My eyes were wide. I could barely breathe. “Are you serious?”

His eyebrows bunched together. “I scared you away. It’s because of me that you even started dating Damian.”

He blamed—what? No. He couldn’t, but he did. I saw it then.

He blamed himself for Damian, and for...I wasn’t even sure what else.

I shook my head. “No. No! You didn’t scare me away. That’s not what happened.”

His frown deepened. “It’s not?”

“No! Not at all.”

Oh boy. I would have to slide that door open once more and feel the Damian effects again. It was going to crush me, but he needed it. This wasn’t my coworker in front of me, but a best friend I’d abandoned, and it was on me to make this right.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For leaving you—for leaving everyone, to be honest. I knew I’d hurt people. I just didn’t know how much. I’m getting it now.” And gah, that kiss. He blamed himself. “Grant, when you and I kissed, I knew there was nothing there.”

His entire face twisted. “Nice.”

“We were young, and I was a coward. I should’ve told you straight up right then and there, but you never pushed, and I didn’t realize what you were going to think. You never scared me. I was okay. We kissed, and it was what it was. You were my best friend, and in a way, I think you still are, but I didn’t run to Damian because of you. When we left the swing and I drove away, I decided to just let it lie. I was waiting to see if you pushed for something, and if you did, I was going to tell you then that there was nothing romantic between us. You and me kissing had no bearing on me falling in love with Damian. At all.”

“It didn’t? I didn’t?”

We’d been so young, and I heard it in his voice again. That guy was in front of me, the one I’d thrown away.

“I am so sorry. When I fell for Damian, it was a whirlwind. He consumed everything in me, and I fell hard. I fell fast. We were—I could think something, and he knew it just by a look, or a twitch, or somehow he could feel it in the air. I don’t know. It was unsettling at first, but I’ve never had someone know me the way he knew me and so fast.” Pain sliced me right down the middle, my guts falling out. “He was my soulmate, and what happened with us—it wasn’t a case of him cheating on me or abusing me. It wasn’t like that, but it was tragic, and it was hard to walk away from. But I had to.”

“A year, Charlie.” He picked at the counter beside him. “You’ve been away from him and hurting for a full year. Why didn’t you—I mean, you could’ve called. You could’ve emailed. Anything. I would’ve been there for you. What happened with you two? You’re half the size you were back then. You were healthy and glowing, and you’re like a shallow reflection of yourself. He did that to you. I don’t care what you say. He did that to you.”

“No.”

“Yes! Stop defending him—”

“He has dementia!”

Oh—I bent over on a dry heave. I hadn’t intended to say it out loud, not for a long time. But those words were out. I couldn’t take them back.

How could I explain? The pitying looks, the confusion. Grant wouldn’t understand. He would judge me—about leaving Damian, about not being humane and staying, no matter what. Ride or die. I cut and run instead.

“He what?”

Grant’s words were soft, but still seething. The anger was still there.

I braced myself, because I knew it was coming at me.

“I can’t,” I choked out. “I can’t do this. Excuse me.”

I was empty.

I walked past Grant, tuning him out. He was saying something, but I was gone.

Suddenly I wasn’t so grateful for a day off.

I rolled over the next morning and turned my phone on.

It had taken almost the whole day for me to get the Damian shame out of me. I’d gone to Reese’s empty cabin and stayed most the day. Since the athletes were gone, we had no meals scheduled, so I’d heated some leftovers from the staff fridge. I hadn’t seen anyone else when I walked back to the village, and since it was still nice out, I’d kept going. I’d walked the trails for another hour before returning to Reese’s cabin, and then I did something I never thought I’d do.

I’d opened my laptop.

Lightning bolt!

Gasp. Shock. Yes, I actually did what my therapist suggested. I turned it on, brought up my music, plugged in my headphones, and I typed. Judah & the Lion were crooning in my ear. I didn’t know what I’d typed—half the stuff was in red squiggles from being misspelled, but I felt better at the end. Enough that I saved the document, shoved the laptop aside, and curled up on Reese’s bed to sleep the rest of the night.

It was still cold in the cabin, so it wasn’t that late, but I was too lazy to get up and check the clock in the main area. I waited till my phone flashed on to check the time, but the buzzing started, and it kept going.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz!

BUZZ!

BUZZZZZ!

I got it.

I hit silence on my phone, but still watched the alerts come through.

Wtf?