Renee gave me a look but didn’t comment. When she left, Brooks and I continued on to the coffee shop. The place was heaving by the time we got there, full of students getting their dose of caffeine before class. We got in line and waited.

“I have a study group tonight; do you want me to come over afterward?” Brooks asked. I nodded absently, not really hearing him.

“Sure, sounds great,” I said, giving Brooks my attention and pushing away any twinges of misgiving brought on by too little sleep, not enough coffee, and a particular drawing in chalk gracing the gray pavement outside of my apartment.

“I’ll bring the new Nicolas Cage movie—it looks awesome,” Brooks continued, and I groaned playfully.

“Your Cage obsession is becoming concerning,” I quipped.

“No more concerning than any of yours,” he lobbed back. I smiled wanly at the barb, feeling its sting even if it hadn’t been calculated to hurt.

We approached the cashier, who knew us by name and began to punch in our orders before we could give them. Brooks and I had been coming most mornings for the past three years.

After we got our orders, Brooks and I left and stood on the path for a few minutes before we headed in opposite directions.

“There’s a party this weekend at Sigma Kappa. I thought you might want to go,” Brooks ventured, sipping on his coffee. I made a face. Brooks wasn’t in a fraternity, but he was friends with several of the brothers at the Sigma Kappa house.

I snorted. Brooks should know better.

“Why would you even ask that?” I gaped.

“Because I saw how much you ended up enjoying yourself this past weekend. Admit it, you had fun,” Brooks said, poking me in the side and making me squirm.

“Yeah, I guess,” I muttered, not needing to add that my perfectly enjoyable evening had been shot to shit once I got home. No sense in being Debbie Downer.

“So you see, mingling with society isn’t a bad thing. And maybe if you’re not sitting around your apartment all the damn time, you’ll stop moping about someone you shouldn’t be moping about.”

I drew myself upright. “I am not moping!” I stated firmly.

“But you can’t deny that you’re a bit antisocial,” he countered.

“And you can’t deny that you’re a bit of a dickhead,” I threw back.

Brooks laughed and reached out, pulling me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re the most awesome chick I know, Aubrey,” he said with genuine affection.

I felt my cheeks heat up and moved out of the shelter of his arms, remembering how easily I had used him to fill the gaping hole in my chest. I couldn’t use Brooks as a fill-in. It wasn’t fair. “So does that mean I’m off the hook, then?” I asked, my mouth quirking up into a smile.

“Come on, Aubrey. Pretty please with a beer keg on top?” He folded his hands together as he begged.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Ask me next week when I’m not feeling so mopey,” I joked, sticking my tongue out.

Brooks rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Fine, your loss. But I won’t give up,” he warned, and I felt a prickle of apprehension.

Not because of Brooks’s words per se, but because of similar ones spoken by someone else entirely.

“I have to get to class. I’ll see you later,” I said.

“I’ll see you this evening,” Brooks called out as he walked toward the library.

I started down the pathway toward the psychology building, when I felt someone come up close behind me.

Students were everywhere, but this particular presence had me feeling nervous.

And with good reason, apparently.

“Aubrey.”

My name, spoken in that familiar way, like a mixture of a curse and a prayer, made me feel uncomfortably weak in the knees.

Should I make a run for it?

It was too late. I was already stopping and turning around before I could think better of it.

“Maxx. You’re here,” I said blandly, as if I weren’t torn in two at the sight of him.

It had only been a little over a week since I had gone to the rehab facility, but somehow seeing him here, on campus, was so much harder. It felt wrong and familiar at the same time.

Maxx, the student, had always felt like such a contrast to the Maxx I had met in the support group and later the Maxx I knew at the club. He had been a man with many lives who lived in many different worlds. It had taken me a long time to reconcile myself to the person he was in each and how they all coexisted inside of the same body.

I stared at this Maxx and wondered which one he was. The look in his eyes reminded me of my Maxx. The man who loved me. But there was a tired vacancy that was reminiscent of that other Maxx. The one who had needed his drugs more than he had ever needed me.

Maxx rubbed his finger along the bridge of his nose and gave me a shy smile that was completely out of character. “Yeah, well, I have a meeting with my adviser. I had to withdraw from classes, you know, when I went into rehab. Now I’m hoping to sort out some summer-school classes and see how far behind I really am. I have a feeling I’m screwed no matter what I do,” he said matter-of-factly, without a hint of self-pity.

“That sucks, I’m sorry,” I replied lamely, not really knowing what I was supposed to say. It felt weird having random small talk with him like this.

Maxx kicked at a piece of gravel, and the surprisingly juvenile action tugged at my hardened heart. “Well, I only have myself to blame,” he said, putting his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

This time I didn’t respond. It wasn’t the time or place to have the conversation that statement warranted.

I nodded my head toward his jeans, which still showed traces of colored chalk at the knees.

“You’ve been busy,” I said, sounding irritated.

Maxx looked almost embarrassed.

“Yeah, well, when the muse strikes and all that,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes.

“And the muse struck outside my apartment building?” I questioned.

“It always brings me back to you, I guess,” he said softly, and my heart thumped wildly and threatened to explode out of my chest.

“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope,” Maxx murmured, almost under his breath.

Christ, Maxx was quoting Jane freaking Austen. I had to get out of there, and fast.

I cleared my throat and pulled my messenger bag farther onto my shoulder.

“I’d better get going,” I said, trying to sidestep him.

He reached out, his hand catching mine, his fingers loosely grasping. I startled at the contact. It was such an innocent touch, but I felt it in my bones.

“I told you last week that when I got out I hoped you wouldn’t shut the door in my face if I showed up. That drawing was my way of asking you if you would. If it was okay if I ended up there.”

My hand shook a bit as I pulled away from his hold.

“And I think it’s too soon to tell, Maxx. You need to focus on you. Not on me,” I told him sharply.

“What if I said there was no me without you?” he asked, chewing on his lip. An innocent movement that spoke volumes about his lack of confidence. I swallowed hard and clenched my hands into fists so I wouldn’t throw my arms around him. Or smack him in the face. The jury was still out.

“Then I’d tell you that it was time you figured out who you are on your own. That you can’t base your future on something that won’t happen. Because you and me, Maxx, we’re over. We have been for a while now.” I knew I didn’t sound as convincing as I wanted to. Damn it!

Maxx shook his head. “You don’t mean that. I won’t let you mean that.”

“You won’t let me?” I scoffed. “I don’t think you have much of a choice in the matter.”

“We always have a choice, Aubrey. And this time, mine is you. I know you need me to prove to you that things will be different. That I’m different. I also know it’ll take time. I’m going to work on being patient. And even though every fiber of my body wants to drag you back to my apartment where I can spend the entire day showing you exactly how much I love you, I’ll wait. Until you’re ready.” Maxx’s eyes heated and burned into mine. He reached out and softly stroked his finger along the length of my face, and I flinched. He dropped his hand instantly.