Four days later, Jenny comes. In some ways seeing her fuels my anger even more, partly because Jenny and Ace have the most physical similarities. It’s sort of like seeing the ghost of the girl I love haunting me at an even more aggressive level.

She quietly walks to my bed and perches on the edge of it. We haven’t spoken since Savannah’s, when I’d demanded to see Ace and she’d blamed me. I still haven’t forgiven her, and it’s obvious she knows by the way her eyebrows are drawn and her mouth is turned down with pity and guilt.

“She loves you, Max. She loves you so much. She’s just scared, and hurt, and lost. With losing dad, and mom being so distant … if you guys hadn’t been going through your breakup—”

“It has nothing to do with that. We weren’t breaking up! We would’ve been fine!” I growl, I don’t have the energy to yell.

Jenny looks at me for a moment, her blue eyes slowly studying me, and I have to close my eyes because the gesture is so similar to Ace, that I can’t watch.

“I think she’s questioning everything, Max. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. It was just bad timing,” she says quietly. “She just needs some time, and then I’m sure she’ll—”

“What, Jenny?” I yell, feeling a new wave of anger uncurling in my gut. “You’re sure she’ll what? She doesn’t want any of us.”

The sympathetic look she gives me betrays the secret I see she’s working to keep.

“She’s called? She fucking called you?” Of course she did. She was their drug of choice too. That’s why they’re still able to function and aren’t holed up or on their way across the damn country. She isn’t running from them, she’s running from me.

“Did she read the letter from your dad?” My mind’s reeling. It feels like I’m free falling down a steep cliff and my mind’s desperately searching for the tiniest ledge to grasp onto.

“I don’t know. I think so,” Jenny answers with a shrug. “We were all reading them.”

That last sentence sends me plummeting to the bottom. I burry my face in my comforter and drown out everything else she tries to say.

“Dude, you’ve got to get up.” Jameson sighs as I pull the pillow back over my head. I don’t even know what day it is anymore. I don’t care.

What adds salt to my wounds is the fact that the world keeps turning. People continue waking up and going about their day. The sun rises and sets. I hear kids laugh and play, neighbors greet one another, and birds sing, and all the while I wonder how? How does the entire world appear to be surviving this nightmare of losing her?

Hank comes to visit in June. I still haven’t heard from Ace, and yet I’m still staying at my mom’s. I can’t leave. I can’t go back to that house. I’d moved rooms shortly after she left, and now reside in the guest room on the main floor. It’s better this way. There aren’t any pictures of her in here or random memories, like the one of her sitting on my bean bag chair when I was sick last summer. I also don’t have to face the window that looks out onto hers.

Hank knows that I know mom sent for him, hoping that he’d be able to “help” me. She of all people should know that having Hank around isn’t going to help me. He’s fucking married to the love of his life; he doesn’t have a fucking clue about the shit that I’m going through.

Of all things, Hank wants to go camping. I’m sure he thinks that getting away will help. He doesn’t understand that moving rooms has helped me realize I could go to Antarctica, and things wouldn’t change; the distance isn’t going to make the pain any less.

When we get camp set up, Hank opens a cooler and passes me a beer with a giant, shit-eating grin, like we’ve just overcome a huge hurdle. Deciding that I shouldn’t rain on his little douchebag tea party quite yet, I accept the beer with merely a grimace before taking a long swig. Before long, that single swig becomes a chug, and then a guzzle as I consume more alcohol than what three people probably should.

I sit by the fire and close my eyes. My mind automatically reaches back into that locked and forbidden drawer to pull out the image of Ace, striving to recall the sound of her laugh, the feel of her touch. It brings me back to our camping trip last September, when Jameson announced that was what he wanted to do for his birthday.

Neither of you girls seemed overly thrilled about the prospect of spending the night outdoors when Jameson announced he wanted to go camping for his birthday. Seriously, do you remember how heated some of those discussions between J and Kendall got? It really wasn’t fair—you girls could sell ice to Eskimos. The list of requirements you guys constructed made me think finding a place was going to be impossible for a while.

I know you had suggested that Jameson, Landon, and I just go, and make it a guys’ weekend, but Jameson was set on having Kendall be there to celebrate his big day. By that point, I was pretty done with lying to myself, and knew I didn’t want to spend the weekend without you either. Both of you girls thought we’d give up and agree to do something else, or give in and just make it a guys’ trip. But I hunted and searched and found a place that seemed to accommodate all requests.

I went out and bought camping necessities, like bug repellent, sun screen, extra batteries for flashlights, and camp food. When I got back, you were discussing what came first, the chicken or the egg with Jameson and Landon. Jameson was adamant that God created a chicken first. I remember having to wait forever for him to shut up so I could break the news.

“Alright, babe, Friday after class we’re heading out into the wilderness.”

You turned with a look of surprise across your face that made me smile. I was pretty sure based on warnings from your dad, you girls had never been tent camping.

Friday, we loaded up the Jeep and Landon’s SUV and headed over to pick you girls up.

“Wow, babe, I’m impressed!” I was. You only had a small duffel you were sifting through when I found you.

“Don’t be too impressed.” You bent down and lifted another small bag from behind the bed.

“You always impress me.” You always do. I should have told you that more, especially since it earned me a small grin like you were embarrassed.

We’d picked up sleeping bags from my house a couple of weeks ago, along with a camp stove, flashlights, tents, tarps, and other camping gear that my brothers and I had acquired over the years. Not surprisingly, neither of you girls owned a sleeping bag. Between my two brothers and me, we had somehow accumulated eleven, so we were set.

Do you remember Jameson hauling Kendall’s suitcase down the stairs? I never told you this, but Jameson had made multiple comments about not wanting to ever date a high maintenance chick while we were in Alaska. Although he had to have known your sister was in the higher percentile, I was worried she was going to dig a grave for herself on that trip.

When we walked over to the Jeep and discovered that half of it was already filled, I didn’t care quite as much.

“What in the hell is she thinking?” I quietly growled.

“It’s alright, I can ride with Landon,” you said with a casual shrug. “He’ll probably enjoy the company anyway.” I had almost objected. I wanted to. As ridiculous as it was, I didn’t want to spend the few hours driving there apart, even though I’d have the next three days with you. Seeing the frustration on Jameson’s face stopped me. Reminding myself this was his birthday and that if the tables were turned, he would without a doubt reciprocate the favor, I shut my mouth and breathed a deep sigh before following you over to Landon’s rig.