“Then tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now, and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to do when you shut me out like this. I feel helpless!” She was wearing a fitted black coat and a new pair of leopard print high heels. Even furious with me, she was beyond beautiful. Too beautiful for you.

Turning, my head, I stared out the window. I couldn’t look at her. You fucking coward.

“God, it’s like you’re two people,” she said, starting to cry. “The one that takes me to bed every night and says such sweet things and makes me feel so hopeful and good and safe, and this one that’s just—”

“Crazy?” I finished, braving a sideways glance at her. “Told you.”

“Confused,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no idea what’s going on with you, but unless you decide to let me in on it, I can’t help you!”

Help me. Stay with me. Don’t go. But I said nothing.

“God, you’re so maddening!” She shook her hands in the air. “Why won’t you talk to me? It’s like you want me to leave you!”

I swallowed, part of me desperate to fall on my knees and beg her to stay and the other part anxious to get this over with. You always knew she’d go, didn’t you? At least let it be on your terms.

“Christ, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re doing all this to drive me away so you can hate yourself for it afterward.” She shook her head. “Why do you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”

“Because I don’t!” I finally exploded. “I’m not right in the head, Skylar. I’m fucked up.” The truth gnawed painfully at my gut, and I felt no relief in voicing it.

Tears dripped from her eyes. “My God. You’re so intent on punishing yourself for something you have no control over, you can’t see straight,” she said. “Have you been going to therapy?”

I looked away again.

“Look at me. Have you?”

Reluctantly, shamefully, my eyes met hers. “No.”

Drawing herself up, she wiped her tears and put both hands over her heart. “You don’t know what this is doing to me. I love you, Sebastian, so much it kills me to see you hurting. I want to make everything better for you, and it breaks my heart that I can’t. And I want a life with you, but I can’t be the only one trying to make it happen.”

“This is a life with me, don’t you get it?” I snapped, hiding behind anger. “This is who I am.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t who you are, and you know it.” She pointed a finger at me. “You’re not an asshole, and you’re not a freak, and you’re not a monster.” She took a step closer and the fresh tears in her eyes had my chest in a vise. “You’re a beautiful, brilliant, complicated man, Sebastian Pryce. And I adore you. But if you want to suffer here alone with your tortured soul because you think for some fucked up reason you deserve it, fine. Choose suffering over me. But I can’t watch. It will destroy me.”

She turned and walked out the door, and I watched through the front window as she grabbed her purse from the truck and got into her car, not even trying to shield herself from the downpour. Instead of driving off in a huff, she sat sobbing in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, which was even worse, and my hands gripped the cement countertop so hard I thought I might crack it.

Eventually she left, and I was so mad at myself I nearly put a fist through the kitchen window.

Voices warred inside me.

Go get her back, you asshole.

Let her go. She’s better off without you.

You love her. You’ll be miserable without her.

So what? It’s better than making her miserable.

Women like her don’t have to give second chances, you know. Get yourself the fuck together and go after her.

I wanted to tear my hair out. Claw my eyes out. Shred the skin from my bones. I wanted to punish my body, castigate my brain for what it was making me think and feel. Even though I’d already been to the gym this morning, I went back and put myself through another grueling workout. Then I came back to the cabin, where everything reminded me of Skylar. The porch. The couch. The shower. The kitchen. The bedroom.

I made a sandwich but couldn’t even eat it because I saw the honey sticks next to the peanut butter in the pantry. The thought of her giving her honey-kisses to some other guy split my chest in two. I stood staring out the sliding glass door onto the rain-soaked patio, recalling the night last spring when I’d bought the chairs and the next day when she’d watched me put them together. The hammock was down now, but I could still see her lying there, still feel the way her body felt on mine when we’d lain in it together last summer. I looked at the dock, where she’d first told me she loved me. Fuck, why couldn’t I just be normal? Any other guy would have just bought the ring and proposed by now. A woman like her was one in a million.

My cell phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket. It was Skylar’s number.

Thank God. I didn’t even hesitate before pressing Accept. Even if she just wanted to yell at me, at least I’d hear her voice.

“Fuck. I’m such an asshole,” I croaked.

“What? Sebastian?”

My heart stopped. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t Skylar’s. “Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Natalie.”

Gray fog clouded my vision, and I steadied myself with one hand on the counter. Why was Natalie using Skylar’s phone to call me? Was she so mad she didn’t even want to hear my voice? Or had something happened to her? “What’s going on? Is Skylar OK?”

“She’s OK. But she had an accident.”

“Oh my God.” The room spun, and for a second I thought I might get sick. I caused it. I caused it. This time it’s real. “A car accident?”

“No. She slipped and fell on some wet cement stairs outside a restaurant. She broke her wrist and hit her head pretty good, but she’s fine now.”

“Jesus.” I grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged on it. So it wasn’t a car accident, but it was still your fault. She went to the restaurant alone and you should have been with her. “Where is she?”

“She’s at Munson. But she doesn’t want to see you.”

“What? Why?” You know why, you stupid fuck.

“I don’t know. She didn’t elaborate, and she’s exhausted and loopy from the pain meds, but when I asked if I should call you, she said no, she didn’t want to see you and that if I called you she was never speaking to me again.”

“Fuck that. I’m coming.” I looked around for my keys. I hated hospitals more than odd numbers, but nothing could keep me from her.

“No! Please don’t.” Her tone was desperate. “Look, I called you because I knew you’d want to know, and I’m guessing she’ll eventually speak to me again after I tell her I did, but really—she’s got a bad enough headache right now. Whatever’s going on with you guys will have to get sorted out another time.”

My throat was squeezed so tight I didn’t know if I could even talk anymore. “OK. Thanks.”

We hung up, and I considered my next move for less than two seconds.

Skylar was hurt. I needed to be near her.

Despite the rain, I drove fast, praying hard that Natalie had been truthful with me and that Skylar’s injuries weren’t worse than she claimed.

At Munson, I parked and raced into the lobby without even hesitating outside the doors. Looking around wildly, I spotted the info desk and charged up to it. Once I got Skylar’s room information, I headed for the elevators, my stomach churning a bit at the hospital smell in the halls. Forget that. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her. I forced myself to inhale deeply. Again, and again, and again. After a minute, one elevator door opened and Natalie stepped out.

“Sebastian.” Her eyes went wide. “What are you doing here?”

I squared my shoulders. “You have to let me see her.”

“She’s finally sleeping. Please don’t go up there now.”