Author: Cheryl McIntyre

I feel dizzy, my stomach churning as I stop abruptly with my hand on the desk.

I pull Facebook up and scroll through the status updates. People living their lives.

I feel so alone.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should talk to Mason about my feelings, but I don’t want to hurt him. He’ll want to go back to Ohio. He’ll think this is his fault. Really, I’m just weak. Always have been.

I wonder if he realizes our anniversary is coming up. A year.

My throat feels like there’s a chunk of something lodged there. I can’t swallow it down. I can’t breathe around it.

A year.

My forehead is damp with a sheen of sweat. Panic rolls under my skin.

A year.

That’s a big milestone. Really big. A really great big accomplishment. I should be happy. Proud even. But all I can think about is how I’ve taken a year of Mason’s life away from him. Consumed a year with all my crazy. And I’m not better.

I should be better by now.

What if I never get better?

I shove away from the desk and look for my phone and keys. I need to see him. I need him to hold me and tell me he loves me. I need his reassurance that I’m enough. That he can be happy with me. That he is happy.

Where the hell are my keys? I drop to my knees, the pain of bone against wood sending a rush through my veins.

My eyes pop up to look at my nightstand. To where my new razors hide in the dark. Behind lotion and pens, notebooks and Aspirin, lies a small box that has the power to take everything away.

The pain. The memories. The panic pulsing with every beat of my heart.

The trust. The second chances. Mason.

Ugh. I need him so much right now. I just don’t know if I should put that on him anymore.

15

Mason

Something’s shifted in the past couple weeks. I don’t know what it is, but Hope is different. She doesn’t smile as often. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard a real laugh leave her lips. Has it been since we’ve been here? I don’t know.

She says everything’s okay. She insists she’s happy. I want to believe her, but I have this sickening feeling in my gut.

We’ve seen each other exactly twice this week. Once for lunch on Monday, and again on Thursday when she came over to do laundry. She spent the two hours studying.

We’ve only made love twice since we moved here. And conversation is almost nonexistent. It may not seem like a big issue to anybody else, I mean, we’re at two different colleges. She lives in her campus housing. I’m in an apartment. She’s busting her ass to keep up with her work load. I spend my spare time catching up on time missed with Kel. I get that.

But going from living with her to seeing her a few hours a week is making me miserable. And knowing how I feel, I can’t understand how she says everything’s fine.

It’s not fine for me.

And she’s changing. Pulling away. Becoming distant.

I can’t take it.

I insisted on my own apartment for her. I thought she’d spend half her time there, but every night is a new excuse. Too much homework, she’s too tired, she has to work. They’re legitimate reasons, but I have a hard time believing she hasn’t been able to find time for me in the month we’ve been here.

I make the time for her. And all I’m asking is for her to sleep in my arms a couple of nights a week.

Is it really unreasonable?

I lean against the wall across from her afternoon class. My plan is to kidnap her. As soon as she steps out of that room, I’m abducting her and taking her back to my place. I fucking miss her that much.

The door opens and students pour out. I stand up straight and wait. She’s looking down at her phone, her fingers tapping out a text, and she doesn’t notice me until I step right in front of her.

“Hey. What’re you doing here?”

I grin at her, trying to pretend I haven’t been worried about her and our relationship. “I came to pick you up. I’ve missed you. Thought I could make you dinner.”

She tucks her phone in her back pocket and looks up at me. “All right. But I can’t stay long. I have a paper to write.”

“Work on it at my place. I’ll help you with it.”

I take her hand and start walking down the hall. “I don’t want you to help me with my paper. I want to do it on my own.”

“All right,” I say slowly. “I’ll keep my mouth shut and just watch you work. You’re sexy as hell when you concentrate.”

Hope pulls back, stopping in the middle of the hallway. People have to walk around us and I keep getting knocked around by book bags. I reach for her and she sighs. “I can’t work if you’re watching me.”

My jaw twitches as I clench my teeth. “So what are you saying? You don’t want to come over?”

She moves past me, walking on without me. I catch up quickly and look sideways at her. “I said I’d come over,” she states. “I just can’t stay long.”

“Fine.”

I push through the door, holding it open for her and we make our way to my car in silence. As I go to open the car door for her, she reaches for it at the same time. “I got it,” she whispers and my heart pounds in my chest.

When Hope whispers it’s never good.

*********

I set a plate of homemade spaghetti on the coffee table in front of Hope. She sets her book aside and sits forward.

“Looks good,” she says. “You sneak any veggies in here?” When she smirks at me I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just tomatoes.” I grin as she takes a bite. “And mushrooms.”

“Freaking fungus.”

I chuckle as I go back to get my plate. I sit on the floor across from her and watch her swirl her fork around on her plate. “How were classes today?” I ask. It’s usually a safe subject. Pretty much the only thing she ever talks about.

“Okay.”

Or not.

I set my fork down and search her face. “Hope. Talk to me.”

She doesn’t look up, but she slides off the couch, sitting on the floor as well. “I started going to the new therapist.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday was my third visit.”

Third. So three weeks. Pretty much the entire time we’ve been here and I didn’t even know. “How’s it going? Do you like her?”

“Him. And I don’t know. I don’t know if I like him. I don’t know how it’s going.”

I wait because her voice dropped with each sentence until I could barely hear her. There’s more and I don’t want to push her or she’ll pull even further away.

“He thinks I need to spend some time by myself.”

“What?”

She lifts her head to meet my eyes and I can’t read her at all. It scares the hell out of me. “He recommended we take a break so I could figure some things out.”

“A break,” I repeat flatly. A break. Like the break she took from Park? Hell no. “Well fuck him.”

She squints at me, her nose crinkling. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t listen to him for starters,” I spit.

“I just need some time, Mason. I’m confused.”

“About us?”

She looks at me blankly and I feel sick. I stand up, taking my plate with me, and throw it at the wall. Hope startles and pushes herself to her feet.

“Hope,” I utter. She’s shoving her things into her backpack and all I can do is watch her helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Mason. I just need to go write that paper.”

“What? You can’t go—”

“I can’t stay. I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I just have to go.” Her voice cracks. My lungs contract.

“Let me get my keys.”

“It’s fine. It’s not far and I need the air.”

“Hope,” I plead. God, please no. Please don’t do this. I know—I know if she walks out that door it will change things for us forever.

“I’ll call you,” she whispers before slipping out my door.

16

Hope

I lie back on my bed and place my phone on my chest. I told him I’d call, but I haven’t. It’s been three days. He didn’t try to contact me the first day, but since, he’s called several times a day and sent countless texts. He showed up here yesterday and I begged Tatum to lie to him. She reluctantly sent him away. I had to dodge him at school this morning. Now with the weekend upon us, I have no idea how to avoid him.

The calls from Guy started about four hours ago.

I turned my phone off two hours ago.

I close my eyes to keep the tears back and my mind won’t quit spinning. I’m a myriad of emotions. Just a big blob of feelings and I wish it would just stop.

I’m exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Without opening my eyes, I reach over and pull the nightstand drawer open. I glide my fingers over the items inside, moving to the very back until I feel the small box. I grip it tightly and bring it to my chest. Drawing the blanket over my head, I drift to sleep.

It feels like seconds later when the blanket is ripped off me and I open my eyes to see Guy and Chase standing above me. And they’re seriously pissed.

Guy pries the box from my fingers and hands it back to Chase. “Get the fuck up.”

“Go away,” I mutter as I reach for my comforter. Chase stomps his foot down on it, shaking his head.

“Get up,” Guy says again, “or I’ll drag your little ass out of that bed myself.”

I glare at him. “I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Maybe if you answered your God damn phone we wouldn’t have had to drive out here. But since we’re here, we aren’t leaving.”

Chase crosses his arms, tucking my box into his armpit and nods his agreement. “You scared the shit out of us.”

I groan. “Did you tell Jenny and Alec?”

“Not yet,” Guy replies. He sits beside me and pulls my arm. “Did you cut?”

I point at Chase. “The box is still sealed.”

“That doesn’t mean shit and you know it.”

I elbow my way up. My head hurts and my eyes burn. “No. I didn’t cut myself or do harm to myself in any other way.” And then I laugh because seriously—didn’t I? Didn’t I hurt myself when I told Mason I needed a break? Didn’t I hurt myself when I didn’t call him? When I ignored his calls?

“What the hell’s going on?” Guy hisses. “Mason said you broke up with him.”

Dread shivers through me and I just start crying. I can’t stop. I sob in a really gross and loud way because I know I fucked everything up and I have no idea how to fix it.

Guy pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me. His fingers comb through my hair, but I still cannot stop crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

“Tell me, honey,” Guy murmurs into my ear as he rocks me back and forth.

I try to catch my breath so I can get a sentence out, but air just won’t come.

“Shh. Calm down.” I feel his head lift and the blanket swarms around me. “Go get her some juice and a big bag of Skittles.”

I shake my head, crying harder, but I can’t get the words out. I don’t want Skittles. It can’t be Skittles.

“Shit,” Guy hisses. “Sorry. Starbursts. Get her Starbursts. And Twizzlers.”

I realize it doesn’t even matter because they all hold a memory of Mason.

“And call him. Let him know we got her.”

I’m not sure how much time passes, but the tears slow, and I can catch my breath a little easier. Guy wipes my face with the corner of my blanket and I slip off his legs, settling back on the bed.