“And what exactly am I doing here?” I countered, knowing damn well my mother had no clue what my plans were for my future. She had never once asked me about what I wanted to do with my life. Those sorts of discussions had gone off the table once my sister’s casket had been lowered into the ground and the heart that had once loved both of her children had shriveled up and stopped feeling anything at all.

“Maybe that’s what we should talk about. You need to come home. Just for a few days. Your dad and I would like to see you.” There was a slight quiver in my mother’s voice that threw me. She sounded, for the briefest of moments, like the woman who had held me after my first breakup when I was fourteen. The woman who had cleaned my scrapes and tended my bruises. The woman who made me sausage gravy on homemade biscuits for breakfast every year on my birthday because it was my favorite.

But I couldn’t let myself be deluded into thinking she had changed. That maybe, just maybe, she was trying to be the mother I needed her to be once again. I had experienced enough crippling disappointment to last me one lifetime.

“I can hear about how I’m failing Jayme’s memory just as easily over the phone, Mom,” I said quietly, trying to speak around the lump in my throat.

My mother didn’t say anything for a while, which surprised me. I was prepared for a hateful comeback. I was on edge waiting for the next barb.

“Aubrey, we’re worried about you,” my mother said, her tone altering into something resembling concern. Which couldn’t be genuine. My mother had stopped expressing anything other than furious displeasure a long time ago.

“This thing with that boy in the support group, being almost kicked out of the program at school—it’s not like you,” she continued.

“And what do you know about what I’m like anymore, Mom? It’s not as though you have bothered to know anything about me in years!” I shouted, losing control of my emotions. I wasn’t used to having this sort of conversation with my mother. I didn’t know how to talk to her anymore.

“Stop yelling, Bre!” my mother snapped, and I was almost relieved to hear her usual irritation. This woman I could deal with. The concerned maternal act was one that I couldn’t stomach. Not now. Not when things were already so off-kilter.

“I’m not coming home. If there’s something you or Dad need to say, then say it to me now.” I sounded petulant, but I couldn’t help it. Clearly my mother brought out the best in me.

“Why do you have to make things so difficult?”

“I’ve got to go, Mom. I have a life to screw up,” I said, ending the call before we could spend any more time making each other miserable.

I threw the phone onto the couch and picked up a pillow, covering my face. I screamed as loud as possible into the plush fabric, letting it drown out the strength of my anger. After I had exhausted myself, I got to my feet feeling jittery and uneasy.

“I’m just one big, fucking mistake,” I muttered, grabbing my keys and leaving the apartment, knowing that if I stayed there I’d end up throwing stuff. And as much as I loved to clean, I had had enough of sorting through my impulsive actions.

I got into my car with no clear idea of where I was headed. I just needed to drive. To find a place where I could unwind.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I ended up outside of the Quikki Mart. The dark alleyway to the side that led to Maxx’s apartment was shadowed and ominous. In some strange way, I guess it made sense that I came here. This was the one place that I had been able to let go and be myself. To be loved by the only person to accept all of me. Despite the dark, complicated nature of my relationship with Maxx, his home was a place that I felt safe.

I put my car into park and was suddenly hit with a paralyzing thought.

What if . . . what if Maxx was home?

I hadn’t contemplated that during my mindless drive here. And now, sitting in my car outside of his apartment, I was itching to go inside . . . but I couldn’t stomach the thought of facing Maxx.

I imagined thick, blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Strong arms that so easily wrapped around me. Full lips that fit against mine perfectly. Everything about him was irresistible. Combustible. How would I ever be able to resist his magnetic pull?

Yet I impulsively got out of the car and walked down the narrow space between buildings and quickly climbed the staircase that led to the apartment door I had walked through so many times before.

The hallway smelled of stale urine and garbage. I could hear the thumping of club music from the apartment next door. I sorted through my keys until I found the one I had never given back.

I felt suddenly guilty for invading his space like this. To expect that my presence would be welcomed. How could I possibly explain showing up like this?

I’ll just stay for a moment. See if he’s okay. Then leave. No big deal. This is just about my closure. If I know what he’s up to, it’ll be easier to get over this huge bump in my road.

I didn’t want to acknowledge how delusional I sounded, even to myself.

Walking into the darkness of Maxx’s home was like a punch to the gut. I closed the door behind me and leaned back against the wall, trying to get my breathing under control.

Why had I come here?

Why would I do this to myself?

How could I ever make myself leave again?

I felt along the wall until I found the light switch and turned it on. Light flooded the small, cramped apartment and I put a fist to my mouth to stifle the sob that crept up my throat.

He wasn’t there. And by the looks of it, he hadn’t been there in a long time. Nothing had been touched in quite a while. The space felt empty, devoid of life. Like listening to the echo of the person who used to inhabit it. The wave of overwhelming disappointment almost brought me to my knees.

But honestly . . . what had I expected? What had I hoped to gain by unceremoniously walking into his apartment only weeks after telling him good-bye?

Maxx’s T-shirt was strewn across the back of the tattered couch. A Styrofoam cup sat on the coffee table. A plate with a half-eaten sandwich covered in something fuzzy sat beside it.

The air was ripe with the smell of rotten food. I slowly walked through the rooms, turning on lights as I went.

My heart tripped over in my chest as a realization hit me. If Maxx wasn’t here, then where was he?

Maybe he was visiting his brother. Or staying with friends.

Yeah, and maybe he ran away and joined the circus.

Each scenario seemed equally unlikely. Images of Jayme as she had looked when I was called in to identify her body flashed through my mind, and I almost crumpled into a heap.

If something had happened to him, I would know, right? Landon, Maxx’s younger brother, would have contacted me. I frantically thought of every reasonable explanation for his absence and tried to calm down. I couldn’t allow myself to imagine the worst. I’d lose what was left of my good sense and run off trying to find him.

Because my life wasn’t about Maxx anymore. It couldn’t be.

And yet . . . I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I walked down the hallway and pushed open the closed door in front of me. Light from the street filtered in through the window. This room didn’t smell of rancid garbage or stale air. It smelled like him.

Like Maxx.

I didn’t turn on the light. I walked carefully over piles of clothes until I reached the bed. I slowly sat down and let my hands fall between my knees. It was crazy that despite everything, despite all this man had put me through, his home, his space, felt so right.

Almost against my will, I picked up his pillow and buried my face in it, inhaling deeply. His scent clung to the fabric. Behind closed eyelids I saw Maxx’s desperate face, blue eyes pleading, blond curls in wild disarray from my fingers. I remembered words fraught and needy.