He looks down at me, grinning, with a sheen of sweat covering his neck. “Come here,” I breathe. And when he leans back down to me, I kiss him, licking him deep and taking all that he’s willing to give. He shifts off of me and reaches over to grab my shirt. After he cleans us up, he tosses the shirt to the floor, and I draw him in close to me.

Lying face to face, he says, “Thanks.”

I run my fingers along his face and softly ask, “For what?”

“Giving me something new.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“That’s not normally my thing, but I know it isn’t yours either,” he admits, and suddenly I feel like a dick.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean, I’ve bottomed before, but it’s never been like that.” He kisses me before continuing. “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I do you, so I don’t mind.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“I love you, so it doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know.”

We shift and get comfortable in each other’s arms. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. He knows where my heart is at as we simply lie together in the aftermath of making love and wrap ourselves up in each other.

The past couple weeks have been busy with school. My professors didn’t like my initial design, so I have been busting my ass trying to come up with a new concept. I’ve fallen even further behind, and Mark has been helping me with the tedious renderings and mark-ups to help me catch up.

My mom called again last week in another attempt to get me to come back home. Hearing the pain in her voice is hard on me. I hate it. I love her so much, but her unwillingness to accept me tears me apart. Mark is right though; I’m not the cause of her sadness.

A text from Mark brings me out of my thoughts.

On my way. Got hung up with practice.

It’s cool. I’ll go ahead and get your drink.

I grab Mark a coffee and wait for him to meet me. He’s been having more band rehearsals, because they’ve been busy writing some new material since they play every week at Ryan’s bar.

When he finally walks into the coffee shop, he looks pissed. He spots me and makes his way back to where I am. Sitting down, he grabs his coffee and takes a sip.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Setting his cup down, he lets out a deep breath. “Aiden is just pissing me off. He keeps fuckin’ around with my music and changing it up. I don’t have time to be learning all these new songs to have him go right back and change them.”

“What does everyone else say?”

“Everyone is pissed at this point, so today was nothing but a bitch session, wasting my time.” Leaning back in his chair, he continues, “He wants to play some of the new stuff tomorrow night, but it isn’t ready.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, enough of my bitching. Did you show Gibson your new design?”

“Uh huh. He really liked it, so hopefully I won’t have to go back and change anything, and I can start to catch up,” I say. I have been so stressed out lately with this project.

“That’s good. Well, I’m about to submit my stuff for presentation, so when I do, I’ll have some more free time if you need any help.”

His eyes shift over my shoulder as I say, “Thanks.”

When Mark gives a slight nod, I turn to see who he’s looking at. Shit! When I see Preston walking over, I turn to stone as panic courses through me. How the hell does Mark know him?

“Hey, what’s going on?” he says as Mark stands to give him a friendly clap on the shoulder before sitting back down.

“Not much. Was actually just with Aiden.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and then Mark looks at me, saying, “Jase, this is Preston. He’s a friend of Aiden’s.”

“I already know Jase,” Preston butts in with a snide smirk on his face, and I quickly stammer and tell Mark, “Yeah, we’ve run into each other a few times.”

Suddenly, what I felt was nothing more than an irrelevant hookup, just like all the others, seems more like a lie of omission from Mark, and I’m caught in the confines of remorse and anxiety. Distraction saves me when I hear my phone ring. When I take it out of my pocket, I look to Mark and say, “It’s Candace.”

As soon as I answer it, I can hear her crying. And the bullshit happening in front of me vanishes in an instant.

“Sweetie, are you okay?”

She can hardly get her words out through her breaths. “No. I need you. Please.”

“What happened?” I ask and immediately stand up, shrugging on my jacket, needing to get to her. Mark stands up and starts following me out the door as I walk away from one of the many regrets of my past.

“I can’t breathe.” Her voice is strained as she speaks through heavy gasps.

“I’m on my way, just try to relax,” I tell her.

She hangs up the phone, and I rush to my car.

“What’s going on?” Mark asks.

“I have no clue, but she’s crying and freaking out. I gotta go. Sorry. I’ll call you, okay?” I say as I hop into my car.

“Yeah, go. Let me know what’s going on.”

I don’t even respond when I peel out of my parking spot and start speeding to her house. Everything from that exchange back there seems so trivial compared to what Candace is going through, and right now, she needs me. My heart beats hard as I try to get to her. Running through stop signs and honking at the slow-ass people driving on the road, I finally rip into her driveway. Fiddling with my keys, I find the one for her door. When I walk in, I can hear her faint cries. Going into her room, I open her closet door and see her lying on the floor covered in vomit.

“Shit. What happened?” I say as I rush to her and scoop her up in my arms.

She clings to me as I carry her into her bathroom and start stripping off her soiled clothes. She’s vacant as she sits on the edge of the tub, crying and shaking, and my heart breaks for her. Never have I seen a person so broken, but to have Candace be this person debilitates me in a way I wish I’d never have to feel.

I toss her shorts and shirt into the tub and kneel down between her legs. Holding onto her knees, I whisper, “What happened, sweetie?”

She just shakes her head and covers her face with her hands as she cries. I wrap her up in my arms and hold her. I hold her for what feels like a long time until she softens in my arms. When I look at her, she’s exhausted. I don’t say anything. I know she hates talking when she’s this upset. I walk over to the shower and turn the water on. I return to her and pull her up.

“You need me to help you clean up?” I ask.

She shakes her head and takes off her underwear before stepping into the water. I give her space and leave her alone while I go to the laundry room and grab some towels to clean her closet floor. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I’m pretty sure she had another one of her nightmares. This is the stuff that makes me feel so guilty for not being around more.

After cleaning everything up, I go back into her bathroom to grab her clothes, and I see her arms braced on the tile wall as she stands under the showerhead. Her head is hanging down, and I just want to grab her and take it all away, but I can’t. I can’t do anything to make this stop hurting her. I walk back to the laundry room and toss everything in the washer and start it.

When I return to her room, the water is still running, so I call Mark.

“Hey, babe. How is she?” he asks.

“Not good. I hate this,” I say, defeated. Like somehow I’ve let her down.

“What happened?”

Letting out a sigh, I tell him, “When I got here she was in her closet crying. She had thrown up and was lying in it.”

“Oh my God.” He’s worried; I can hear it in his voice.