But then I had met a woman who had made it impossible for me to hold anything back. And now, here at rehab, struggling to make things work, all I wanted to do was draw it. To put out there all the things I couldn’t say. For the first time in my life, my art evolved. It was about me getting my head together. About focusing on what I was going to do with my life. How I could change for the better.

And I became sort of addicted to my art, like a placeholder for the drugs or something.

I smoothed the shadowed edge of the round cheek I had just drawn. My fingers caressed the lengths of long blond hair on the page. The picture was so accurate I could almost imagine Aubrey was here. In the flesh. It filled me with warmth to draw her. To paint her. To see her in my mind and to let my fingers create her. I could hold her close like this.

Forever.

I continued to smudge the line of Aubrey’s jaw I had just put on paper. If I closed my eyes, maybe I could pretend it was her. Delusions were my new best friend.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Pete asked, clearly not getting the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for company. I was trying really hard to keep my mind off the fact that I had asked Aubrey to come today and she had said no.

I closed the notebook and tucked it under my pillow.

“Nothing,” I remarked, getting to my feet.

“Where are you going? The garden is off-limits; that’s where visiting hours are being held today,” Pete told me, putting some authority in his voice.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” I walked past Pete, ignoring his continued attempts at conversation. The common room was empty. Either everyone had visitors, or those who didn’t were holed up, depressed, in their rooms. It sucked being one of the few people without anyone to see them. But I refused to feel sorry for myself. I had lived most of my life alone. What else was new?

Unfortunately for me, I had been given a taste of what it felt like to share your life with someone who loved you. And I had gravitated toward it. I had held on to it, crushing it in my hands. And ultimately I had destroyed it.

Now I was left with the memory of what might have been. And that was so much worse than not knowing it at all. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was already 2:00. Only one more hour and I could pretend that visiting day had never happened. At least until next week, when I was reminded once again that no one would be coming to see me.

“Maxx, there you are.”

I looked up to find Stacey standing in the doorway.

“You looking for me?” I asked, flipping the channels on the television, already cursing myself for choosing such an obvious place to hide out for the next hour.

“Yes! You have a visitor. She’s waiting out in the garden,” she said, waving a hand for me to follow her.

I sat there, staring at her like an idiot.

She’s waiting.

“What?” I asked, not quite believing her. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what she was saying. When I had been admitted to Barton House, I had put only two names on my allowed visitors list.

Aubrey Duncan and Landon Demelo.

That was it.

“Who is it?” I asked, almost scared of the answer I would be given.

“She said her name was Aubrey. We checked your file and she’s an allowed visitor. Is that okay? Are you all right with that?” Stacey looked at me with concern.

My heart thudded in my chest and for a moment I thought I might pass out.

Fucking hell, she came. I looked at Stacey, who was watching me closely. I knew she was waiting for me to freak the fuck out.

And she had every right to be worried, because I was feeling mildly hysterical. On the inside, of course.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, not sure I was telling the truth.

Aubrey had come.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I followed Stacey down the hall and out to the garden. I squinted in the bright afternoon sunlight and shivered in my thin T-shirt. Damn, I should have grabbed a coat. It was cold out here. And then I forgot about the cold. I forgot about the counselor who still stood beside me analyzing with her squinty eyes. Because there she was.

There was Aubrey.

My eyes drank in the sight of her. My senses were ravenous for her. And the gaping open wound in my heart oozed fresh.

She was looking down at her phone. Her long blond hair fell on either side of her face. I couldn’t see her expression, her hair obscuring her. But I could tell by her body language that she was uncomfortable. That maybe she didn’t want to be here at all.

I thought about turning around and walking back inside. That maybe as much as I wanted to be, I just wasn’t ready for all of this.

The sight of her set off a thousand urges I had been trying hard to suppress. The need for the drugs. The desire to lose myself in the soft waiting oblivion of a handful of pills. Anything to feel numb. But the loudest urge of all was the one that practically begged me to grab her and run far, far away. To forget all of this stupid rehab shit and to bury myself in her and never let go again.

“Are you all right?” Stacey asked, and I felt annoyed by the question. Fuck no, I wasn’t all right! I was losing my goddamned mind!

I nodded though and headed across the grass toward the table where the woman I loved sat oblivious to the insanity she had let loose inside me simply by showing up as I had asked her to.

She was still peering down at her phone when I approached the table. I pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. Finally she looked up and I could see her face for the first time. Her blue eyes widened as she took me in.

I knew what she saw. I had lost a lot of weight. Withdrawals will do that. My face had always been angular, but now my cheekbones were more pronounced. My hair was longer, almost hitting my collar. But at least I had lost the dark shadows that had always ringed my eyes, and the sallow pallor of my skin had disappeared.

“Hey,” she said softly, and the knot in my stomach loosened a bit.

“You came,” I said, smiling. I glanced down at her hands and saw that they were clenched tightly around her phone as if she would break it. She looked terrified. I wanted to reach out and take her hands but figured that would be pushing things. We weren’t together anymore. Aubrey wasn’t my girlfriend. I had no right to touch her, no matter how much I wanted to.

“I did. Though I’m not sure I should have,” she muttered, looking away. She fidgeted in her seat. Her anxiety was putting me on edge.

“Well, why did you?” I asked her pointedly, wanting to get past this awkward discomfort as quickly as possible.

“Because I needed to see you . . . one last time. You know, to make sure you were all right,” she said, rushing through her words as though they would bite her.

One last time . . .

I held my arms out. “Well, look away, Aubrey. Because I’m alive and breathing.” I wished I could curb the sarcasm, but her answer bothered me. What had I expected? Her to tell me she couldn’t stay away from me? That she had been wrong and wanted to be with me again? Had I really thought this would be our new beginning?

“You look . . . better,” Aubrey said, taking in my appearance. I wanted to know what she thought as she looked at me. I wanted to know whether when she saw me, she remembered everything as clearly as I did. I wanted to know if when she looked in my eyes she saw the man she loved or if she even felt that way toward me at all anymore.

“I guess so. I feel . . . better,” I responded.

She gnawed on the skin around her thumbnail, not making eye contact. “This place is nice. I always thought they were kind of like hospitals. Not like—”

“Hotels?” I filled in for her.

Aubrey shook her head. “Yeah. It’s very Holiday Inn.” She chuckled and then cleared her throat as if catching herself doing something she wasn’t supposed to.