skin, creating yet another scar of my love for her. Even though she broke my heart and left me in cold silence, I never stopped wanting her. This girl, she was the one thing that truly ever gave me purpose. She made my world feel infinite. I’ve been lost without her. It kills me to have her back but not have her back. That time has pushed us to a place where life has transitioned. Yet, here I am— stuck—unable to move on like everyone else. How can I? She’s fermented in my veins. How is my heart supposed to taste anything but her when she’s in my blood? We lie here as seconds fade into minutes that fade into dying wishes as we breathe each other’s deepest secrets that not even we can deny. I feel it in her bones as I hold them in my arms—she’s filled with confliction. When I drag my fingers through her hair, I let go of restraint long enough to slip on the words that have been tormenting me. “Tell me we have a better ending than this.” Her body tenses in my hold, but I don’t regret saying it. Drawing back, she gives me a worrisome look, but I keep my eyes steady on her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She shakes her head, stalling in her fear, but I want her to acknowledge it and give it life. Her breathing shallows, and she finally admits, “I miss you, and it feels wrong.” She then sits up, abandoning my arms. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” I then sit up next to her. “Doing what?” “Lying in bed together. Holding each other . . . all of this. It just confuses me.” “That’s because it’s unfinished,” I tell her. “We’re unfinished.” “But we are finished.” She drops her head and looks at the ring on her finger. “I’m getting married, Kason.” “Then what are you doing in my arms?” She stands from the bed and steps away from me before stopping and turning back around. Lifting her palms up, she holds them there for a second before dropping them back to her sides. “I don’t know. I don’t know because when I’m around you, everything gets blurry, and I . . . I don’t know what we’re doing.” “What do you want?” “Honestly?” Getting off the bed, I readjust the towel, securing it around me as I step over to her. “Yes, Adaline. Honestly . . . what do you want?” She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I stand here and watch her waver as she stares at me in a silent plea, but I can’t answer this for her. All I can do is take her small hand and press it against the center of my chest. “You feel that?” Her eyes tell me she does. “You might have run away, but you never left me,” I tell her as she holds my heart in the palm of her hand. “Every day, every week, every month, every year I’ve kept you in the most sacred and honest place inside of me.” “Kason . . .” “I would’ve given up forever just to touch you again.” I let go of her hand, and she’s slow to pull it away from me, but when she does, she replaces it with her head. Her arms circle around me, and I hug her close, but all too soon, she steps back. Keeping her eyes away from me, she says, “Maybe you should go.” With two steps forward, I take the sides of her face in my hands and press my lips against the top of her head before walking out.



“Can you see this view, babe?” “I can. It’s amazing,” I tell Micah as he stands out on the balcony of the property he’s at. He walks back inside and shows me the kitchen as we continue to video chat. This is the second day he’s been looking at places for us to live. I spent all day yesterday here at home as he showed me property after property, all the while having a sinking feeling in my stomach. The same feeling that’s with me now. It never leaves me and only grows stronger when Micah and I talk—when he shows me these amazing homes where we can start our life together while Kason skates around in the back of my head. He flips the camera around so that I can see him. “So, what do you think of this one?” “It’s great.” He smiles. “You say that about all of them.” “That’s because they all seem perfect. Seriously, I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose.” In reality, I’ve been having a hard time focusing on these places when it’s all I can do to act normal—to act like my heart isn’t treading in dangerous waters. It was only a week ago that I was so certain with the direction my life is heading. Now everything is getting mixed up. When I’m with Kason, he’s all I can think about. I go back and forth with the constant what-ifs, but it’s more than just that. It’s the feeling that erupts inside me when he smiles, when I hear his voice, when I feel his touch. I know it’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop myself from reacting to him. It’s beyond my control, and knowing that terrifies me because I can’t shut it off. And then I ask myself: if I could shut it off, would I? “Well, this is the last place we’re looking at today. I have to meet with Zach later, and then I’ll be tied up with work stuff for the next few days.” “How many more places do you have left to see?”

He looks away from the camera before Jeff, the realtor, leans in and says, “A lot. There’s so much available right now. We will be checking out more next week if you decide you don’t want to make an offer on any that you’ve seen already.” Micah comes back to the screen. “So, what do you think? Should we keep searching?” I hesitate. How can I make a huge decision like this when I feel the way I do? “Yeah, I think we should look at a few more.” “Is that Micah?” my mom asks when she comes into the living room. “Hold on,” I tell him. “Mom wants to say hi.” She takes the phone from my hand and taps my legs for me to sit up so she can take a seat next to me. I listen to them as she asks questions about all the places the realtor has shown him and he fills her in on all the details. When Micah has to go, she says goodbye before handing the phone back to me. “I have to run, but I’m going to have Jeff email you the MLS listings for everything he’s shown us so that you can go over them.” “Sounds good.” “I’ll talk to you later,” he says. “I love you.” “Love you, too.” I disconnect the call and look to my mom, asking, “You ready to go?” “We’re going to have to push it to tomorrow.” We are supposed to be heading over to Sharon’s apartment and have already picked up a bunch of boxes. “While you were talking to Micah, the office called, and I have to go in.” “You’re kidding,” I sulk. “I’m sorry, dear. But with Kason taking time off from work, things are starting to fall behind.” “No, I understand. I’m just going a little stir crazy without a car.” “Then take mine. You can drop me off, and when I’m ready to leave, I’ll call you.” “No thanks. You didn’t even get home last night until after I was already asleep,” I tell her. “It’s fine. I think I might spend the day lying out by the pool.” “It’s a rough life you live,” she teases as she stands. “And on that note, I’m going to work.” “Bye, Mom.” “If you need anything, call me.” After she leaves, I make myself a sandwich for lunch and eat before turning on the television. Flipping through the channels to find something worthwhile to watch, I give up when my phone chimes with a text from Kason. I haven’t talked to him since he was over here a couple of nights ago. The night he made it clear that he wasn’t ready for us to be over. I had already been battling myself with questions, and that night made everything

even more chaotic. My tummy is already frazzled before I even open the text to read it. Kason: Your mom just called to check in. That woman refuses to let me come into work, and with school being out, I’m going crazy with boredom.

It’s clear he’s trying to break the tension, so I don’t hesitate to respond. Me: Tell me about it. She left me here to go to the office when we had plans for the day. Kason: What were you guys going to do?

I debate lying to avoid possibly upsetting him, but it doesn’t feel right, so I go ahead with the truth. Me: I was going to help her pack up your mom’s apartment.

I hit send and wait nervously, hoping I didn’t just make a mistake by telling him. Kason: You two don’t have to do that. I can take care of it. Me: She just wants to make it easier on you. Kason: Maybe that’s what I’ll do today.

When I think about him alone in that apartment, packing his mother’s belongings, and how awful that’s going to be on him, I offer, Me: I can go with you. Kason: You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.

I know that’s a lie. How can he even expect me to believe that? Me: I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You shouldn’t have to do this alone. Plus, my mom and I already have all the boxes in our garage. Kason: Are you sure? Me: I’m sure. Kason: You want to meet me over there? Me: I don’t have a car. Micah took it when he went back to Miami. Kason: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

With the way we left everything the other night, I’m anxious to see him again. It’s a sensation that swirls in my stomach as I wait for him to show up, and when he does, those swirls break away into nervous flutters. If he’s nervous, too, he doesn’t show it at all when he strides into the foyer in a slightly fitted T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of flip-flops. “When did you stop knocking?” I quip when I get off the couch. “When your mom gave me this,” he says with a cocky smile, holding up a key to the house that’s on the same ring as his others. “Come on. The boxes are out in the garage.” He follows me out, and when I open the garage door to start loading them into his car, I foolishly expect to see his old Camaro. Instead, there’s a white SUV sitting in the driveway. “What happened to the Camaro?”

“It died a tragic death on the Howard Franklin Bridge,” he tells me when he clicks his key fob to open the back hatch. “Your mom helped me with the down payment on this.” I grab a few boxes and slide them into the back of the SUV. “Is there anything my mom won’t do for you?” “I sense a little jealousy.” “Jealous?” I question as I raise my brows and perch my hands on my hips. “Of what?” He shoves an armful of boxes in and chuckles at my phony annoyance. “Her apparent fondness of me. That perhaps I’m her favorite now.” My jaw drops. “That’s insane. I’ve always been her favorite and everyone knows that.” “If you say so.” He reaches up and closes the hatch. “Swallow that envy and hop in.” I drop my hands from my hips and he further teases me with a wink when he opens the passenger door for me. “You’re not funny,” I sneer. “Then why can’t you stop smiling at me?” He shuts the door before I can respond, and when he hops in behind the wheel, the anticipation I felt while I waited for him to get here settles into familiar ease. I’m at ease as he pulls away from the house and begins driving north. I can still remember how nervous he was the first time he brought me to his apartment. He was so scared I was going to judge him when I finally saw how he lived, knowing it was the polar opposite of my lifestyle. But it only made me love him more—the fact that he was opening up and trusting me with something he kept hidden from everyone else. I never told him exactly how that day made me feel, so when he pulls off the interstate and we draw closer to the apartment, I decide to tell him what I didn’t that day. “Do you remember the first time you brought me here?” I start, and when he pulls up to a red light, he looks at me. “I didn’t tell you then, but . . . it made me feel extremely special.” “I thought you’d take one look and be done with me,” he says, and I’ll never forget all the insecurities he used to battle with back then. The light turns green, and he continues to drive until he’s turning into the complex and right back into his old parking spot. It’s surreal to be back here—back in the center of my past. The two of us unload the boxes and head up the stairs. When he unlocks the door and I step in, I take a look around to find that nothing has changed since I was last here. Everything is exactly how I remember it. It’s chilling to see that with so much change, this still remains. Kason pulls the boxes from under my arm, distracting me from my daze. He takes them over to the couch and starts taping a few up so we can start packing. I go to help him and notice he’s gone quiet, which doesn’t surprise me. “Have you been here since she . . .”

He shakes his head as he continues to assemble the boxes, keeping his eyes on the task at hand. This has to be excruciating for him, and I’m regretting even telling him about coming here. “We don’t have to do this.” He grabs a box, tosses it to me, and avoids my words when he says, “Where should we start?” I look into his eyes and his expression tenses. “Don’t do that,” he tells me. “Let’s just get this done.” He grabs a couple of boxes, walks over to the small kitchen area, and sets them on the counter. “You want to start in here, and I’ll work on her room?” “Okay,” I murmur weakly, my chest tighter than it was before I saw his mood completely change as soon as we got here. I open a cabinet, and when I reach for a stack of plates, I peek over my shoulder to see him walking into his mother’s bedroom. I take a sheet of packing paper and begin wrapping the old dishes and filling the boxes. Each second passes in dreadful silence. When I tell myself to stop worrying so much about Kason, the only other place my mind can go to is all the memories we’ve shared in this small apartment. I used to love spending time together here instead of at my house. It felt as if we were in our own little private world, far from where anyone could find us. Our secret place where all that mattered was the two of us and no one else. When all my boxes are filled, I walk over to the couch to put a few more together when I look up at the door to Kason’s old room. I walk over and glance over my shoulder into Sharon’s room. I don’t see Kason, and assume he must be in her closet when I twist the knob and step in. His room is empty. The mattress where Kason first touched me in the most loving way a person could be touched is gone. I opened myself up to him in this very room, exploring each other in the most intimate ways. Endless amounts of love and laughter were shared within these four walls, and to see it so empty makes me feel empty, too. I go back to the kitchen with a paperweight inside my chest and continue to pack. I busy myself as I reminisce on some of the happiest moments of my life. They fade in and out, leaving their marks like tattoos on my soul, forever branding me with the reminder that this happened. That these memories are real, and they have life to them. A life I thought would last forever, but it severed all too soon. We were robbed of our time, and before I knew it, we were finished. “We’re unfinished.” I tape another box closed as his words echo in my head. I take the box from the counter and stack it with the others that are on the floor. I look at my progress and worry when I check the time to realize that two hours have passed and I haven’t heard a sound from Kason. He went in with only one box and hasn’t come out once to get more. I walk into his mother’s room and find him sitting on the floor of her closet with his

back facing me. He’s holding a pile of stuff in his hands, and when I cautiously step around him, he looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. I kneel in front of him and find he’s holding a bunch of childhood papers. “She saved these,” he says, his voice strained and hoarse. “There are boxes full.” To his side are opened boxes filled with spelling papers and art projects he must’ve done when he was a little boy. Sitting next to him is a piece of yellow construction paper with dried pieces of pasta glued down to spell his name. “I used to think she didn’t care about me because she was never around,” he tells me. “I was too young to understand why she was always gone, and at the time, I thought she didn’t love me. But she kept everything.” He holds out the papers for me to take, and when I do, I quietly flip through them— each math worksheet, handwriting page, and art project. I stop when I come across his small painted handprint that he turned into a fish. Running my finger along his tiny ones, my heart breaks for the little kid inside him that’s still hurting. “It feels as if she’s going to come home from work any minute.” In my most gentle tone, I offer, “I’m sure it’s going to feel that way for a while.” “I used to feel the same about you, too. That any minute my phone would ring and you’d be on the other end, and I’d realize that it was all just a bad dream.” I set the stack of papers aside, and when I take his hand, I reveal, “I also felt it. That one day I would wake up and the nightmare would be over.” I choke up and press my lips together to keep myself from breaking down. He reaches out his hand and touches the side of my face. “I would’ve done anything to be in that nightmare with you just so you wouldn’t have had to be alone.” I believe him when he says this, wishing I could’ve been strong enough to tell him back then. If only I would’ve given him a chance . . . I look into his eyes that bear so much honesty. And like a magnet pulling my soul to its truth, I kiss him. The moment my lips touch his and he pulls me to him, I lose all my senses and drown in my affinity for this man. An affinity I slammed the door on years ago, only to be reminded that it never left the second I came back and saw him. Straddling my legs across his lap, I hold his face in my hands as he bands his arms firmly around me. Neither of us hesitate as we push into the kiss, and when he opens my mouth with his, our tongues touch, sending a frisson of neediness up my spine. One drop of him on my taste buds is all it takes for me to melt completely into him. My body slacks in his embrace, which is so strong and so solid around me that I know in my heart he could’ve carried me through my storm if only I had given him the chance. My hands lose themselves in his hair, and he shifts to his side, laying us on the floor. Our legs tangle, and I’m breathless when his lips leave mine, dragging down my cheek and along my neck. He kisses my veins, and I whisper, “I’m so sorry.” Kason pulls away and, with eyes so beautiful, stares down at me. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” I whisper as I run my hand over the stubble on his face. “I was

so confused. I was scared . . . and ashamed, and all I wanted to do was run.” Honesty weighs heavily on my bones as I tell him this while he quietly listens to me. “I didn’t want to believe what had happened to me, and I didn’t want you to know. I couldn’t hurt you like that. So, I ran.” “I would’ve run with you, if only you would have let me.” “I didn’t feel worthy of you.” His brows cinch together in question when I say this, and I add, “I blamed myself for what happened to me . . . I still do.” I swallow a piece of misery lodged in my throat. “I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have spoken to that guy or given him my time, but I did.” He shakes his head. “That’s bullshit.” He runs the backs of his fingers along my cheek. “I don’t know how you’ve built this up in your head that you think you hold any amount of responsibility for what happened, but you don’t,” he insists. “How do you know?” “Because I know you. But I get it. I understand the burden of blame, the feeling that you’re the one at fault, that somehow you were the cause.” He takes a slow blink and wavers before saying, “To this day, I still wonder what I did to deserve what happened to me as a kid.” “You did nothing.” I’m quick to say it, but he’s even quicker to return it, stating, “And neither did you. Yet, we still blame ourselves when we know we shouldn’t. That’s what these people have done to us, and only we can understand it because we’ve been through it.” His face swims into iridescence as he proves us to be more alike than what I thought. And through this unfathomable pain, I manage to smile because I finally found someone who understands exactly how I feel. But he was always here. I ran away from the very person I should’ve been running to. Nobody could possibly understand me like Kason does because we reflect a shared trauma that we’ll forever be marked by. I was always so worried that, if he knew, he’d look at me as something vile and horrific, but he feels the same way about his own past, and yet, he gave me the truth to his disgust and put all of his trust in me that I would love him regardless. I should’ve trusted him. But I couldn’t because I couldn’t get past my own fears that kept me imprisoned for far too long. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He leans down, resting his forehead against me, and with lips that brush against mine, he says, “Maybe this is our chance to begin again.”



Kason holds my hand as he drives me back to my mom’s house, and I let him because I need the comfort his touch provides. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have any answers for anything. All I do know is that there is a force beyond my control pulling me toward Kason. A force that’s impossible to ignore, and even though I’m wrong for doing what I’m doing, I feel powerless when I’m around him. He pulls around the circular drive and shifts the car into park. Leaning my head back against the seat, I look at him, feeling so weak and overwhelmed. His hand slips behind my neck, and I go to him freely, allowing him to kiss me. Moving slowly, we kiss a few times before falling away from each other. I can tell he wants to say something, but he doesn’t speak, and neither do I. But words seem unnecessary when we already know what the other is thinking. We’re nothing more than broken hearts wishing for salvation in this monumental wave of confusion. Without saying a word, I slip my hand out of his and get out of the car. I watch as he drives away, and the moment he’s gone and I’m all alone, I’m overcome with guilt. It eats away at me for the rest of the evening and into the following day. I don’t say much to my mom when I see her in the morning before she heads off to work. And when Micah calls to check in, I let it go to voice mail. The only person I do respond to is Kason when he texts me in the afternoon while I’m lying out by the pool. Kason: Thank you for coming with me yesterday. Me: Thank you for letting me.

He doesn’t text back, and something inside me deflates. I set the phone down, and I’m in the middle of chastising my behavior when the phone chimes. Kason: I can’t stop thinking about you.

His single text evaporates my heavy conscience, giving me something else to focus my energy on. Something that gives birth to a myriad of butterflies in my stomach. Me: I can’t stop thinking about you, either. But I’m so confused.

Kason: I know you are. Me: This isn’t fair. Kason: To who? Me: To any of us.

Leaving my phone on the lounge chair, I jump into the water to cool off my skin that’s been baking under the ripe sun before toweling off and heading back inside. After taking a shower to rinse off the chlorine, I pick up my phone to see that Micah tried calling again. I debate calling him back, but the thought alone yanks my gut into a grim knot. There’s so much I can’t say to him, and I don’t want to lie. He’s too good for that crap, but I can’t be honest, either. Because, again, he’s too good for me to hurt him like that. I honestly don’t even know what to say when I don’t even know where my heart lies anymore. Micah’s ring adorns my finger. He’s given me a love that has been a constant in my life, a love that’s so amazing and so easy that I’ve never had to question it. It built me back up when I was in pieces and gave me hope. I swear Micah’s love is what saved me. So why am I doubting it? Why am I allowing something else to get in its way? I’m supposed to be getting married; yet, I spent yesterday afternoon kissing my exboyfriend. My phone chimes. Micah: Tried calling a few times. Is everything okay?

I rake my hands through my hair. What on earth am I doing? All these secrets begin to pile up, and I need to get out from under them just so I can breathe. Micah: ???

I quickly turn my phone off, toss it on to the coffee table, and drop my head into my hands with a frustrating groan. “Is everything okay?” I look up to find my mother standing a few feet away from me. “What are you doing home so early? I didn’t even hear you come in.” She dodges my question, asking again. “Is everything okay with you?” I open my mouth to brush her off and tell her everything is fine, but the words catch on the truth and get tangled in my throat. When I don’t respond, she comes closer and takes a seat next to me. “Honey?” She drops her hand to my knee, and if there were anyone who could give me the best advice, there’s no doubt it would be her, so I exhale deeply and confess, “I’m really

confused, Mom.” “About what?” “About Micah.” I lean back and stare blindly out the windows. “I had everything planned out. I was so certain . . . and now . . . I don’t know.” “Did you guys get into an argument or something?” “No. Nothing like that. It’s just . . .” She gives my knee a squeeze, and when I look at her, she questions gently, “Does this have something to do with Kason?” Fear of admitting the truth presses down on my shoulders, but I know that no matter what I say, my words will be safe with her. But trepidation remains as I give her a timid nod. Her eyes soften toward me and her head tilts to the side. “Did something happen between the two of you?” She asks me this, but I’m not ready to face this obstacle yet. Not with her. It’s one thing to acknowledge it with Kason, but to anyone else . . . “I don’t really want to talk about it.” “That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” “I’m just confused,” I tell her. “I thought I knew what I wanted, but I never expected to feel this way about someone else.” I look down at my ring and then back to her. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” She shifts and faces me straight on. “Don’t rush this,” she says with unquestionable seriousness. “Whatever is going on, whatever you are feeling right now, I think it’s important that you take some time to figure out exactly why it is you’re feeling this way. Marriage is a big deal, and I know you understand that. But sometimes we can become blinded by the fairy tale. And if there’s something inside you that is making you question yourself, then you need to listen to it before you commit your life to Micah.” “I’m so conflicted. I mean Micah is so good, and he’s done nothing wrong. He’s perfect in every way. I shouldn’t even be questioning this.” “It’s okay to question and to doubt. It doesn’t make you a bad person, Ady. It makes you smart. It tells me that you aren’t taking this commitment lightly,” she assures. “And you’re right, Micah is good. He’s a wonderful man, but that doesn’t mean that you should marry him just because you can’t find faults in him. Marriage isn’t about finding the one with the most flawless qualities. Because even if you had the perfect man standing in front of you, if your heart is calling you elsewhere, it’s never going to last.” “I don’t want to hurt anyone. And at this point, I feel like no matter what I do, someone’s going to get hurt.” “You can’t think about that. In situations like this, you have to do what’s best for you,” she stresses. “You can’t make decisions like this based on other people’s feelings. You need to be thinking about what you want, what you need, and how you feel.” She takes a

pause before asking, “Have you talked to Micah about any of this?” I shake my head. “I’ve been scared to because I don’t want to lie to him.” “No one is saying you have to lie, but you could at least tell him that you’re scared. I mean, this is a big commitment, and I think he would be understanding without you having to go into too much detail. But I do think he has a right to know how you’re feeling.” I drop my head as the weight of this situation settles in the pit of my stomach. “You can’t avoid this, dear. You have to take your time and figure this out. You can’t go into a marriage with doubts. And as difficult as it might be, you can’t keep Micah in the dark, either.” “I know. But what do I say?” “I can’t tell you what to say because I’m not in your heart. You admit this has something to do with Kason, but I don’t know the depths of it. What you two have shared in the past, and whatever is going on now, that’s something only the two of you will ever truly understand. And I’m not even saying that he needs to know that Kason is a part of it at all. But like I said, he has the right to know that you’re starting to feel nervous.” All I can think about is Micah and how good he is. How loving he is. Being with him is so easy, and I know we’d go through life with minimal worries. And then there’s Kason. And yeah, he comes with baggage, he comes with risk, but he also comes with a passion that’s fierce and relentless. It’s a force that has always drawn me to him in a way I can’t deny. But that tug, that pull, that irrefutable draw, I don’t feel that with Micah, which scares me to death. “Look,” she says, taking my hands in hers. “You don’t want to go into a marriage wondering if you’re making a mistake. And if your heart is being pulled toward another man, you have to figure this out.” “I know,” I say on a sigh and let my shoulders fall a bit. “I’m not going to lie and tell you that everything will be okay, because you’re about to get into a very messy situation, so just be prepared. But no matter what, I have your back. I will always be on your side, no matter what.” “So what do I do now?” “Talk to Micah. And if you are not one hundred percent sure you want to marry him, then you need to take some time. There’s no rush here,” she tells me. “But you need to do what’s best for you.” I think about how invested she is in Micah and I as a couple and how much she likes him. The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies when I think about the chance of all that going away. But then I sway over to Kason. Could I really walk away from him? Could I hurt him all over again? “I’m so sorry,” I tell her, my eyes pricking from everything that’s stirring inside me. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she insists. “You are my daughter first. I love you. And trust me, this isn’t your first obstacle to battle through, and it won’t be your last. But

you have me, and no matter what you choose to do, I will stand by your decision and support you.” I wrap my arms around my mother, and she rubs my back as she hugs me. Now that I have told someone the truth to what’s been plaguing me, I feel like I’ve unleashed a trampling wild beast inside me. The fear of its presence can be felt from all over, twisting my stomach, needling my heart, and gnawing on anything it can get ahold of. I feel sick with dread, knowing I can’t hide from this any longer. I can’t keep avoiding Micah’s calls, and I definitely cannot continue to lead Kason on. One way or another, I’m going to have to find it within me to figure this out.



After talking with my mother yesterday, I was too on edge to even think about facing Micah. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to talk to him without breaking down and crying, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. My telling him about these feelings is going to be concerning enough for him. I don’t need to add to his worry by falling apart in a blubbering mess. So, I kept my phone off and did my best to distract myself, but I failed miserably. This situation is too big to shake. I woke up this morning more anxious than what I was last night. I’ve been stalling, buying myself time by taking a slow shower and getting ready for the day. Despite my stomach being rankled in stress, I even managed to eat a slice of dry toast and drink a little orange juice. My phone has been off since yesterday, and even though I want to hide from this situation, I know I have to face it. My mother is right; he deserves the respect of knowing my feelings of uncertainty. With a deep breath, I brace myself and turn my phone on. It takes a few seconds, but when the home screen appears, his worry fills the screen with notifications of missed calls, voice mails, and texts. My stomach constricts when I close my eyes and call him. After a few tormenting rings, he answers with a panicked, “Where have you been?” that comes out more as a scold than a concern. “I’m sorry,” is my instant defense. “Seriously. I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday. Why has your phone been off?” What little bravery I had going into the call diminishes into cowardice. I try to think of an excuse as to why I’ve been dodging him, but he has me frazzled, and I stall for too long.

“Ady?” “Yeah.” “Is everything okay?” “Everything’s fine.” My voice pitches and is unconvincing at best. “What’s going on?” His urgency is gone, replaced with a more gentler approach. I walk across my room and sit on the edge of my bed, already feeling defeated. “I don’t know.” “Can you talk to me? Because something is clearly bothering you.” “Are you sure about this?” I ask, wondering if he’s feeling any hesitation himself, because this would be so much easier if he were. I wouldn’t have to feel so alone then. “About what? Moving? Getting married?” “All of it?” “You’re starting to worry me.” “Just answer the question.” “Yes,” he says much too easily. “There’s no doubt that this is what I want. That you’re what I want. Isn’t this what you want?” “I . . .” The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too scared to say them. “Ady, now isn’t the time to hold back. Tell me what’s going on here. This is still what you want, right?” “I . . . I’m scared.” “Of what?” “Of absolutely everything,” I tell him, and that’s the honest truth. “I get it,” he says. “I know this is a lot coming at you—it is for me, too. Graduating, moving, getting married. It’s a lot to adjust to, and yeah, it is scary. But this is what you want, right?” “It’s just all moving so fast,” I tell him, purposely avoiding his question. “Some things I’m not able to slow down. This move being one of them. Once I get back, we have to be out of the condo in three weeks.” “I know.” “Baby, I don’t want you to be stressing out. There’s a lot that’s been happening,” he says, being insanely understanding. “I know how close you are to your mom and how upsetting it is to be moving even farther away. I want you to enjoy this time with her and not get yourself all worked up over everything else. So, if you need a break from all the house hunting stuff, just say the word, and I’ll take care of everything I can on my end.” “I feel like I need to hit a pause button.” “Can I ask you something?” he says, and when I agree, it’s the first time I hear

weariness in his voice when he asks, “Does this have anything to do with Kason?” “No.” My answer comes fast and a little defensive, so I take a deep breath, and with a calmer tone, tell him, “It’s me feeling like my whole world is changing and I’m fighting to find something to grab on to to help slow things down.” I feel instant regret for lying to him, but if I would’ve told him the truth, it only would have made him worry, and until I can sort through my feelings, there may be no reason for him to worry. “Grab on to me. Because I’m here, doing life right along with you. You aren’t alone, okay?” “Maybe I’m just ready for you to get back. I’m not used to being away from you.” “I’m not used to being without you, either. I miss you.” “I miss you, too.” And it’s the truth. We’re never apart from each other, so to be without him has been tough. Even though I’m conflicted, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him or that any of my love has diminished in his absence. “Look, if you feel like you need to hit pause for a while, then I’m fine with that. Unfortunately, I can’t do that right now. But if that’s what you need, then do it. Focus on yourself and try not to worry so much about everything else. It will all fall into place the way it’s supposed to.” His compassion comes as no surprise to me and neither does his lack of concern. I left out huge details of my perplexity and the reasons as to why I feel the way I do. Still, I thought he would be more uneasy. His confidence in us should settle me, but it only unnerves me even more. “Are you sure?” “I love you. Of course I’m sure. All I ask is that you don’t run from me if you feel overwhelmed, okay? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” “I know. I’m sorry.” We talk for a few more minutes, and I feel no better than before after we say our goodbyes. The whole conversation felt fake. I love Micah. God, I do, but I’m starting to question if that love is interloped with obligation. As if I owe him for everything he’s done for me. As if I couldn’t possibly hurt him because he’s never hurt me. I’m tangled in this messy web, and when I think about what I want—right now, in this moment—I go back and forth, weighing my options and silently demanding my head and heart come to an agreement. They don’t listen, and I heave a sigh of frustration. I could sit here all day in this quandary, driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to fit together all these jagged pieces of my life. Or, I can do exactly what my mother and Micah are telling me to do: take this time for me. Although I know the true meaning behind their words, I want to manipulate them in order to spend more time with Kason. Of course, I rationalize this by telling myself that if I don’t give myself this time with him, I won’t ever know if what I’m feeling is just the dying embers of our lost love or something more—something bigger. So, instead of feeling sorry for a situation I don’t have a true

understanding of, I reach for my phone and text Kason. Me: What are you doing?

I lie back on the bed with a knotted conscience and wait for him to text me back. I stare at the ceiling while chaos assaults me in a silentious war beneath my ribs, which only have room to house one man. And yet, there are two, causing my chest to strain in an unbearable ache. My phone chimes next to me, and I pick it up to read Kason’s response. Kason: Out here at Indian Rocks, killing time in the water. Taking a breather and saw your text. What are you up to?

I want to tell him how I feel right now because he’s the only one I can be honest with, but I’m also nervous to open myself up that much, knowing where his head is at with me. I’m scared to go too deep with him and share too much, so I send a benign text in return. Me: Not much. Would you mind if I stopped by to hang out for a while? I need to get out of this house. Kason: You don’t even have to ask. But what about a car? Me: I’ll just Uber it over to my mom’s office and get her SUV. No worries. Kason: Can’t wait to see you. Park around 21st. Me: Give me an hour.

I quickly text my mom, who agrees to let me take her car, so I call an Uber to come pick me up. While I wait, I toss on a bikini and throw my clothes back on over it. When my ride gets here, I lock up the house. The drive to the office is quick, and when I walk in, the receptionist has the keys for me at the front desk. “She’s on a phone call,” the girl tells me when I ask to speak to my mother. “But she said that she’s going to have one of the interns pick up a rental car, so you won’t need to come back to get her.” “Oh, okay. Thanks. Can you have her call me when she gets a chance?” “No problem.” I walk out with the keys and start toward the beach with a weird sense of freedom thrumming through me. It’s the anticipation that comes every time I know I’m about to see Kason. I tell myself not to feed into the emotion too much, but it’s outside my control as I cross the Gandy Bridge. It’s like I’m seventeen years old again. I used to drive this bridge all the time to come to the beach and watch Kason skim. When I think about it, I used to watch Micah, too. The both of them, along with Trent, would spend as many hours as they could out here. But Micah never caught my eye the way Kason did. When Kason was near, he was all I could see. I shake the memory out of focus and tell myself not to go back. That none of that matters anymore. I need to stop thinking about the past and stop comparing the two of them against each other. All I need to focus on is the here and now, and right now, I’ve lucked out with parking, and I’m hopping out of the SUV. When I hit the sand, I look down to my left and spot a couple guys, who must be who Kason is with since there’s no one else out here.

I walk over, and when I get closer, I see Kason running parallel to the water before dropping his board and jumping on. He does a couple small tricks, nothing as impressive as what Micah can do on the board. But then again, Micah has made it his career whereas Kason seems to enjoy it as a hobby. “Hey,” he calls out when he finally notices me coming his way. “I can’t believe how dead it is.” “The storm clouds started rolling in and the place emptied pretty fast,” he says, and I try to keep my attention on his face and not his bare chest, which is rippled in a lot more muscle than what it used to be. I used to know every inch of him, and now there’s so much that’s changed. “Long time, stranger.” I look to see a guy coming out of the water, but I don’t recognize him until he’s standing in front of me with a friendly, “I haven’t seen you since freshman year.” Something inside me paralyzes for a split second until I’m able to fake a smile. “Rhett, hi.” “I didn’t think you were still around.” I tense because even though he’s standing in front of me here at the beach, I feel like I’m sitting next to him on that couch . . . in that frat house . . . with Liam on the other side of me. My eyes lock to him as flashes of that night four years ago fire off in my mind. I haven’t felt the shocks of a trigger in a while, and this one has me teetering on fear. I’m too close to that night. “You okay?” he asks, and in the very next second, I remember him asking the same thing. “Are you feeling okay?” I recall telling him something about not drinking enough water. “I’m going to head out. You want to walk with me back to the dorms?” His voice is clear as day in my head, but Kason pulls me away when his filters in as he says my name. “Adaline?” The both of them stare at me with curious looks, and I stammer as I try to speak around the low burning terror in my gut. “Oh, sorry. I, uh . . . my mind just got away from me for a second.” Rhett doesn’t seem to care, but Kason holds suspicion in his eyes. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I assure, but it comes off too fake. “Anyway, it was good seeing you, Ady,” Rhett says. “You heading out?” “Yeah, man. If Ady doesn’t mind taking you back, I’m gonna bail.”

“I don’t mind,” I tell them, and when Rhett starts gathering his things, I can’t drag my eyes away from him. I’m stuck frozen on that couch. “I’m going to head out. You want to walk with me back to the dorms?” His words echo through me over and over again, words I should’ve grabbed on to, words that were there to save me. How could I have been so stupid as to dismiss them when they were right there—he was right there! Instead, I stayed, and because of that one single choice, I lost everything—including myself.



She’s like a stone wall. Unspeaking and unmoving as she watches Rhett. The moment he came out of the water, her whole demeanor took a sudden shift. She stands rigid, as if she’s looking at a ghost. As Rhett heads toward the parking lot, I reach out. The second I touch her, she coils away from me with turbulence in her eyes. I quickly draw back. She realizes her harsh reaction and is quick to mutter, “I’m sorry.” “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies and gives me a crap-ass smile meant to delude me, but I’m done allowing her to hide from me. The last time I gave into her bullshit, I lost her. I hold my hand out to her. “Come here.” She slides her palm into mine, and I walk her over to where my backpack is, and we take a seat. “What was that reaction all about?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “You know exactly what I mean. With Rhett.” Her eyes fall away, and she turns them to the water. She brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her bent legs. I watch as her brows subtly knit together, and I expect her to dismiss me with some lame excuse. Instead, she surprises me when she reveals, “He was there.” “What are you talking about?” She refuses to look at me, and when I catch her bottom lip trembling, she bites it for a moment before saying, “That night . . . Rhett was at that fraternity party with me. This was the first time I’ve seen him since.” With a much more cautious hand, I reach around her shoulders, and this time, she doesn’t flinch. “Seeing him . . . it triggered me in a way I haven’t felt in a while.” I press my hand against her, and she freely leans into me, something she never

would’ve allowed before. I’ve tried endless times to console her in the past, but she always pushed me away, asserting she was fine and getting mad at me for assuming something was wrong. “Does that happen a lot?” I ask, wanting to know every ounce of what this did to her. “It used to, but not recently.” She drops her head and rests her cheek on her knees. Her eyes full of pain as she looks at me. “Talk to me,” I request gently, hoping that she’ll finally open herself up to me a little more. “He offered to walk me back to my dorm, and I turned him down. None of this would’ve happened if I had just gone with him.” She blinks against tears that fill her eyes but don’t fall. “Why didn’t I go with him?” “You can’t do this,” I tell her, seeing her internal struggle with faulting herself. “You can’t blame yourself for something you had no idea was going to happen.” “But why did it have to happen to me?” Her voice is strangled and small, and the moment I pull her to me entirely and have her wrapped in my arms, she trembles. “I wish I had some profound answer for you, but I don’t. These things just happen. And it doesn’t matter how good or bad you are, no one is invincible.” She curls against me, and I simply hold her, comfort her, and lend her whatever strength I have. All the things I wanted to do in the past but she deprived me of, and here she is, finally giving me an opportunity not to feel so entirely worthless to her. This is what I always wanted—to be the one she could lean on. I would’ve taken all her pain and bore the weight on my own if I could’ve. Cradling her against my chest, her body soon settles into stillness, and as much as I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help myself when I bend my neck and kiss her bare shoulder. Her warm skin is soft against my lips, and when she turns her head, I’m not quick to retreat. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” I shoot her a dumbfounded look. “I lied to you. I pushed you away, and I left,” she says. “You should hate me.” “You don’t get it, do you?” Taking my thumb, I brush it along the crest of her cheek. “Your lies and even your abandonment, it was never enough to make me stop loving you. No matter what you do, I’ll never stop caring about you.” She turns away, wearing confliction so vividly as if my words are weapons inflicting pain upon her. But my words are truth, and with so many years lost and so much left unfinished, I refuse to let another day go by holding this shit in. I’m going to lay it all out there in the open because I’m sick of skating around what we both know is between us. “I love you, Adaline.” She turns right back to me when I say this. “We’ve lost so much time, and I don’t want things to go left unsaid, but I’m in love with you. You’re all I wantbut I’m in love with you. You’re all I wantbut I’m in love with you. You’re all I wantbut I’m in love with you. You’re all I want. Still to this day, you’re the only one who makes me feel this way.”

With as closely as I’m holding her, I can feel her chest rising and falling as her breathing grows in tempo. She then reaches up, slowly grazing her hand along the scruff of my jaw. “I feel the same way when I’m with you,” she reveals, and I swear those words knock the wind out from my lungs. “It’s like time hasn’t changed us . . . but it has.” She drops her hand from me as she hesitates. “When I’m with you, everything beyond us fades, but when I’m not with you, I have this whole other life that I’ve built and created, and I . . . I have Micah to think about. My heart is being pulled in two different directions, and that terrifies me. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I also can’t keep pretending that I don’t still love you.” Finally hearing the truth from her causes my heart to hammer against ribs that threaten to splinter under the pressure. I want to grab her face and kiss her relentlessly, but she doesn’t give me the chance when she begins to speak again. “I talked to Micah before I came here to see you.” I cringe every time she puts his name on her lips. “What did you tell him?” “The same thing I’m telling you. That I’m scared. That everything—graduating, moving, getting married—is happening too fast. I told him I needed to slow down. I can barely think straight anymore. It’s as if I’m running on pure emotions, and that worries me.” “What’s there to think about?” I question. “Would you really marry another man, knowing you’re still in love with me?” “It sounds horrible when you put it like that.” “There’s no other way to put it, Adaline.” “But I love him, too,” she affirms, yet it comes out too meager, with too much uncertainty. “We have years together.” “Yet, here you are . . . in my arms.” Her fake façade is wasted on me because she exposes too many cracks. I know this girl doesn’t want to inflict pain on anyone, and I have no doubt she’s scared, but at this point, someone is bound to get hurt, and fuck if that person is going to be me when I know that she was put on this earth to be loved by me. Lightning strikes down into the ocean, followed by a loud crack of thunder. “We should get out of here,” I tell her before standing to grab my backpack, towel, and skimboard. Adaline gets up with her flip-flops dangling from her fingers as she gazes up at the storm that’s blowing in. Another flash of lightning spears down. “Come on. Let’s go.” She leads the way to where she’s parked, and after giving myself and my board a quick rinse down at the beach shower, I dry off and hop into the SUV. She suggests going back to her place. The drive feels longer than what it should with the silence between us.

Adaline grips the steering wheel tensely with both hands, and I hate that she is going through this. Reaching out, I run my hand along her arm, tugging when I get to her wrist, and she easily lets go of the wheel and allows me to hold her hand. When she glances my way, I give her a slight, reassuring smile, but I practically have to force it because the bite of urgency starts to creep in. When she looks back to the road, I grit my teeth and try to focus on something else. I flip on the stereo and turn it up, but I know all too well that I’m powerless against this addiction of mine. Hell, I’ve already jerked off three times today. And as much as I’ve been trying to fight myself from fucking other girls now that Adaline has been coming around more, I couldn’t hold back. I hooked up with some stranger I met on the internet yesterday. She sucked my dick and after about a five-minute recovery, I fucked her until I couldn’t see straight. I squeeze Adaline’s hand when my balls tighten and draw up, and the moment she looks at me is the moment I look away. This is my goddamn dilemma, knowing she might actually be better off with Micah but being too stubborn to let her go. A week ago, she pushed me to seek some sort of treatment. I told her I would think about it, but I lied. As much as this controls my life and makes me feel like the lowest piece of shit human there is, the high is too high. It’s unearthly, unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life. The thought of giving up that kind of pleasure is nearly debilitating. I swear I need it to survive even though it’s killing me. As soon as we pull up to her house, I grab my bag and walk inside. “Give me a few minutes to wash up,” I tell her before heading into one of the guest bedrooms that has its own en-suite bathroom. I pull out my dry clothes from my bag, toss them next to the sink, and then hop in the shower. My erection is already raging hard. With one hand braced against the slate wall and the other gripped firmly around my dick, I beat off. It doesn’t take long before I’m coming as the hot water pelts against my back. Self-loathing consumes as I clean the salt and sand from my body and wash my hair. The internal abuse I inflict on myself is brutal when I think about Adaline downstairs and how badly her heart is being torn. Maybe I should make this easier on her. Yes, I want her, but I’m so not worthy enough for her to give her life to. I remember so vividly how much pain she put her body through because she felt this incessant need to take care of me, and now my hunger is so much stronger than what it used to be back then. Once I freshen up and throw my clothes on, I grab my bag and head downstairs. The second I see her, my chest pangs in misery. “You mind taking me back to my place? I forgot I had some stuff I need to do,” I lie, not wanting to subject myself into a false hope that we actually have a chance at making this work. “We just got here,” she says with need in her eyes. “Don’t go just yet.” Christ, this girl. I can’t resist her for the life of me. I know this rope she is giving me will ultimately be the noose I die from, but I’m not strong enough to walk away.

“Can we just spend some time together?” I drop my bag at the foot of the stairs, and when I walk over to her, she takes my hand and leads me outside to the couch that’s under the veranda. The storm has caught up to us and the rain is coming down in sheets. I kick back and lie down, and she crawls on top of me and right into my arms the way she always used to. Her heart beats against mine, and with her head on my chest, I close my eyes and pretend she’s mine. “I miss this,” she breathes against my neck. Closing my eyes, I flex my muscles around her and hold her closer, dreading the moment this will all come to an end. I breathe in her scent as the rain falls from all around. All I can do as the minutes bleed into unknown time is savor the feeling of her body against mine. It’s something I thought I’d never have again, and I don’t want to waste this moment. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the rain continues to fall, eventually lulling Adaline to sleep. I whisper her name, and when she doesn’t respond, I take more than what I should when I slip my hand under her shirt and run it up her spine, which is damp with sweat, reminding me of how hot she always used to sleep. I flatten my palm against her back and press her against me even more, absorbing her perspiration into my body that will always beg to have her. And with her everythings consuming me, it’s impossible to ignore the ache between my legs. I endure my dick straining against her belly as long as I can, until the pressure of urgency radiates down my legs and into my arms, causing my hands to grow jittery. I pull them from under her shirt and shake them out, but the tingles don’t relent. Shifting to my side, I settle Adaline between me and the back of the couch. I grab my dick from outside my shorts and readjust as I take in her beautiful face. Every soft angle, every lash that’s fanned along the peak of her cheekbone, the way her lips curve so perfectly. I sneak a kiss like a bastard because I miss the way her lips feel against mine. Sharp pain shoots up my lower abdomen and into my chest, yanking me away from her and rendering me too weak to avoid the unavoidable. I slip off the couch and leave her out here alone as I rush inside, but this time, my sick need to feel close to her in any way I can leads me to her room instead of one of the others. I lock myself inside her bathroom, and with her smell all around me, I yank my pants down and, for the fifth time today, jerk off with Adaline tucked behind my eyelids. This time, I don’t come so easily. Gripping the edge of the sink, I bear down and grind my teeth, picturing all the ways I want to touch her, feel her, taste her, and fuck her. I imagine her naked and spread beneath me as I try to recall the sound of her voice moaning my name when she would orgasm. A sheen of sweat breaks from my hairline, and when my vision blurs and my breathing staggers, growing louder, I blindly reach for a wad of tissue before I explode into a million fractions of heartbroken euphoria. I will my body to drain itself because I don’t want to be doing this again, at least not for today. I’m spent, and after a few more contractions, I toss the filthy wad into the toilet and flush. I return to the sink and splash a handful of cold water onto my face before staring into the mirror at all my decrepitness. I swear it eats away at my soul daily, and I

wonder at what point it’ll swallow me alive. I dry my face with a towel and shove my dick into my pants, needing to get back downstairs before Adaline notices I’m gone. But as soon as I unlock and open the bathroom door, she’s standing there with pity in her eyes. Shame spews from my veins, knowing she heard what I was doing in her bathroom. With bitterness on my tongue, I bite, “This is why we’ll never work,” as I try to walk out of the room, but I’m not fast enough. She rushes in front of me, blocking the door. “We worked before.” I can’t even bring myself to look her in the eyes. “I was a lot more in control back then.” “You can be in control now. You just have to want it.” Turning away from her, I pace over to the bed with a frustrated hand clawing through my hair. “I can’t do this.” I drop my hand to my side and look her dead on. “I want to. God, I want to be with you so much, but I’m too fucked, and I can’t put you in the middle of this nightmare of mine. You’re too good for this shit.” “Says who?” she argues as she steps closer to me. “Says me.” “You don’t get to tell me what I’m too good for or what I can handle. That isn’t up to you.” “You’re kidding, right? You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” I lash out. “I’ve been here for a little over an hour, and I’ve already fucked my hand twice. Then there’s the three times this morning, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not even close to being done for the day.” “You think I’m blind to the fact that you’re suffering through this?” she fumes, balling her tiny fists at her sides. “I know how badly this hurts you.” “Are you forgetting how badly it hurts you. How much pain I’ve put you through? How I’d make you fucking bleed?” I rip at old scars with that last one and cringe, balling my hands over my eyes, but she’s quick to grab ahold of my wrists and pull them down. “That was my choice. It’s still my choice.” “This isn’t what you should be choosing. This is an excruciating life.” “It doesn’t have to be.” I shake my head and pull my wrists out of her hands. “You aren’t the only one dealing with this,” she says, softening her voice, and when I lower myself onto the edge of the bed, she sits next to me. “There are people you can talk to. Doctors or psychiatrists or whatever, but there’s help out there. You just have to ask for it.” “What if I’m too far gone?” “I promise you that you aren’t,” she asserts before turning toward me and sitting on

her knees. “And if you think you’ll have to fight this alone, you’re wrong. We’ll fight it together. But don’t you dare think you’re a lost cause.” She has no idea that this monster living inside me has grown outside the realm of control. I’m powerless against it. But even if I could fight, I don’t know if I would because I don’t know a life outside of this craving. It’s all I’ve ever known. “I don’t care what I stand to lose; I’m not giving up on you.” She then takes my face in her hands, stressing every syllable of every word with fervency, as she proclaims, “You are not beyond saving,” but she fails to feed me the strength I need to believe her.



Kason returned to work this past week, leaving me with too much time to spare. Days are long and filled with agonizing dilemma. I try so hard to not get weighed down in the stress, but I can’t deny the direction in which my heart is swaying. I’ve been trying to keep myself occupied, but no matter how many runs I go on or how many movies I watch, it’s always there in the back of my mind—the unyielding question of what am I going to do. Although, I feel a need to slow everything down, with Kason, it’s near impossible. There hasn’t been an evening that we haven’t seen each other after he gets off work. And at the end of the night, when we’re alone in our separate beds, we find ourselves texting and eventually calling each other just to stretch the hours so we can stay connected a little longer. No matter how good and alive I feel, guilt is continually brewing beneath the surface, spilling over every time I talk to Micah. Perfect, loving, unfailing Micah. I feel like a wretch no matter how many times I tell myself I’m not. Truth is the truth, and I can’t talk myself out of that fact. The fact that I’m doing this all wrong. I need this time, though. Time to examine my heart and to figure out what the right thing to do is. To explore if there is something greater and deeper with Kason. Am I making the right decision by marrying Micah? Which path am I meant to follow? Or is there a third path? One I’ve yet to navigate? Should I step out and be on my own to truly know what it is I want? There are a million questions and a million reasons why, storming through me day in and day out. I haven’t mentioned any of this to my mom since our last conversation, but she knows how much time Kason and I have been spending together lately. She doesn’t say a word of opinion to me. So, when I toss my sunscreen into my bag and head downstairs, she doesn’t bat an eye when she asks where I’m going and I tell her, “Kason and I are going kayaking at Weedon Island.”

“That sounds fun. Whose idea was that?” I set my backpack onto the kitchen counter and open the fridge to grab a couple of bottles of water. “His.” I toss the waters into my bag. “The past couple of days have been hard on him with losing his mom and everything, so I suggested getting out and doing something fun this weekend. This is what he came up with.” “I really wish he would take a little more time off from work, but he insisted he was ready to come back,” she tells me as she flips through a magazine. “He’s been very quiet around the office, but maybe getting out and having a little fun will help.” The front door opens, and Kason comes walking in, wearing board shorts and a tank. “You ready?” I zip my bag and let him grab it for me. “I think so.” He slings it over his shoulder, and I give my mother a hug before we head out. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?” I tell him as we pull onto Bayshore Boulevard to make our way over to the Gandy Bridge. “Seriously? You’ve lived in Florida how many years and you’ve never kayaked?” “I mean, I’ve gone kayaking, just never through mangroves.” He reaches up and hits the button to open the sunroof before turning up the music, telling me, “You’re going to love it.” I smile, so relieved to no longer see the broodiness he’s been carrying around the past couple of days. When we hit the bridge, I fill my lungs with the salt from the water and drop my sunglasses over my eyes. The sun coats my shoulders in its heat through the open roof, igniting embers of happiness. I can’t help myself from staring at Kason as I slyly peer his way behind my dark lenses. He grips the wheel with one hand, and my eyes trail up the length of his defined arm to the knotted muscle of his broad shoulder. I feel like a schoolgirl spying on her crush, admiring the set of his jaw and the scruff that covers it. A smile threatens to expose me, and I quickly bite my cheek. Then, out of nowhere, a smirk appears on his lips when he teases, “You like what you see?” I’m totally busted but unwilling to give in to his cockiness. “What are you talking about?” “Your eyes are burning holes in me.” I reach out and push against his shoulder. “No they aren’t.” He chuckles. “You’re so full of yourself.” He shakes his head. “Whatever you say, but you’re the one with a history of spying on me.” “I should’ve never told you that.” Before I know it, we’re pulling in and parking the car. We hop out of the SUV and

with our backpacks on our shoulders, we head over to the launch pad where our tandem kayak is waiting on us. Kason helps me in, and I situate myself in the front seat while he settles into the back. One of the guys that works here hands over a trail map, and once we’re ready, we grab our paddles and head out. The water is smooth and glassy as we make our way over to the preserve. Kason steers us as I keep an even paddle. “Have you kayaked here before?” “A couple of times, but it’s been a while,” he says from behind me before adding with humor, “Never with this impressive view, though.” I shoot him a look from over my shoulder, and he winks. Rolling my eyes, I turn back around and continue paddling, purposely taking one dig too deep and splashing him with water. Next thing I know, his wet tank comes flying over my head and lands on my legs. “Dig left,” he says. “You see that opening in the bushes?” “Yeah.” “That’s where we’re going.” Looking around, there’s no one else but us out here in this area. Aside from a few seagulls squawking and the splashing of water from our paddles, the air is silent and peaceful, but heavy with humidity. A bead of sweat trickles from my scalp and down my neck, but as soon as we glide under the canopy of the mangroves, the sun no longer beats down on me. “This is amazing,” I say in awe as I tuck the paddle along the side of the kayak and let him take over. He steers us slowly through the dense thickets of tangled roots. It surrounds, closing around us like a tunnel. “Relaxing, isn’t it?” “It really is,” I tell him, but then I make the mistake of tilting my head back and looking at the branches that hang only a few feet above my head. My eyes widen in sheer horror, and I swear to god, every bone in my body locks in place when I see hundreds of tiny black crabs crawling everywhere! “Oh my god!” I screech in utter terror as I scramble in my seat to get as low as possible, rocking the kayak with my clumsy movements. “What happened?” “Kason, paddle fast! I want out of here!” My words come at rapid-fire pace as I freak out. “What the fuck is going on?” “There are crabs all over the place!” I almost jump out of my skin when we pass under a low-hanging branch covered in these frightening critters. I throw the kayak off balance,

and it splashes in the water, getting my legs wet. I panic, swatting at myself, thinking there are crabs on me. “You’ve got to calm down, babe. They won’t hurt you.” “I’m not kidding, Kason,” I snap, my piercing voice echoing from all around. “Get us out of here as fast as you can!” “We’ve got four miles of this shit.” “Oh my god,” I shriek as my heart pounds wildly in my chest. “I’m going to die.” I cover my face with my hands as I continue to thrash around and shrill out in terror, but I grow agitated when Kason’s laughter pierces through my fear. “Are you laughing at me?” “You’re freaking out over nothing.” “It isn’t nothing! This is a death chamber!” “They’re tiny little crabs,” he says, as if he were talking about lollipops. “Millions of them!” Every drop of water on my skin, every hair on my body, I swear it’s a crab, and I can’t stop lurching around and frantically brushing my hands all over myself. “I’m not kidding, Kason! Go faster!” He continues to laugh. “You look crazy right now.” “I don’t care! This is not fun.” “Just close your eyes, there’s an opening right ahead,” he tells me through his hysterical laughter, and when we make it out alive and into a small open space of water, my eyes dart around to find we’re trapped. “There’s no opening.” “I told you, we’ve got four miles of this,” he says, and I feel like crying. “We either keep going or turn back around.” “And go back through?” I wail. “No way!” “Look around. You got a better option.” I scoot up in my seat and drop my head into my hands with a heavy sigh. “They’re just mangrove crabs. They won’t hurt you,” he says gently in an attempt to calm me down, but this is my biggest fear. I’m deathly afraid of spiders, and that’s exactly what these things look like—ginormous spiders with claws. Dropping my hands, I pivot in my seat and sit sideways so I can look at him. “This is all your fault, you know?” “I had no idea you were going to freak out like this.” My jaw drops. “You know I’m scared of spiders.” “These aren’t spiders.” “No. They’re so much worse!” I glare daggers at him when he shakes his head, smiling as if I’m being ridiculous, and

when I feel something poke the outside of my thigh, I look down to see a crab crawling on the seat. A blood-curdling scream rips out of me, and I jump to my feet, rocking the kayak, causing me to lose balance and topple over into the water. Fear of this water being filled with these monsters, I kick like a maniac, yelping when I take in a mouthful of water. “Go to the back so you don’t tip us,” Kason instructs as he reaches his arm out for me. Desperate to get out of the water, I swim as fast as I can and grab on to him. He pulls me out and into the back seat as he steps over to the front seat so the tail end doesn’t go under. He turns the front seat around so that he’s facing me as I try to catch my breath. “I swear to god, Kason,” I tell him in unfathomable seriousness. “This is my worst nightmare come to life.” His face holds structure for only a handful of seconds before he cracks a smile and barrels into another fit of laughter. I slap his arm, but he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he reaches down and pulls my foot into his lap. He continues to chuckle as he unlaces my wet shoes and pulls them off my feet. They drop like heavy weights before he leans over and hugs me. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I grumble. After a few calming moments, he draws back and helps me into the front seat after ensuring there are no more crabs in the kayak. “We have to go back through to get out of here,” he says. “Just put your head in your lap and close your eyes.” “You have to go fast.” “I’ll go as fast as I can, babe, but you can’t be acting all psycho. You’re scaring all the wildlife away,” he jokes. “Fine.” I shift the seat back to forward-facing, and bend over, using his shirt to muffle my shrieking. “Just hurry.” When we make it back through and over to the dock, I can’t get out fast enough. The same attendant that was here earlier helps me out, taking in my soaking wet clothes. “What happened? You guys weren’t out very long.” Kason grabs our two bags in his one hand and wraps his other arm around my shoulders, telling him, “I guess she’s more of an indoor girl.” I scowl, and he kisses my forehead, still finding humor in my misery. We head over to his SUV, and when he pops open the hatch, he tosses our backpacks in before unzipping a small duffle. “I have some clean clothes in my gym bag.” He pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts and hands them to me. “Stay out here,” I tell him as I open the backseat door and crawl in. I peel off my wet clothes, and toss them out the window for Kason and then slip on his clothes, which are way too big for me. They’re dry and don’t smell like swamp water, so I don’t complain.

As we’re on our way back to our side of town, Kason reaches over and gives my knee a small squeeze. “I’m never going to forgive you for this,” I tell him with the smallest hint of a smile, finally calming down. “My ears are still ringing from all your screaming.” I slide my hand over the top of his, which is still on my leg, and slip my fingers between his. The smiling sun flashes billions of rays against his beautiful face, and it’s in this very moment that something takes a shift, gathering all of my torn roots and securing them back together with his. And for the first time, I quietly surrender to the fact that, perhaps, this is exactly where I’m meant to be. Thirty minutes later, Kason turns up the driveway and stops to drop me off. I don’t open the car door, though. Nor do I move. A voice inside me is telling me not to go just yet, and I decide to listen. “Are you okay?” A powerful something entangles my heart, tugging it toward him, and I make my request, “Can we go back to your place?” The corner of his lips curve, and without another word, he shifts the car back into drive.



Kason unlocks the door to his condo and lets me in, but something feels different between us. Somehow, within the hours of this day, something has shifted between us, and I wonder if he feels it, too. “I’ll go get you a change of clothes so you can get cleaned up,” he says as he walks into his bedroom. I follow, and when he pulls out a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt for me, I take them into the bathroom and close the door. After I strip out of his gym clothes, I pull my wet hair down from its ponytail before stepping into his shower. Standing under the spray, I think about Kason in the other room and contemplate what it would be like to be with him again. My mind drifts back to how incredible life was when we were together. It was as if I were floating above the bands of gravity and nothing could ever bring me down. Only, something did bring me down, and we wound up crashing and burning. It wasn’t because we fell out of love, though. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about him or didn’t want him. I never stopped wanting him. I lied to myself when I started healing from the loss of him, convincing myself that I was moving on and falling out of love. It took my coming back here for me to realize that I never fell out of love with him and that what we had is still here. That not even time or distance could snuff what was lit ablaze when we first met. So, if I’ve been lying to myself, does that mean I’ve been lying to Micah as well? Have I tricked myself into thinking I’m in love with him the same way I tricked myself into believing I was over Kason? Thoughts contradict, and I’m not sure at this point what is real and what isn’t. I dump some of Kason’s shampoo into my hand and wash the grime out of my hair before cleaning my body, and before I know it, I’m intoxicated by his scent. It fills the steamy air around me, and when I turn off the water and dry off, I wipe my hand across the foggy mirror and stare at myself. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, as if Micah

doesn’t mean anything to me, because he does. He absolutely does. It’s just . . . what if Kason means more? I toss on the clothes, find a blow drier, and dry my hair before walking out into the living room. “Better?” he says, and I simply nod because my thoughts have my nerves wrecked right now. Almost as if I’m committing a crime just by looking at him. “I’m going to hop in myself. Give me ten minutes.” He closes the door to his bedroom, and after I hear the water turn on, I wander over to the windows and take in his view of the port. Cruise ships, along with other various boats, take occupancy in the water, and I think back to when boats were the only thing that would bring me a sense of sanity. Subconsciously, I begin to count the same way I used to when I first moved to Miami, but too soon, they’re all accounted for, not even coming close to the hundreds of yachts that line the marina outside of my bedroom window. I used to lie in bed, counting and crying until my vision blurred and my heart struggled to beat under the unforgiving weight of sadness. My world was falling apart, and I was utterly hopeless—beyond repair. Never had I felt so alone. “Is everything okay?” His soft voice has me turning toward it. He’s standing at my side with his hair still damp from his shower, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. I didn’t even hear him walk into the room. When I blink, I realize my eyes are misty, and I turn back to the boats, thinking about all the times I wished for him as I lied in bed alone. “I used to count boats,” I murmur out of nowhere. “My window back home in Miami looks out over a marina. It was the only way I could fall asleep.” “Why?” I look up into his eyes that harbor so much grief and tell him, “Because I couldn’t get rid of the fear from that night. It was the only way I could distract myself.” “Tell me more. I want to know what this did to you,” he pleads, his voice a whispered strain, eager to connect himself in any way he can to what I kept from him. “I was terrified of the dark for the longest time. I always needed a light on. It embarrassed me and made me feel so weak.” I wrap my arms around myself and continue, “I couldn’t sleep at night because I was too scared, so I’d wait until the sun came up. Something about daylight made things seem a little safer.” He nods as if remembering all the naps I would take. All the excuses. “Give me more.” I push against the anguish of that time and ignore the ache in my chest as I give him what he needs to know. “I couldn’t be around crowds without freaking out. I had constant nightmares and panic attacks.” My throat constricts, and I swallow hard, forcing my next words out on a voice that trembles. “And then there was you.” My eyes well with tears. “I would lie in bed at night and text you.”

His brows narrow. “I never got any texts.” “I never sent them.” I blink and memories streak down my cheeks. “I would type them out and delete them. For months, that’s all I did. Type and delete, type and delete.” “What did they say?” I drop my arms from around me and look deeply into his eyes. And it’s now that I know. I feel it swimming in my bones—a love that is so whole and so intense and so pure, nothing could possibly measure up to what we share. “Tell me what they said.” Abandoning all restraint, I hand over words I should’ve never kept from him. “That I was sorry. That I missed you. That I didn’t want you to hate me.” My voice splinters as tears spill over. “And that I loved you.” He takes a step closer to me, closing the space between us. “Because I do, Kason. I love you, and I don’t ever see that stopping.” He takes my face in his hands, and we’re kissing. Urgently, passionately, recklessly. He pushes his body against mine, and in a rush, we stumble to his bedroom as our lips tangle. We fall onto the bed, and I can barely breathe. It’s madness and desire mixed with so many years lost, and I just want him back. He pulls my T-shirt off, and my head spins in waves that crash over me too fast and too hard, rendering me breathless. “Kason, wait.” He takes his lips from my neck and stares down at me as our chests pant against each other. A heavy breath kicks out of him, and when I reach up to touch his face, he stills with uncertainty. “Slow, okay?” He drops his head to mine with a sigh, and this time, when I press my lips to his, he takes them gently, caressing his tongue along mine, and before I know it, our bodies begin to move. Our hands explore and reacquaint, and he open-mouth kisses my breasts. He suckles, long and slow, causing my back to bow off the bed, needing more of him on me. He loves me perfectly, every touch of him has me wanting more. His large hands drop down to the waistband of my pants, and I lift my hips when he tugs down and slides them off my legs. He has me entirely naked beneath him with my heart completely exposed. “Tell me you want me,” he says, needy for my reassurance, and I give it to him easily. “I want you, Kason. I always have.” He kisses me, and I grip the elastic band of his gym shorts and push down. When he kicks them off, he reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out a condom, laying it on the bed next to me before sitting back on his heels. My heart pounds as I watch him grip my knees and spread my legs open. His eyes pierce through mine so lovingly before they roam down my bare body and stop between my thighs. I’m completely exposed to him, but I’ve never felt safer than what I do right now. He’s

had my heart from the very beginning, and I trust him with my everything. His fingers touch me, and I gasp to finally have this back. It’s a powerful sensation, one that shakes me to the core, and when he slides a finger inside me, a strangled whimper falls from my lips. “You were all I ever wanted,” he says as he strokes me. “It wasn’t even a choice for me.” I reach down and take his erection in the palm of my hand, curving my fingers around him. We used to struggle with intimacy, fighting our way to finally be together, but right now he’s hard with nothing standing in the way of us because this is where we belong. Slowly, he drags his finger out of me, and while I continue to work him in my hand, he grabs the condom and tears it open. Once he’s sheathed and we’re safe, he bends over and kisses me open and deep as he slowly pushes his way inside me, filling me entirely with all of him. I’m breathless, feeding on the air from his lungs as he takes me as his. But he doesn’t have to take. I’m freely giving myself to him. Melded as one being, I clutch my arms around him and feel his back quake a couple of times against my hands. His hips don’t move as I hold him to me, and when he finally raises his head enough to rest it against mine, I see his tears as he stares into my eyes. My own form, slipping out and rolling down my temples and into my hair. Never in my life have I felt as close and connected to another human as what I do right now—with him. In the midst of so much pain and so much adoration, we kiss away each other’s tears as we make love. But we don’t stop there, and I know better than to assume that we could be together for just the one time, and it would be enough. That isn’t who Kason is. That isn’t who we are together. It never has been. So, as we lie in bed naked and I feel him growing hard against me, I begin dropping kisses along his neck to let him know I’m okay to go again. And we do, making love as the sun burns out, giving way to the moon and stars. I lose myself as we go into the night, growing needier and needier. And when my body fails and I’m forced to take a break, I crawl between his thighs and love him with my mouth, taking care of him while I buy time before having sex again. Entirely spent, I doze off for a bit before waking to find him sitting up in bed with a dreadful look on his face and his fist pressed down on himself. He sees my unspoken question and bites down in frustration. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “I can’t push you again.” “You aren’t pushing me.” In the dark, I grab another condom before taking his fist and moving it away from the erection he’s trying to suppress. I straddle his lap and slide the condom over him. There’s shame eating away at him when he says, “You don’t have to do this, Adaline.” Positioning him at my opening, I drop down and take him inside me with a heady breath of pleasure, moaning softly as he fills me. Rolling my hips, I tangle my fingers in his hair as he drags his soft tongue over my nipple and suckles me.

Spent and lying next to him, my muscles ache, but I don’t dare complain. I’m back in the arms of my everything, and with my head on his chest, I listen to his heart as it beats its I love yous against me. I try to force my eyes to stay open, wondering if he’s going to need me again before the sun returns, but I can’t hold on any longer as I finally hand myself over to sleep. When I do wake again, I’m alone. I sit up in bed and look out the window to see dawn on the horizon before turning to the sliver of light peeking out from under the bathroom door. It’s agonizing, the sorrow I feel for him and the battle his body endures day in and day out. It’s an endless discomfort he suffers from, and it tears me apart that he’s so afraid to get help. Slipping out of bed, I wrap the sheet around my naked body and pad across the room. I hate that he feels so guilty about coming on to me again that he’s hiding away in the bathroom. Slowly, I crack the door open to find him masturbating. He’s lost in ecstasy, panting in staggering breaths with his eyes closed. I watch him for a second, and even though he’s a slave to this debilitating hunger, I’m mesmerized by his beauty. Dropping the sheet from around me, I step behind him, and the moment I wrap my arms around his middle and hug my chest to his back, his body flinches, and his eyes pop open, staring into the mirror at me. His chest expands and contracts with each hard breath he takes, and when I slip my body to his front, I run my fingers along his hairline, collecting beads of sweat. “You don’t have to be in here alone.” “It’s too much.” I shake my head at his words. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much. I promise, I will.” He then grabs my hips, lifts me onto the counter, and spreads my legs open. “I love you so fucking much,” he professes before sinking into me. We throw caution out the window, foregoing a condom because we’re simply too desperate for each other to care. Kason holds my thighs in his hands as I lean back against the mirror. I watch him watching where our bodies connect as he makes love to me, and I swear to God, he’s my heart’s scripture.



“You’re quiet,” Kason says as he drives me home. “I’m tired.” It’s only half of the truth, though. The thing is, I’m scared to leave him, because I know the second I do, the all-consuming delirium I feel when I’m with him will vanish, leaving me in the despair of my reality. I cheated on Micah. The weight of my actions are already compounding and dragging me down. I’m not ready to face the consequences or the wrath of Micah when he finds out. God, what have I done? How did yesterday get so far out of hand that every line dissolved into nothingness? How did I not even care? And how does Kason do that to me? Make everything outside the two of us just disappear? It’s as if nothing exists beyond us. I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and Kason takes notice when he pulls around the drive and parks in front of my house. “Talk to me, babe. Tell me what has you on the verge of tears.” “Everything is so messed up,” I blurt out. “I’m not this person.” “And what kind of person is that?” “One that lies and cheats when I’m committed to someone else,” I tell him as my anxiety strengthens. I pull my hand out of his and drop my head. “God, Kason, what have I done? What am I supposed to tell Micah? How am I supposed to explain this?” “Tell him the truth.” “I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.” I lift my head and see the confusion in his eyes, but I’m even more confused. “I have so many thoughts tangled in my head, and I don’t know how to make sense out of them.” He stares out the window in silence, and when he faces me again, there’s bitterness in

his eyes. “Then what the fuck was last night?” His tone strikes hard, and I don’t blame him. “I don’t know,” I respond meagerly, not wanting to evade him because he deserves the god’s honest truth. “When I’m with you, I’m blind to everything else. All I see is you and all I feel is you and all I want is you. But outside of you, I have Micah. I have a life with him. We have years together, and all I’ve had with you is two weeks.” “You know we are so much more than two weeks.” “I know,” I admit. “And you’re right, but somehow, in such a short period of time, my world has gotten flipped upside down, and I’m scared because I can’t wrap my mind around what’s happening anymore.” “Do you love me?” “That isn’t even a question, Kason. Of course I love you. But I love Micah, too.” My words slap him across the face, but he should know this. I would’ve never gotten engaged to a man I didn’t love. But these two loves are so vastly different, and I need space to figure out and make sense of this mess I’ve created. “I need time to think and really figure out exactly what it is that I’m feeling.” “So, where does that leave me, huh?” “I don’t know,” I stress. “I don’t even know where that leaves me, which is why I should probably go back to Miami for a little while.” “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re just going to bail?” “I’m not bailing. It’s where I live, plus Micah’s coming back home tomorrow, and no matter what, I’m going to have to find some way to tell him what I’ve done.” “You say that as if you have regrets.” “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I tell him, because I don’t regret what I did—what we did. I only regret that it happened while I’m still in a relationship with someone else. Someone who doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. Micah’s never done anything wrong, and I just betrayed him in the worst way possible. “Don’t bother,” he clips, shifting the car into drive. “Just go back home.” “Kason, don’t do this. Please understand.” His jaw flexes in utter irritation. “I just need to figure this out.” “Yeah, I get it,” he snaps, completely closing himself off from me, but I can’t give him answers I don’t have. I know my heart is so undeniably tethered to his, but I’m scared I’m fooling myself into feeling something that might only be a product of what we had left behind, mixed with my guilt for deserting him. What if I get back to Miami and realize that this was all a mistake and the life I chose with Micah is the one I truly want? “Kason—” “Just go, Adaline.”

Grabbing my backpack, I get out of the car, and as soon as I close the door, he’s speeding off, taking chunks of my heart with him. Consumed by so much anguish, I drag myself through the front door with tears streaming down my face. “Ady? Is that you?” my mom calls from her office, but I don’t have the energy to answer. As I make my way to the stairs, she walks into the room, takes one look at me— disheveled and wearing Kason’s clothes—and stops. I look her in the eyes, and she sees right through me, instantly knowing why I was out all night and what I was doing. Her face drops in compassion as she comes to me and gathers me in her arms. “Oh, Ady.” I break down and begin weeping. “I love him, Mom.” I want to believe I’m a child and that my mom still has the power to fix my mistakes, but the blade ripping through my soul tells me that I’m on my own with this. But for now, I’ll take her comfort for what’s it’s worth, because I know when I go back to Miami, this is all going to fall on my shoulders, and I’m going to have to face this head on. When I pull back, she smooths my hair with her hands as I wipe my face. “I have to go home,” I tell her. “I thought I could figure this out here, but I’ve only made everything more complicated.” “What are you going to do?” I shrug. “I don’t know. But I can’t be the kind of girl who does what I did last night.” I sit on the bottom step of the stairs, and my mom joins me at my side. Leaning over, I rest my head on her shoulder as she drapes her arm around me. “Sometimes, we let our hearts get away from us, dear. And when that happens, it’s a painful lesson,” she says as a few more stray tears bleed out of me. “You aren’t the first girl who followed her heart straight into a bad decision, and you won’t be the last.” “This is going to destroy Micah.” “It’s going to hurt him, but it won’t destroy him. And if you two decide to stay together, then you’ll find a way to work through it and move on.” “What about Kason?” She pushes against my shoulders, and when I lift my head, she says, “You cannot live your life constantly fearing how your choices are going to impact others. It’s okay to be concerned and to care, but it isn’t okay to make decisions based on someone else’s emotions.” She runs her fingers beneath my eyes and takes my shoulders back in her hands, telling me honestly, “Whatever you decide to do, someone is going to get hurt, but this is your life. You need to be doing what is right for you.” I tuck her words safely in my head because I know I’m going to need them to get myself through what’s coming my way. She follows me upstairs, and as I take a shower and clean up, she gets on her phone and books me a one-way ticket back to Miami that leaves in a couple of hours. Once I’m dressed and packed, I toss on a pair of sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes. I

shoot Kason a quick text to let him know I’m flying out, but he doesn’t text back. When we get to the airport, my mother insists that I take what little time I have to myself to think before Micah comes back, and then we say our goodbyes. After nearly two weeks, it feels strange to be going back home because nothing is the same anymore. After I go through the security check, I sit at the gate and wait for them to start boarding, all the while, fighting the urge to run out of here and back to Kason. I check my phone again to see he still hasn’t responded. And by the time I land back in Miami, I resolve that he has no intention to text me back. After a call to Kate, I go to baggage claim, pick up my suitcase, and wait outside for her. In no rush for anything to happen, I sit on one of the benches to wait despite the yearning to run away to a place that’s far from what I’m about to face and closer to where I left my heart. Cars sit bumper to bumper as they pick up travelers of all kinds. Smiles and laughter and I’m so happy to be heres come from all around, but no such reaction is my own. Instead, I sulk in dread as I repeat the same question over and over, asking myself what have I done and what am I going to do. The questions only hit me harder the moment I see Kate pull up to the curb. A face that has nothing to do with my life back in Tampa but everything to do with my life here in Miami beams when she gets out of the car to greet me with a much too undeserving hug. I force a smile and hug her in return before loading my suitcase in the trunk and hopping in the passenger seat. “So, I see you came to your senses,” she remarks while being half distracted as she maneuvers her way through the airport traffic. After I initially talked to my mom about all my confusion, I had called Kate before I spoke to Micah. Without going into detail, I told her about Kason and how conflicted I was. “I’m just ready to get home,” I tell her, not believing my own words. Because, honestly, I’m not so certain this is home anymore. “I’m seriously exhausted.” “You look like it.” She then slips on her sunglasses before adding, “No offense.” I watch my best friend for the past few years as she drives back to the condo, happy at least to have her in my company since I’m not sure I’m ready to be left alone. “So, what have you been doing since I’ve been gone?” I ask, desperate for a distraction from my messy situation. “I started my new job a few days ago. The people seem really nice.” “Why didn’t you call me?” I ask, feeling guilty for not knowing that her first day has already come and gone. “It isn’t a big deal. Plus, you had your own distractions.” Dodging that bullet, I keep the focus on her. “How was it?” “Fine, I guess. I buddy-upped with another girl who works there. She’s basically just shown me the computer system and has gone over one of the client portfolios that I’ll begin working on this next week.” “What kind of client?”

“A couple players from the Dolphins are opening a night club in South Beach.” “Fun.” She goes on to tell me some of the details and ideas she has about a launch party. She’s excited, and I’m so happy for her, because this is her element, and this is exactly what she wants to do. Me, on the other hand, I’m absolutely clueless as to what I’m going to do at this point in time. It’s as if I’m on a tightrope, and any second, I’m bound to lose my footing. “Yo!” Trent says when Kate and I walk into the condo. “Back from Tampa!” He holds out his arms, and I give him a hug, noticing a bunch of boxes stacked in the living room. “What’s all this?” “I snagged a single unit on the fifth floor, so I’ve been moving for the past few days,” he tells me. “You’re already moving? That was fast.” “Dude, we gotta be out of here in two weeks. It isn’t that fast.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I murmur, realizing that, even though time stalled in the presence of Kason, it never truly stopped moving. “You coming down later?” he asks Kate, and she gives me a strange expression when I look between them. “Yeah,” she tells him. “Let me talk to Ady for a while.” Trent grabs a couple of boxes, and she opens the door for him. “Catch you later, Ady.” “What was that all about?” Kate fights a mischievous smile. “Oh my god! Did something happen between you two?” “We . . . we kind of kissed the other day.” My jaw hits the floor as I stare at her in shock. “Don’t look at me like that,” she warns with abashment scorning her face. “Are you two, like, together?” “This is Trent we’re talking about,” she says, as if kissing him is no big deal when she’s had a thing for him since freshman year. “It was only a kiss.” “Has he said anything?” She shakes her head. “Not really, and I’m not pushing, either. I’m not setting myself up to get hurt. But he invited me over to his new place yesterday. All we did was hang out, though.” “Well, apparently, he wants to spend more time with you.” “Enough about me,” she says before flopping down on the couch. “You haven’t said a

word about your old flame. What’s his name again?” Just like that, I’m sucked back to the maelstrom of riotous confusion inside me. “Kason.” “Well, I’m glad you got over it and came back home. I was seriously starting to worry.” I walk over and fall back onto one of the chairs with a heavy huff. “You did get over it, didn’t you?” she questions warily. With no more tears left in me from these past two week, I simply sit and stare blankly at my friend because I’m at a total loss for words. She sits up and leans forward. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know,” I respond. Honestly, I have no clue what I’m doing anymore. “What do mean you don’t know?” With my heart still tangled in the sheets of Kason’s bed where we made love countless times last night, I tell her with defeat in my breath, “I still love him.” She lets go of a tense sigh and drops her head. “Trust me, I know how bad this is. I can’t help the way I feel, though. Everything would be so much easier if I could just shut it off. No one would have to get hurt and Micah and I would move to California and get married just the way we planned. But I can’t shut it off. He’s all I can think about.” “I don’t get it. I mean, you and Micah are perfect for each other. Are you really willing to jeopardize that for some guy you dated in high school?” She says this so flippantly, so casually, that I want to snap and tell her she has no clue how deep my and Kason’s love ran, even as teenagers. “He wasn’t some high school fling.” “All I’m saying is . . . Micah is a great guy. You two have been together for years.” She then takes a pause before continuing, “Look, I don’t know who this other guy is, but I do know Micah. Just . . . I don’t know. I don’t think I would say anything to him unless I was ready to reap the consequences.” “Trust me, I know there won’t be any coming back from it.” “What are you going to do then?” “I’m going to have to talk to Micah when he gets back tomorrow.” Her face drops. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” “He deserves to know the truth, Kate. I can’t deceive him like that.” Although, I already have. “Do you need anything from me?” “As much as I want to pretend this isn’t happening, I think I just need some time alone.”

She stands, and I join her before giving her a long hug. She squeezes me in her arms, assuring, “I’m here for you, you know?” I nod against her and then pull back with a few unshed tears in my eyes, requesting, “Please tell me that everything’s going to be okay.” She gives me a sad smile. “Everything will be okay no matter what happens.” And with that, she tells me she’s only a few floors down with Trent if I need her before she leaves me alone in the very condo where Micah and I fell in love. The place our love will likely be torn apart. Because that’s honestly how it feels, as if our love has been completely disrupted and yanked off the hinges that bound us together.



I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I stared out my window, longing to see cruise ships instead of yachts. Ever since I returned, I’ve wanted to run right back to Kason. I tell myself over and over to stop thinking that way, but I can’t. The sun rises out of the water, and no longer can I keep denying what’s right in front of me. I didn’t need to come back to Miami to clear my head and figure out where my heart is. It’s with Kason. It always has been. I can attempt to fight it and come up with a million excuses why I shouldn’t feel this way, but all I am doing is prolonging the inevitable. I’m in love with Kason. It’s a truth that won’t go away. A truth that has been there since I was seventeen. I never stopped loving him. That isn’t to say that I don’t love Micah. I do. I fell so hard for him during a time when his love was so perfect for me. But looking back, I fell in love with a broken heart and torn roots, on weak knees and tear-soaked pillows. I’m stronger now. I’m not the same broken girl I used to be. The type of girl who needed a man like Micah. I realize now that it’s no longer enough, and that I can handle the intensity of Kason. A man who is powerful and fierce and utterly soul consuming. He always has been. Logic tells me not to rush into any decisions and to take my time, but I don’t want to waste another minute because I know what I want. Taking more time is only going to hurt Micah worse when I don’t want to hurt him at all. I started packing up my room last night. There’s only a few things that remain, which I have to take care of before Micah returns later tonight. I’m sick to my stomach, thinking about having to break his heart and shatter his

dreams of a life together. I keep telling myself he deserves better than me, better than a woman whose heart still belongs to another man, but it doesn’t make this any less hard. Worse than anything, I’m going to lose him as a friend. I’ve played it in my head a thousand times, and I can’t find a single scenario where he forgives me. I won’t blame him for his anger, for his lack of forgiveness. What I’m doing, what I’ve done, is unforgiveable. Even though I’m choosing to walk away, it doesn’t negate the fact that my heart is breaking into a million pieces. I love Micah—that stands true—but I love Kason more. I pick up the phone and call him. There’s no doubt I hurt him when I left, but this is something I had to do. I had to get away, even if only for a day to clear out any doubt that was shadowing my honest feelings. The shadow is gone, though, and I wish Kason would just answer so I can settle his heart, but he doesn’t, and this isn’t something to be left frivolously on his voice mail. I sit on the edge of my bed and then call my mother. “Is everything okay?” is how she answers. “I hope so,” I tell her. “But I need your help.” “What is it?” My ribs begin splintering, knowing I’m starting something I won’t be able to reverse. Knowing that this is actually happening. “I need you to find a moving company that will come pick up my belongings.” “Where are you going?” I hiccup past the ball of pain in my throat. “I’m coming back home, Mom.” I then break down, and she assures me that everything will work out, and that all I need is a little time for my life to readjust. The truth is, I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about Micah. Because when this ends tonight, I’ll have Kason to help me through, but Micah will be all alone. I look at the time on my phone and know I have a handful of hours left to be packed and ready to go before Micah gets home. There’s no way I can break his heart and then sleep across the hall from him. He’s going to want me out anyway. He’s probably going to hate me. I will do what I can to make this easier on him, so I wipe my tears and continue to box everything up. After a couple of hours, my mother calls me to let me know she’s made arrangements for the movers to come by in two days and clear out my room. Micah has texted me a few times as well, letting me know that his flights are on time and that his car is at the airport, so I don’t need to pick him up. Kate stops by with lunch, but I can’t eat. She sits on the bed with me while I cry and consoles me as best she can. “If you want, I can go with you and just catch a flight back if you’re worried about driving alone.” I shake my head, denying her request, and then telling her, “Kason won’t answer my

calls. He has no idea I’m coming back.” “I can’t believe you’re leaving so suddenly.” “I can’t stay. I can’t put Micah through that.” “I know,” she says through her own tears. “I’m just worried about you. You’re my best friend.” “And you’re mine.” When she leaves, I find a morsel of peace knowing that at least I will still be in the same state as her instead of the other side of the country. I then load my car with as many boxes as I can fit, but I am only able to get a few in. Heading back into the condo, I find Trent inside. “Everything okay?” he asks, taking in my red eyes. And it’s now I realize that I might be losing him as well. He’s Micah’s best friend. There’s no way he’s going to talk to me after this. My tears swell, and I walk straight into his arms, giving him a hug. “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?” “You’ve been a really good friend to me, and I need you to know how much I appreciate you.” “Dude.” He tightens the hug for a second before pulling back. “Don’t get all hormonal on me. You know my ass will be coming to Cali to visit every chance I can get.” I give him a nod, unable to speak through the boulder of emotions I’m trying to suppress. He grabs a few things from the fridge, saying, “I’m gonna stay in my new place tonight since you two haven’t seen each other in a while. Don’t need to be hearing my boy getting laid.” A breathless chuckle escapes through my anguish. “You’re gross.” “Catch ya later.” He then leaves, and it’s for the best that he won’t be here tonight. I lock the door and then make my way into Micah’s room—our room. The one we’ve been sharing for years. I crawl into his bed and slip under his sheets, salting his pillows with heartbreaking agony. The pain cuts from deep within, planting scars in their path of destruction. How will I ever forgive myself for doing this to him? Micah is so incredible, and I don’t doubt the beautiful life we could’ve had. In a world of darkness, he brightened my days and gave me hope when all of mine had been depleted. But I can’t stay with him out of obligation when my heart is being called elsewhere. He’s worth so much more than that. I take this moment alone and say my goodbyes, crying until I can’t anymore. Soaking up his scent into the crevasses of my lungs, I make a tiny home for him in the corner of my heart and drag myself out of his bed and back into my room to wait. My bags are packed and loaded in my car that will take me back to Tampa tonight,

while my room is filled with cardboard boxes. It seems like forever ago that I moved in here. I was running away from everything, including Kason. Never did I imagine this being my life four years later. Again, it feels like my world is falling apart, but this time, I’m running toward Kason. Staring out the window for the last time, I count boats while I wait for Micah to come home to our home no more. As the setting sun stains the sky in fluorescent pinks and purples, I hear the door open and hold my breath. “Ady?” I open my mouth, but choke on fear before I can respond. My skin goes cold as I stare at the door, and then, before my eyes, he appears. “Shit!” he remarks when he takes in my room, which is entirely packed up. “You work fast, babe.” Paralyzed, I remain on the bed, unmoving and unspeaking as he smiles and walks toward me. He takes my hands and pulls me off the bed and into his arms. His lips fall on mine, and even though mine don’t belong to him anymore, I kiss him back, taking one last drink of his sweet goodness as he holds me in his soft embrace. Tender and gentle, a stark contrast to Kason’s strong and passionate. “God, I missed you,” he mumbles against my lips before taking another kiss. But he senses my rigidness and loosens his hold on me. “Are you all right?” I take a step back on wobbly knees and sit down on the bed. “Ady?” I look into his eyes, and my whole body begins trembling. He takes a seat next to me and holds my hand. “You’re shaking.” With a deep breath and a prayer for courage, I say, “We need to talk.” His features harden in worriment of my tone. “About?” And when emotions boil to the surface, I crack on a broken voice, whispering, “I’m so sorry.” “What’s going on?” I shake my head, not wanting to do this, to own up to what I’ve done and to hurt him. “Ady, you need to talk to me.” “I am so sorry, Micah.” “Tell me what’s going on.” I fold in on myself and drop my head into my hands, too much of a coward to look him in the eyes when I tell him, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t” “What are you talking about?” I begin crying and then spear him with the first dagger. “I can’t marry you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and when I lift my head, I’m greeted with a look of utter disbelief. Micah then takes another scan of the room, and his expression worsens when he turns back to me. “Are you leaving?” “Micah—” “What the hell is going on, Ady? I mean, I get that shit is moving fast, but if you need us to slow down, then I swear to you, we’ll slow it down.” “It isn’t that.” “Then tell me what it is so I can fix it because I had no idea you were this unhappy.” “I’m not unhappy,” I tell him. “Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shift toward him and brace myself for the moment I’ve been freaking out over. “I lied to you. When we talked on the phone and you . . . you asked if this had anything to do with Kason. I lied when I told you no.” Horror strikes his eyes as they bore into me, and I instinctively reach for him when he stands, but he takes a few steps so he’s out of my reach. “Did something happen between you guys?” I stare in fear, knowing how badly the truth is going to hurt him, and I don’t utter a word. I only nod. His jaw tightens. “Did you sleep with him?” I lose control, and a weak sob bleeds out of me, and all I can say is, “I’m sorry.” “What the fuck, Ady?” His voice is pure gravel as he stalks across the room with an angry hand fisting his long hair. “So, let me get this straight. I go to California to find us a place to start our lives together and you’re fucking your ex-boyfriend?” “It isn’t like that.” “Then tell me what I’m fucking missing, because it sounds exactly what this is like.” I stand and walk over to him, but he’s entirely closed off from me. His breathing staggers in shock as I watch his soul fracture right in front of me. “I thought you loved me.” “I do,” I say with undeniable fervency. “I love you so much.” A tear swells and drips down his face. “You’re full of shit.” “I swear to you, I love you. I do. And you’ve done everything right, but . . .” “But what?” I take a hard swallow and brace myself when I admit, “But I love him, too.” His head begins to shake, and he turns away from me again, “So what is it? You love him more?” “It’s a different kind of love with him,” I try to explain, and when I step in front of

him, I continue, “It wouldn’t be fair to marry you when I feel this way about someone else. You deserve so much better than that.” “You’re all I fucking want!” he grits between his teeth as another tear rips down his face. He grabs my cheeks in his hands so hard it hurts. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted you!” He lets go of me with such force that I stumble back a few steps. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, and when he does, he asserts, “He’s going to hurt you. He’s done it before.” “Maybe so,” I tell him. The truth is, with his addiction, there’s a very good chance that he will hurt me. I can’t let that fear be the deciding factor in all of this, though. I know what I’m choosing to love. I’m choosing to love an addict. A sex addict. And I know it won’t be easy. Our path will be filled with road blocks and stumbles along the way. We might even crash and burn. But I love him. I love him from the marrow in my bones, from the breath my soul feeds from. He’s my everything. I then take a step closer to Micah. “The thing is, the chance of him hurting me is a probability. But the chance of me hurting you is a certainty, because you’re never going to be okay spending a life with me, knowing that I feel this way about another man. I love you too much to lie to you or to pretend that I don’t have these feelings.” Sadness rumbles in my chest, and I have to take another deep breath to calm it. “And I love you. There is no arguing that. You saved me, and I owe you everything for that, but I can’t give you my life when my heart feels this way. I have to listen to what it’s telling me.” “So that’s it? Just like that? After all these years and everything we’ve been through . . . it’s just . . . over?” Looking down at the beautiful ring he gave me, I slip it off my finger. “I don’t want it,” he chokes out painfully. “I can’t keep it.” I hold it out for him, and he stares right past it and into my eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.” “I don’t want to lose you, either,” I weep. “But I have to go.” “Now? You won’t even give me one more night?” “I can’t do that to you, Micah. Because in the morning, my decision is still going to be the same.” He closes the gap between us, taking my face back in his hands, but this time, they hold me tenderly. His eyes shine brightly behind devastating tears. There’s no possibility of doubting our love any more than there is a possibility of erasing it. We’re stained in it, and we will be forever.

“I love you,” he professes. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it. I’ll look past what you did with him. I’ll do whatever it takes.” With the tips of my fingers, I wipe his tears from his cheeks. “The thing is, maybe you can look past it, but I’ll never be able to. And I know that’s a horrible thing to say, but I can’t leave you with lies.” “Don’t do this.” “I swear to God above, you’re my angel. When I say you saved me, I mean it. You scooped up all my broken pieces and put me back together. You taught me how to trust again, and I will never forget how wonderful it felt falling in love with you.” I drop my head and cry as he pulls me against his chest. “I never thought we would come to this. And it kills me to walk away from you because I never wanted to hurt you.” “Don’t leave me.” Pulling back, I take his hand in mine, palm up, and give him back the ring. “You’re my best friend.” I close his fingers around the diamond. “I hope that one day, you’ll be able to forgive me for this.” I walk over to my nightstand and pick up my cell phone and car keys. “The movers will be here the day after tomorrow to clear out my room. Kate said she would be here if you couldn’t be.” I then walk back over to where he still stands, shattered to pieces. With silent tears streaming down both of our faces, I reach out one last time, slip my hand over his heart, and absorb its beats into my body. “Getting over you will probably be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do.” He then steps away from me, the ring drops to the floor, and he walks out of the room.



I sit idle in the judge’s chambers while he looks at the court calendar to reschedule a hearing for one of Cheryl’s clients. I’ve been assisting her with various cases lately, of which several are being overseen by this particular judge. He suggests a date, and Cheryl looks at me while I check her calendar on the iPad. “Yeah, we can do that.” “Well then, that’s settled,” Judge Watson says as he types the hearing into the court schedule. “By the way, have you been able to settle the McDeary versus Clark case you were here on last week?” “Not yet, Your Honor, but I think we are close to a resolution.” “How far apart are the two parties?” Cheryl stuffs a file into her briefcase, answering, “Not too far off. Like I said, I’m hoping we can settle in the next two weeks.” The judge then dismisses the two of us, and as we exit the courthouse, I pull out my cell to find another missed call from Adaline. “You want to go grab some dinner?” Cheryl asks as I shove the phone back into my suit pants. She’s been trying to play it casual with me all day, but I know how close she and Adaline are, so I have no doubt she knows what happened between me and her daughter the other night. “I’m not hungry.” It was just yesterday, only a few hours after I dropped her off at her mother’s house, that she texted me to let me know she was flying back to Miami. I never responded, and I haven’t taken any of her calls since. What’s the point? I get it, she feels guilty, but I don’t need to hear whatever apology she has for me. I knew better than to open myself up to her

again. To let myself think I even stood a chance against Micah. That girl is my fucking Eden. She always has been. So, it isn’t surprising that I couldn’t resist her. But the last thing I need is the knife being dug in deeper while I listen to her apologize for something I feel absolutely no regrets for. Maybe that makes me an asshole, to feel as if I’m entitled to her when she belongs to someone else, but I never claimed to be a man of virtue. Cheryl grabs my arm and stops me when we get to her car. “Kason, we’ve been in court all day. Are you really not hungry or do you just want to be alone?” She calls me on my shit every time. “Both.” I can tell she wants to say something, but she refrains, instead, clicking her key fob and unlocking the doors. She drives us back to the office, and when she pulls into the spot next to my SUV, she asks, “Have you talked to her since she left?” “What’s there to talk about?” I grab my work bag and open the door. “Kason—” “We should probably go back to not talking about her,” I say before closing the door. I drive off before she does, feeling too restricted in this suit. I speed back to my place, change clothes, jerk off, and go for a run. I’ve been living in isolation for so long, but for a brief moment, with Adaline back, it felt as if I was among the living again. And now, in a matter of a day, I’m dead again. It’s crazy to think how much power that girl possesses in her tiny body. How, without having to do a thing, she was able to bring me back to life. I run along the water and pass the Tampa Riverwalk as the sun begins to set. I then head over to David Island before making the loop back to my place. An hour later, I’m winded, sweaty, and in need of a shower. I stand under the spray as my mind drifts to the night before last. Visions of having Adaline back in my bed play so vividly behind my closed lids, and before I know it, I’m getting myself off, not just once, but twice. I step out of the shower, and she’s naked, sitting on the sink top. I walk into my bedroom, and she’s in my bed, moaning my name. I quickly toss on a pair of shorts and head out into the living room to find her there on my couch. She’s everywhere I turn and all over my loft. Fuck, I miss her. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I down the bottle, toss it, and get another. I take it to the living room and click on the television, desperate to get her out of my head. But it’s a wasted effort. She lives in my blood that’s constantly being recycled through my heart. It aches with every pump of life it courses through me, reminding me of what I don’t have as she kisses my veins from the inside. I shut the television off and toss the remote. The sky is black, and my skin tingles in corrosion. Stress always amplifies my cravings, but nothing will ever compare to the high I get every time I’m with Adaline. She’s a goddamn paradigm of transcendence, and I

know I’ll be forced to go through life in constant search for the next best fix, knowing everything will always fall short to her. After finishing the last of my beer, I crawl into my bed without getting under the sheets that still smell like her and grab my dick. I close my eyes and go back to the other night when she spread herself over my lap and fucked me so slow I nearly splintered from the pleasure. Her small hands pressed down on my chest as she rode me. “Fuck.” My voice strangles as I come on my stomach, my body jerking a few times as my muscles constrict around the fleeting high that dies a quick death, leaving me needier than before. It’s a vicious cycle that holds me captive in its cage of euphoria and shame. Walking into the bathroom, I clean myself off and throw my shorts back on while feeling like the biggest piece of shit—devaluing Adaline as my private personal porn. My gut coils, but my hard-on screams to go again, and like the weak bastard I am, I give in before giving up on the night and going to bed. Sleep doesn’t find me as I toss and turn. My body is on fire, keeping me restless as urgency spits its kerosene through my bloodstream. I go to battle with myself, so desperate for sex but terrified it’ll erase what’s left of Adaline’s touch on my skin. The very skin that’s being licked by acid, but I need to extinguish the burn. Ripping the sheets off me, I sit on the edge of the bed in so much pain because I refuse to touch myself in hopes my body will settle, even though I know it won’t. I throw my fist into my thigh and grit my teeth with a guttural hiss of frustration. I bear down for as long as I can before I throw in the towel and admit defeat to my addiction that wins every time. It screams for my love, giving me no other choice but to embrace it, because it’s too excruciating to deny it. After it satisfies me, it turns on me, spitting in my face and reminding me what a low piece of shit I am. No matter how low it drops me, no matter how fucked up it is, it’s the one relationship that remains. It’s me and my addiction. Picking up my cell phone, I scroll through my contacts before landing on Amber, a curvy red-head with self-esteem that sits just low enough that she’s willing to sleep with a decrepit like me. My finger hovers above the call button, and as soon as I tap it, there’s a frantic knock on my door. I ignore it and wait for the call to connect. “Hello?” “Hey, it’s Kason.” Another knock distracts me, and I wish whoever it is would just leave, but they don’t. “Hold on, some asshole is banging on my door,” I tell her. Standing, I run my hand over my dick that is already starting to soften, and when I go the door and open it, I swear my heart seizes. Adaline stands in front of me with a splotchy face and red eyes, looking beyond broken.

“What are you doing here?” She exhales deeply through the exhaustion clearly weighing her down and says the words that catapult my heart back into rhythm. “I left him.” Without missing a beat, I toss the phone aside and gather her into my arms. Her body slacks against mine, and she begins weeping quietly. Pulling her into the room, I kick the door shut as she clings to me. I hold her just as tightly, terrified to ever let go of her again. “I love you, Kason. I’ve always loved you.” Her words knock the wind out of my lungs, and I would think this were a dream if it weren’t for her hot tears dripping down my abs. I drop my cheek to the top of her head and breathe her in so deeply that, when I finally exhale, I can taste her on my tongue. Taking the sides of her face in my hands, I pry her away just enough for me to look into her eyes, and it’s then that I see everything I’ve ever hoped for. It’s fucking love. “I tried calling you.” “I’m sorry,” I breathe in regret now that I know the reason. “I just assumed you were calling to apologize for what happened between us. I couldn’t face another rejection from you.” She reaches up and touches my jaw, saying, “You’ll never have to,” before pulling me to her lips. I kiss her—open and binding. I’m an avalanche heart, falling into her without restraint, and she gives it right back to me. She’s breathless and unyielding as she throws her arms around my neck, and when I pick her up, I take her over to the couch and set her down. Our lips finally part, but I refuse to let her out of my arms. “I’m sorry, Kason,” she whispers. “I thought I needed space and time to think, but I didn’t. As soon as you sped away, I knew it was you that I couldn’t live without. I had to go home, though. I had to end things with Micah the right way.” “So it’s over?” “I should’ve never walked away from you in the first place. But I promise you, I’m going to give you all of my love. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or that you aren’t loved. I’ll never shut you out again.” She kisses me softly before adding, “I need you to be patient with me, though. Leaving Micah wasn’t easy on me, and I’m going to need time to heal.” As much as I hate that her heart is aching from the loss of another man, I will give her exactly what she’s asking for. I’m the one she’s handing that heart over to. Once again, she trusts me to take care of it, and I will guard it with my damn life. “I’ll give you whatever it is you need.” She nods, and I lift her chin, kissing her gently as her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer to her. Lifting on my knees, I lay her back and settle myself between her warm thighs. Her heart thumps against my chest, and I’m comforted by the fact that, this time,

after we make love, she won’t have to feel any guilt. “I don’t want to know a life without you again,” I tell her as I drop kisses down her neck, licking the sweetness of her skin. “You won’t ever have to.” With that, we take our time peeling back all the layers between us until we’re skin on skin. My lips fall all over her body, and hers fall all over mine as we love each other the only way we know how—intimately and wholly. Her ragged little gasps fill the room as I lose my mind between her legs. She grabs fistfuls of my hair and holds me close to her as her thighs tremble against my head. And when we can’t hold back anything longer, she pulls me up to her. I kiss her deeply, and she moans into my mouth, tasting what I taste. Her hand slips down between our bodies, and when she takes me in her palm, my dick pulses and leaps in her grip. Slowly, she guides me inside her, and I don’t dare rush as I sink into the purest love I’ve ever known. We breathe our profound I love yous as I take her in long, deep strokes, and when her body falters, she grips her hands around my biceps. Like perfection, her eyes swim out of focus as she ruptures in a trembling orgasm. She’s so fucking beautiful as her fingers bite into my muscles and her moans come out in fractured pieces. Her body writhes into mine, and with heat radiating through me, my muscles constrict and spasm, and I lose myself, spilling into her. It’s in this very moment that I make her the same promise I made to her when we were teenagers, panting, “I will love you until the sun dies.” She wraps her body around mine, hooking her ankles and keeping me inside her as I collapse. We stay like this, kissing and saying things that distance prevented us from saying, and when I begin to harden again, I take her into my room where we spend the rest of the night making up for all the heartbreak we’ve had to endure to get to this point. We find ourselves slipping in and out of sleep, only waking when our bodies crave the connection we’ve been missing for so long. Then we fall back into satiated dreams. Sun blinds me when I eventually wake up. I take a glance at my watch to find it’s already ten in the morning. Looking over, I see a peaceful Adaline still sound asleep and curled against me. I shift in the bed, and her body subconsciously reaches for me. I smile, and wrap her up in my arms. The morning light spills over her naked skin, and I’m in disbelief that I have her back. That she actually came back to me when I thought I had lost her forever. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her, but the fear that I’ll fuck this up somehow is still very relevant. Knowing that she chose me despite this sick addiction of mine. That she made this decision without any promise on my end that I would get help shows me just how amazing she is. That she would sacrifice a life with Micah—a life I would assume would be much easier than a life with me—tells me everything. She came back for me, knowing very well how badly I’m still suffering, choosing to love me in all the good, bad, and ugly that consumes me. There was no, “If I come back, you need to get help.” She simply came back, asking for nothing in return but my love.

There’s no way I’m fucking this up. There’s no way I’m going to risk losing her. I didn’t have a motivator before. There was never a desire to seek help until this very moment. I owe this girl the world, and I’ll do whatever I can to give it to her. Planting my lips on her forehead, I give her a still kiss before easing myself out of the bed, careful not to wake her. When I step out of the room, I close the door behind me and pull on the pair of shorts that are on the floor from last night. I retrieve my phone and take a seat at the kitchen bar top where my laptop is. A wave of nausea comes over me, but I fight past it because Adaline is worth everything I’m terrified to face. I then open the lid to the computer and type “sex addiction treatment” into the search bar.



I stir, unwilling to open my eyes just yet as the sleepy fog in my head begins to dissipate. Rolling onto my back, I stretch my legs and yawn. When I do finally open my eyes, I find myself alone. Grogginess hangs on to me, and I groan against tired muscles as I sit up. There’s a tenderness between my legs that only Kason can create, and after the immense anguish of yesterday, there’s a sliver of peace that finds its home in my heavy heart. I can hear his voice in the other room, but it’s only a quiet mumble, not loud enough for me to make out anything he’s saying. No other voice can be heard, so I assume he must be on a call. I slip out of bed and go to the restroom to freshen up. I use his toothbrush and then finger comb my hair before going back into his room to find a T-shirt that hangs low enough to cover myself since my underwear is somewhere in his living room. Opening the door, I step out and see Kason sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, and something doesn’t feel right. “Kason?” He looks up at me with tears falling down his face. There’s fear in his eyes, and I can see his hands shaking, causing my pulse to kick up a notch. “What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with jitters when he says, “I made an appointment.” I have no clue what he’s talking about, so I take a step closer to him, asking, “An appointment?” “I found a psychiatrist who deals with . . . people like me.” “Oh my god,” I mutter in absolute shock as I walk over and take a seat next to him. I never expected him to do something like this. I mean, I’ve mentioned it a couple of times, but I never truly thought he would take the first step. I hold his clammy, trembling hands in mine, realizing now that it’s his whole body

racking. “I’m scared shitless.” “It’s okay.” His hands then clench around mine, and there’s no doubting how terrified he is to face this. “I can’t do this on my own. I already want to cancel the appointment.” “You don’t have to do this on your own,” I assure him, wishing I could do something more to soothe his panic. “I’m here with you, and we’ll do this together if that’s what you need.” “What if I can’t be fixed?” I watch a tear fall down his face. “You say that as if you’re broken.” He drops his head and lets go of a tense breath, not believing my words. “Look at me,” I request, and when he does, I tell him again, “You are not broken; you’re just a little sick. But I need you to believe me when I say that there is no man more beautiful than you. Even with all your scars and the immense pain that you carry, you are still perfection. You make my heart beat wildly, and I can’t imagine my life going on without you.” I then press my lips to his, tasting fear and uncertainty, and when I pull back and look into his eyes, I see my purpose in life. “You were made to be healed and loved by me.”

(Three Years Later)



“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” I double-check my desk drawers to ensure I have everything packed as I peer at Cheryl from under my brows. This woman has been giving me all sorts of shit ever since I accepted the job at the State Attorney’s Office—the job she helped me get—and gave her my resignation. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” “You’re switching teams on me.” Sitting on the edge of my desk, she gives me a serious look, but I know she’s proud of me. “I’m going to miss working with you.” I pull the last book off the shelf and toss it into the box. “Are you sure you aren’t relieved? You’ve spent the better part of the last seven years up my ass, barking orders at me.” She laughs, and when I pick up the box, she follows me out to my car. I’ll never be able to thank Cheryl for everything she’s done for me. Without her, I doubt I would be where I am today. I graduated law school four months ago and just recently passed the bar exam. And now here I am, moving on to my new job working as an assistant prosecutor in the special victims’ unit. With everything that’s happened to Adaline, I knew this was my calling in life. It’s everything I set out to accomplish, but it didn’t come easy. It’s been a constant uphill battle in more ways than one. I shove the box into the back of the SUV and close the hatch. “If you ever want to come back to the defense side . . .” Shaking my head, I pull her in for a hug. “Thank you. For everything.” “All I did was give you a little job. It was you who spun it into a career.” She draws

back, adding, “You earned every bit of this on your own.” “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” Her smile grows. “I can’t tell you how proud I am.” After one more hug, I hop into my SUV and head back to the loft that I now share with Adaline. These past three years haven’t been the easiest. We’ve been tested so many times, but through everything we’ve overcome and even the things we are still working on, we’ve remained committed to each other. The hardest battle of all has been my addiction. I’ll never forget that first appointment with my doctor. I was a mess, but Adaline was by my side. She sat with me on that couch as I owned up to my problem and asked for help. Up until that point, the only person who ever knew my secret was Adaline, and to tell another person did a number on me. I was a wreck. And I was so scared, having no clue what my treatment would even look like. One thing my psychiatrist stressed was her concern with my relationship with Adaline. At the time, I wanted to tell her to fuck off when she told me we needed to take things slow and not to let myself become consumed with her. That my treatment had to come before anything else, including Adaline. I remember sitting in my loft with her, begging her not to leave me alone, begging her to move in and stay with me, knowing I’d never be strong enough to restrain myself. She did stay that first night, but then she moved in with her mother until she found a place of her own. Not out of any anger or unwillingness to help me the way I wanted her to, though. She did it because that was what the doctor said I needed. That first month was horrendous. I wasn’t allowed to jerk off or have sex and had to focus my energy on what was triggering my sexual thoughts. There was to be no more porn, sex chat rooms, live sex webcams, hookup apps, strip clubs, and everything else my life had become consumed by. I knew I would fuck up, and I did. My doctor immediately put me on an anti-depressant even though I wasn’t depressed. Apparently, they can sometimes suppress a person’s sex drive. In addition to my weekly therapy sessions, I also started cognitive behavioral therapy so that I could learn how to cope with my triggers and learn refocusing techniques. For a while, I also did sessions with Adaline. It was a very dark time in my life. I screwed up often, unable to resist my compulsions. Sometimes, I would drown in utter binges of uncontrollable masturbating, and other times, I would find myself on my knees, begging Adaline for sex. She always held strong, though, picking me up and refusing to let me spiral. I wanted to give up, but Adaline never let me. Stepping away from my sexual behaviors made me feel so empty. Removing the addiction created a vacant hole inside me, and I didn’t know how to fill it. Up until that point, my cravings ruled over me, and when I took that control back, I had no idea what to do with myself. Adaline and I struggled a lot as I adjusted to this new way of life—a life I had never experienced. I was scared and lost and extremely unhappy.

She never wavered, though. It took a long time to come through it. So many ups and so many downs, mixed in with countless relapses I thought I’d never find my way out of. But it wasn’t just hard on me, Adaline has suffered, too. Nights of endless crying mixed with her breaking down and screaming, “I hate this addiction! I hate what it’s doing to you!” More than anything, I hated what my addiction was doing to her. Days aren’t so dark anymore. Not that I’m cured. There is no curing any addiction. And with this particular one, there’s no going sober. It isn’t like an alcoholic who gives up drinking. My addiction is sex—an addiction that I have to indulge in. It hasn’t been easy, and Adaline and I have worked hard to find a healthy balance with how often we engage intimately with each other so that I don’t lose control. But I still lose control, just not as often as I used to. Through it all, I’ve never once cheated. I never thought I’d be able to manage a longterm, monogamous relationship. I doubted myself often, but it turns out, sex addicts can be faithful. It’s been a painful journey, one that will follow me throughout my whole life. There’s no way I’d be where I am today if it weren’t for Adaline. When she promised to fight this battle with me, she wasn’t lying. She’s been there through the trenches, in my moments of failure, and during my times of self-destruction, giving me hope that all is not lost and reminding me of how far I’ve come. After two years of treatment and taking our relationship slow, we decided it would be a good time for her to move in with me. We’ve been living together for a year now, and words can’t express how happy I am that we took our time. That we didn’t rush. Taking that next step in merging our lives was what gave me the focus to keep going. When I walk into the loft, I call out to Adaline, but she isn’t here. Me: Where are you?

I go into the bedroom and change into shorts and a T-shirt. Adaline: At the pool, watching the sunset. Hurry up. It’s almost gone.

I take the elevator up to the rooftop pool and find Adaline reclined back on one of the lounge chairs. She smiles, and my heart quiets as it does every time I see her. She’s still wearing the same dress she left for work in this morning. When she moved back to Tampa, it took her a while to figure out what she wanted to do. Eventually, she landed a job at one of the top advertising firms here in the city, where she specializes in media planning and social media marketing. When she sits up, I slip in behind her and then pull her back against my chest. “How much time do you have off until you start the new job?” she asks as she stares into the horizon. “A week and a half.” She twists between my legs and looks up at me with a soft grin. I remember the night I told her that I had accepted the job in the special victim’s unit. She cried, and as I wiped

her tears, she thanked me. After so many years of feeling worthless, in that moment, she made me feel as if I was the most important person in this world. I run my fingers through her long blonde hair. “What’s that look for?” “I was just up here thinking about how crazy life is.” She exhales a breathy giggle. “I can still remember my first day of school and how I tried playing it cool when we crashed into each other.” “That was you playing it cool?” I tease, and she pinches my ribs in loving retaliation. “Any regrets?” I ask on a more serious note. Her eyes drop from mine, and when they reach me again, she murmurs, “A few.” She then sits up, and she looks so beautiful with the sun glowing behind her, illuminating her as if she were an angel—maybe she is. “There is one thing I’m certain of, though. There hasn’t been a single day that I regret my decision to come back to you.” “How can you say that with all the shit I’ve put you through?” “Because the only life I want, is any life with you.” I take her face in my hands and look into her eyes that have seen me at my absolute lowest. There were a few times I told her to run even though I never truly wanted to lose her, but she never did. Bringing her in, I kiss her, tasting a life I never thought existed for a guy like me, a life filled with the promise of hope. She smiles against my lips, breathing into my mouth, “I love you.” The moment I swallow those words, I’m overcome with the power they hold in a way I’ve never felt before. It takes me by surprise, and when I pull back, I see what I’ve always seen—my everything, but somehow it feels more profound than ever before. I’ve always needed her in a way I’ve never been able to articulate. She says I’m soul-consuming, but she has it all wrong. It’s her. It always has been. I feel the same way she does. The only life I want is a life with her. “Marry me.” Her eyes widen in shock, and this time, it’s me who doesn’t waver. “Marry me,” I say again as I watch tears fill her eyes and a smile spread upon her lips. “Show me just how good life can be.” Her expression turns from shock to excitement as she begins giggling when she says with unbounding joy, “Of course I’ll marry you.”

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A story of forbidden love and the unimaginable consequences that come with it.

3:12pm ONLY THREE MORE MINUTES LEFT of my junior year. Three more minutes to go until summer begins. “I can’t wait to officially be a senior,” Linze says, twirling a lock of her golden hair from the desk next to mine. “I know. It’s gonna be great.” “I need to find a boyfriend before the end of summer though. There’s no way I’m starting senior year as a singleton.” “A relationship is not what you want, and you know it.” She rolls her eyes and laughs in agreement. “Let me rephrase that, I need to find a boy to kiss on who’s loyal to me and only me.” We both laugh.

Most people find her spitfire personality over the top, but not me. Linze and I have been best friends since middle school when her family moved here from Los Angeles. She was born with sunshine in her blood, while I was born with red dirt in mine. Oklahoma, America’s heartland where nothing exciting ever happens, has been my home since birth. The day Linze arrived was the day this state notched up on the coolness meter. “Sit down, boys,” Mrs. Lancaster groans from behind her plastic-rimmed glasses, which sit crooked on her face. Our teacher, whose expiration date has come and gone, still shows up loathing each day more than the one before. “High school guys are so annoying,” Linze says about the kids at the back of the class who are making a ruckus. I tune out the obnoxious testosterone behind me and turn back to my friend. “What time do you want me to head over tonight?” “Whenever. Sooner rather than later though.” “Okay. Well, I’m going to hit the water for a little while and get some laps in.” “You never quit, do you?” Smiling, I grab my backpack from the back of my desk as the second hand nears the end of its final rotation to freedom. An eruption of cheers and exasperated “Thank Gods” bounce off the painted cinder block walls when the final bell of the year rings. Chairs and desks screech against the tile floors as students flee the classrooms. Linze and I weave through the crowded halls, and I’m whisked off my feet in an instant. “Seniors, baby!” Kroy boasts loudly, sparking excitement within me. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I smile at his boyish charm before kissing him as the student body swarms around us in total chaos. “This is why I need a boyfriend,” Linze shouts over the crowd. “You two are disgustingly perfect.” Kroy plants me down on my feet. “What’s got your panties in a wad, Linz?” “Don’t get her started,” I tease. “Long story short, the girl needs to get laid.” Linze shoots me a snarky eye. “Oh my God! For a virgin, you sure talk like a slut.” “Don’t worry. You’ll surely find a boy to kiss on tonight.” “Party at your place, right?” Kroy says as he walks with me tucked under his arm. “Yep! I gotta run though. Call me when you’re on your way, okay?” Before I can respond, Kroy cups my face in his hands and backs me up against the lockers, mumbling between kisses, “Maybe we can fix that virginity problem tonight.” Nudging his ribs, I playfully try to push him away, but his large frame doesn’t budge until he glances to his left.

“Coach Hale,” he acknowledges in an even tone, taking a step away from me. “How are you doing, sir?” “Do I need to reiterate the school’s policy on PDA?” “No, sir. Just a celebratory peck was all that was going on.” “Dad,” I groan under my breath. “Why are you always giving him a hard time?” “Because you’re my little girl. It’s my job to harass your boyfriend.” “The shotgun wasn’t enough harassment?” Kroy questions, to which my father responds, “Not even close, boy,” before clapping his hand on the back of Kroy’s shoulder and letting loose an endearing chuckle. Kroy grew up down the street from me. He used to pick on me when we were younger, but that didn’t stop us from playing. Our families have always been close, and it came as no surprise to my mother when he eventually asked me out on a date our sophomore year. My dad, on the other hand, had a bit of a hard time with the idea and made sure to be cleaning his shotgun when Kroy came over to pick me up for our first date. I know that behind my father’s intimidations, he holds a great deal of respect for Kroy, so I don’t worry. “What’s this party I’ve been hearing about?” “Just a party,” I tell my dad, throwing an innocent smile behind my words. When your dad is a history teacher at your high school as well as the head swim coach for the team you swim on, nothing is secret. He hears it all, which is why I make sure to fly under the radar and keep my reputation intact. Not that I have anything to hide. I’m just your typical seventeen-year-old. I’m an A student, have lots of friends, and I keep out of trouble for the most part. Like I said, nothing major really happens in this town. “Is there going to be alcohol at this party?” “Kroy, help me out here.” “Your boyfriend can’t save you from my interrogations, sweetheart.” “Then tell me what will, because my junior year just ended, and you’re kinda putting a damper on my mood.” “Coach Hale!” echoes from down the hall from a couple guys on the swim team who are pumping their fists in celebration as they clear out of the school. “I don’t seem to be dampening their mood,” he defends with a boastful smile. “You’re not their dad.” “Don’t worry, sir. She’ll be with me, and I promise nothing will get out of hand,” Kroy interjects. “She’s my princess—” “O-M-G. You are so embarrassing!” I exclaim, tossing my head back in loving annoyance as I start to back step away. “I’ll call you later, Kroy.”

“Where are you off to?” “The pool,” I tell him before looking to my dad. “Come get me when you’re ready to go.” “The new coach was here earlier, but I think he might have already left and locked up.” As he says this, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys. “Here.” “Thanks, Dad.” Keys aren’t needed when I find the doors unlocked. I look up to the small office that overlooks the pool and spot a guy who must be the new assistant coach. He sees me and steps out to the top of the stairs. “Can I help you with something?” “I’m going to get in a quick swim.” “I’ll be locking up in a bit.” “Coach Hale is my dad,” I tell him. “I rode with him today. Figured I’d get in some laps while I wait for him to finish up in his classroom.” He leans his elbows on the railing. “So, you’re Cam?” I nod. I can’t help but to stare. He’s years younger than my dad and has perfectly styled, thick brown hair. His T-shirt and gym shorts wrap nicely around his tanned, athletic-cut body. “Holler if you need anything. I’m just finishing up some paperwork before I head out.” He walks back into the office as I make my way into the girl’s locker room. While I change into my drag suit, the murmurings of a few girls catch my attention. Apparently, the new coach has fulfilled the embodiment of their schoolgirl fantasy come true. There’s no denying his good looks and physique, but the guy’s gotta be in his thirties. My dad has had the same assistant for the past six years, but Coach Barlow’s wife just had a baby, and they decided to move to St. Louis to be closer to her family. I really liked Coach Barlow. He and my dad led us to more wins than I can count, including my holding the school’s record for the fifty-yard sprint. Swimming has always been my thing, and something my dad and I have always been able to share. He spent his high school years in the water and went on to swim for the University of Oklahoma on partial scholarship. I’m a daddy’s girl through and through. We’ve always held a special bond, which is different from the relationship I have with my mom. I guess every child has that something special with one of their parents. Not that my mother and I don’t get along. We absolutely do. But with my father, there’s this indefinable connection. I just don’t look at him; I look up to him. I’m a sprinter just like he was. I not only hold the school’s record time for my division, but also the state’s as well.

Call it an obsession. Everyone else does. But I don’t care Team sports have never appealed to me. It’s knowing that I am the one who holds all the power to win or lose without having to rely on anyone else to carry any of the weight. No one can let me down but me, and when victory comes my way, which it often does, I know it’s mine and only mine. In the water, I’m at battle with myself. Even though girls swim on either side of me, eager to take what I strive to claim as my own, I’m alone. Nothing exists in the water but my will to beat my last best. Time outside the water no longer exists when I dive in. I glide above the black stripe beneath me that guides me through my laps. The burn in my shoulders spirals through my muscles and down my arms, warming me into euphoria. This is my high—my drug of choice. No one can take this rush away from me. I ride it out until the fire in my lungs becomes too much for me to tolerate, and I break through the water’s barrier to find Coach Andrews on deck above me. “Good times for an afternoon swim.” He offers me his hand and helps me out of the pool. Taking the towel I left on the deck, I dry off. He watches me closely as he takes a seat on a block. “I thought your father was exaggerating the truth when he was bragging about you. Clearly, I was wrong.” I wrap the towel around myself. “You’re Coach Andrews?” “I am, but you can call me David,” he remarks. “After everything your father has told me about you this past week, I feel like we could be old family friends.” “Oh, God,” I moan with the onslaught of mortification. Lord only knows what my dad told this man. “Don’t worry. He didn’t say anything that would embarrass you too much.” He chuckles under his breath, and the smile creases the skin at the corners of his eyes, making something inside me flutter. “That doesn’t sound convincing.” “He’s proud. And he should be with a daughter who can pull a fifty-yard free in twenty-three point two one.” “I heard Tulsa got an out-of-state transfer a couple weeks ago,” I say as I take my swim cap off. “Held a record in Arizona at twenty-three point two nine.” He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. “You worried?” “Dad hasn’t mentioned her to me, so yeah, I’m a little worried. I mean, next year is the year.” “He probably didn’t mention it because he sees no reason to. You’re the state record

holder. Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be fine.” I look at him wearily, and his smile widens. “You worry too much. It’s the last day of school, and here you are in the pool, stressing about next year’s competition when you should be out doing whatever it is you kids do.” “And what about you?” I accuse in jest. “Shouldn’t you be out doing whatever it is you teachers do?” “You’re right.” He hops down from the block. “Go hit the lockers so I can lock up behind you.” “No need to wait. I have my dad’s keys.” He takes a step toward me and rests his hand on my shoulder, igniting my skin in some unknown electricity. “Do me a favor, will you? Have fun this summer. Swim, but make sure to have some fun.” I give him a nod and watch him like a punch-drunk teenager with a maddening crush as he walks out the double doors. Once dressed, I run up the stairs to the office to call my dad’s classroom from the school’s phone. I dial his room number and see that Coach Andrews left his portfolio on the desk. “Coach Hale.” “Hey, Dad. How much longer till you’re ready to go?” “Five minutes.” “Okay, I’m on my way now.” Grabbing the notebook, I sling my backpack over my shoulder before heading out and locking up. “How was your swim?” my dad asks as I walk into his classroom. “Good.” I hold up the portfolio. “Coach Andrews left this in the office.” “You met him?” “Yeah. He’s nice.” “Is he already gone?” I nod. As we head out, Dad calls his cell, gets his address, and tells him we’ll stop by his house to drop off the notebook. We pull out of the parking lot, which is nearly empty at this point, and I turn in my seat. “Hey, Dad?” “Hmm,” he acknowledges, turning the car out to the main road. “I was wondering if you would consider extending my curfew tonight.” “Nothing good happens past eleven o’clock.”

I roll my eyes. “Nothing good happens ever, Dad.” “Then why do you want to stay out?” “Because it’s my last summer before senior year. Because I want to hang out with my friends. Because I deserve it. Because I make straight As. Because I never get into trouble. Because you can trust me.” I give him an exaggerated smile when we come to a stop at a red light before adding, “And because I’d never do anything to disappoint you.” “You know how much I love you, right?” “So, is that a yes?” He hesitates and then looks at me with just a hint of a smile. “You make a compelling argument, sweetheart.” “I learned from the best.” The light changes to green, and I keep my eyes fixed on my dad. His handsome face is marked by years of laughter. When I see a truck coming toward us, the lines etched around his eyes splinter into fractals that reflect a kaleidoscope of lights and colors. Tires squeal loudly, piercing my ears like needles. An explosion of glass detonates around us with a crashing so loud I feel the reverberations inside the depths of my chest. I can’t breathe. Everything moves in slow motion as metal shears its way off the car, screeching against the pavement as we are pummeled across the intersection. Fire spits its flames through my scalp when my head collides with glass, and I’m thrown through the passenger-side window. My dad blurs as distance grows, and the space between us is severed by a spray of glittering shards that sprinkle all around me like shooting stars through the blackened sky, lighting it only for a moment before they burn into nothingness. And then everything goes black. Secret Lucidity A forbidden romance novel Coming February 26, 2018 Pre-Order Today

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This duet has become so close to my heart. It wasn’t always the easiest to write and many tears were shed during the process. My goal was to write a truthful and respectful story about sex addiction. Along with a massive amount of research, I have to thank to following people for helping me bring this story to life. To my fans, I cannot thank you enough for continuing to love my characters and support my stories. Your loyalty means the world to me. The greatest joy is being able to open my heart and share what’s inside with you. To my husband, none of this would be possible without you. I know I say that a lot, but it is so very true. You are my support, my best friend, my partner in crime for life. Thank you for all you sacrifice in order for me to follow this passion of mine. Sally Gillespie, you are one of my biggest blessings! The time you give me is simply incredible. Thank you for helping me in the creation of this story. It wasn’t always easy. We’ve laughed, we’ve cringed, and we’ve cried countless tears but you never let me give up. Ashley Williams, wow! Just WOW! How do I even thank you properly? The hours upon hours you have devoted to this book are downright incredible! You make my words strong, even though you bust my balls to do so. From the early mornings to the late nights, and everything in between, you are always there for me. You are an amazing editor and friend! Kylie Sharp, you know exactly why. Thank you for opening up to me. My sister, thank you for, once again, advising me on all the medical situations that arise in this story. We laugh way too much, but you always take the time to clarify and explain everything I need to know to create an accurate storyline. Bloggers, there are too many of you to name, but each and every one of you are equally important. Thank you for your undying support.

To the sex addicts who were brave enough to talk to me—the men who shall remain nameless. Thank you for sharing your stories with me and for answering all my questions. Sex addiction is highly misconstrued in the media, and it’s because of your honesty that I am able to use my platform to give truth to this, often misunderstood, addiction. You have softened my heart, and I pray for peace and strength for each one of you. You are stronger than what you give yourselves credit for. As always, when I end a story, I must turn to my characters and say the most heartfelt thank you of all. Adaline, you are selfless, strong, and courageous. I have learned a lot about the power of acceptance from you. Kason, my sweet Kason, you are boundless in strength, even at your weakest. You have overcome so much. I hope your story will impact others struggling with addiction of any kind. Micah, the savior, you’re a lifeline and a true friend—selfless and strong. One day, you will get your happy ending, and I hope to one day share that story with the world. Trent and Kate, you two brought me so much joy and laughter. I see your path—I feel it in my heart—and I will find a way to tell your tale in due time. Cheryl, you forced me to evaluate myself as a mother. My daughter may just be a wee kindergartener, but one day she will be a young woman. She is my favorite just as Ady is yours. You are compassionate, supportive, and you are always a mother first and a friend second. Thanks to each one of you!

BUY HERE THE FADING SERIES New Adult/Contemporary Romance Fading (book 1) Freeing (book 2)but I’m in love with you. You’re all I want Falling (book 3) AUTHOR ANONYMOUS Contemporary Romance SECRET LUCIDITY New Adult/Contemporary Romance THE BLACK LOTUS SERIES Dark Romance/Erotic Thriller Bang (book 1) Echo (book 2) Hush (book 3)