“I’m not trying to. There’s so much I don’t want to remember, so many things that make sense now but never did when I was a kid.”

“You don’t have to try to make sense of it alone, though, do you?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Violet’s eyes are glassy. “You’re my best friend, and you’ve been like a sister for almost an entire decade. You’re loyal and fun and always up for an adventure. You think you like to try new things, but really you like routine and predictability. And you’re terrified of accepting help, so you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, which is pretty annoying for the people who love you and want to help. But I’ll forgive you for that since you deal with me on a regular basis and I can be a pain in the ass too.” She hugs me hard. “You’re still you. Nothing has changed except maybe now we can all understand you a bit better than we did before.”DARREN

I’m a miserable asshole without Charlene. I know this because Alex has told me more than once this week to stop being a dick. It’s not intentional. I’m not trying to be a cocksucker of epic proportions, but it’s off season, and my plan was to have Charlene at my place almost full time by this point. I’d been on track before her birthday, and now she’s not here at all.

Alex has tried to get me to talk on numerous occasions over the past week, but he can’t help me, and he can’t understand, not really. So I’ve mostly been stewing in my own frustration at not being able to protect Charlene the way she needs me to.

Her chair is empty. The book she was reading the last time she was here is still sitting on the table. When I’m really desperate for some piece of her—which is pretty much every waking moment of every day—I’ll sit in her chair with her blanket and flip through to the earmarked parts.

Ironically, none of her favorite parts are smut, despite the content of the books she reads. It’s all the sweet moments—the first kisses, the grand gestures, the breakups and the reunions—that she reads over and over.

I’m currently at the gym, trying to run out the frustration that comes with not having what I want or need. Lance jumps onto the treadmill next to mine, and I give him a nod, then up the speed to nine miles an hour. He cocks an eyebrow and starts off at a leisurely six and a half miles an hour jog.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

I make a sound, no commitment either way, because I’m actually pretty fucking shitty right now, and I don’t feel like talking about how fucked up my life is, or my girlfriend’s life, if she’s even still that.

We run in silence for a few minutes. Lance slows his speed while I sprint. My lungs are about to explode, but I’m unwilling to slow down because that will mean talking.

“You were raised by your grandparents, aye?”

I glance over at him for a split second and nod, then stare at the TV hanging above me.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but my aunt became my legal guardian when she found out my mum was beatin’ the shit outta me fer missin’ goals. Or whatever pissed her off, really.”

I stumble a step and grab the rails, lifting my feet from the belt, I straddle the edges, this time giving him my attention and dropping the speed on my treadmill so I don’t end up flying into the wall. “I’m so—”

He lifts one hand to stop me and drops his speed even more with the other until he’s walking. “Don’t apologize. It is what it is. Some people are just fucked up and they shouldn’t be parents.”

“Tell me about it.”

I’m not sure why he’s sharing this with me, of all people. I like Lance well enough, but I think he tolerates me more than anything else.

“I didn’t understand how you and Charlene worked, but, uh, Poppy kind of set me straight on a few details.”

“How so?”

He rolls his shoulders. “I had it in my head that you liked to . . .” He exhales a long breath. “Hurt her.”

This time I punch the stop button. “What?”

He does the same, but instead of looking at me, his eyes are on the flashing numbers of his screen. “Like . . . hit her.”

“You think I would hit Charlene?”

He runs a rough hand through his hair. “No, like spank her and shit.”

That hot, tight feeling in the back of my neck eases up a bit. “Oh. That’s not how things are with Charlene. Despite how it may seem, she’s very . . . innocent, which I’m only starting to understand better these days.”