And just like that, tears start to well in my eyes. I’ve never been able to hold back emotions. I’ve always worn them on my sleeve, and even though I want to look like I’m brave right now, all I can think about is how I’ve hit rock bottom.

I walk over to the couch and sit down, taking a tissue from the box on the coffee table to dab at my eyes. Marcy joins me and quietly waits for me.

“I’m . . . I’m.” I hiccup a sob and try to control my breathing. Even in, even out. “I’m just so incredibly sad.”

“Oh honey.” Marcy pulls me into a hug and rubs my back.

“I don’t mean to cry on you,” I say, but not letting go of the embrace, one I desperately needed. “But I’ve never felt so alone. I lost my best friend, and that hurts more than anything because he was the one I would lean on during times like this. He was the person I called when my heart was broken, when I was feeling like I couldn’t control this downward spiral, and he always helped me through it. But I can’t call him now. I can’t seek out his comfort.”

“I can understand that completely.” She continues to rub my back. “Losing that lifeline of communication almost feels like a death.”

“Exactly.” I pull away and wipe at my tears. Glancing down at my lap, I say, “I loved him so much, more than life itself, and I would have done anything for that man.” I shake my head. “And he just pushed me away, without a fleeting glance. Gone. Done. Get out of my life. He was so . . . cruel.”

More tears flood my cheeks and I dab at them with the tissue.

Marcy takes my hand in hers and with a caring tone, she asks, “Any other texts? Phone calls?”

I shake my head. “No, but then again, it’s not like I continued the line of communication after his last texts. And honestly, I couldn’t bear to talk to him at this point. It’s as if he took over twenty years of friendship and unapologetically and ruthlessly threw it away, as if it didn’t matter. He . . .” Destroyed me. “He hurt me.”

“Oh Kinsley, I’m so sorry. If you need some time off, I would be happy to—”

I shake my head. “No, I need to be with the animals. I need to keep busy.”

She nods and looks off to the side. “I know I shouldn’t mention it, but did you happen to catch the game last night?”

“The Rebels game?” I shake my head. “Watching baseball isn’t on my priority list right now.”

She nods and continues to look away.

“What happened?”

“Maddox was pitching last night, and he was tossed out of the game by the third inning.” My gut twists. “He pegged three batters, the third one charged the mound. Benches cleared. The announcers said they had never seen Maddox pitch like that before, as if he was completely out of control.” Marcy stands and says, “I know you’re in pain and your heart has been broken, but it doesn’t seem like you’re the only one. I’m not saying you should get back together with him, or even hear him out. I’m just letting you know, you’re not alone.”

I give her a sad smile and nod. “Thank you.”

“Okay, I’m going to head out. If you need anything else, let me know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Marcy is gone, I take a seat back on the couch and stare out the window, Marcy’s words running through my mind. Maddox completely out of control. From the desperation in his texts and his voicemail, I think I know what she’s talking about. I saw the same kind of spiral after he and Jamie broke up. I never knew what happened between them, but now I know.

Herman comes up to me and rests his head on my leg as tears start to fall again. I drag his long, velvety ears through my fingers and debate looking for clips of Maddox’s game last night. I’m trying to make this a clean break; it’s why I moved out as quickly as I could because I didn’t want to hang around, wallowing in the loss of not only the love of my life, but my best friend too.

But my curiosity piques and there’s no stopping me, despite the deep ache in my heart and the voice in the back of my head telling me this is a bad idea.

I type out Maddox Paige fight into my phone browser and my results are flooded with fights from the past, but the top one is from yesterday. On a deep breath, I click on it. The title of the article says “Paige Beans Three, Tossed by Third.”

My pulse picks up. He hit three guys? That’s very unlike him.

I play the video and the camera focuses on Maddox. His face is scruffy, his eyes are sunken, and the usual intensity on the mound is absent.

He winds up, delivers the pitch, plunking the batter in the arm. My breath catches as the batter tosses the bat and charges toward the mound. Maddox doesn’t even flinch, almost like he’s welcoming the fight. He tosses his glove and throws the first punch, directly to the batter’s chin. The batter reels back and Maddox goes after him, taking a punch directly to the ribs. They roll around for no more than a few seconds before their teammates reach them and pull them apart. Maddox’s hat fell off his head, his hair is wild as he yells at the other team, despite Jason holding him back from behind.

I press pause and put my phone face down, unable to watch it anymore.

It’s too painful, seeing him like that.

The anger in his eyes, the fight in his fists. It’s the same look I saw from his father when he attacked Maddox. It’s the same look of anger I saw the night of his birthday, when everything went down.

Terrifying.

Not the man I grew to love.

He’s a man I’ve grown to be afraid of.

“I can finish up the last cages, why don’t you go home?” I say to Marcy, who’s been hovering over me all day, making sure I’m okay and not sobbing in a corner somewhere.

Thankfully, I’ve been able to hold it together all day.

Maybe because I’ve fallen into a state of numbness.

After watching Maddox’s fight two more times last night before I went to bed, I fell into this state of existing but not feeling. It was as if my last viewing stole any emotion I had left, leaving me as an empty vessel.

That’s how I’ve been working through the motions today, empty.

“I can help. I have nowhere to be.”

“Marcy,” I sigh. “I’m fine, okay? You don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not babying you, Kinsley . . . I’m being a friend. It seems like you need one now more than ever.” She’s not wrong. I’ve lost the only other two female friends I had here. I hate recalling the looks on their faces.

I give her a soft smile and nod, knowing Marcy isn’t one to be told what to do; she does as she pleases.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Marcy says. “I would hate to have seen you go. You’ve done so much for the shelter and we’re so close to closing in on this partnership. Once we do, I’ll be giving you quite the raise.”

I wave her off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m resourceful, plus, I’d rather live in a canoe under the Michigan Avenue Bridge than go back home. My mom would never let me live it down or let me move away ever again.”

“Protective?”

“You have no idea. And she wasn’t too keen on the idea of me dating Maddox in the first place.” My voice catches as I recall what my mom told me would happen. God, how I hate she was right.

Marcy says, “Let me guess, your mom said he was going to hurt you?”

“Something like that.”

“I probably would have said the same thing to my daughter. Maddox Paige has a giant heart. It’s easy to see in the way he’s cared for you and his love for everything you love, but he’s also tortured. I’m sure something you know more about than anyone else. When you see such anguish in someone’s eyes, you always fear what they could possibly do, not physically, but mentally.”

I nod, her words sinking in.

“He, uh, he didn’t have the best childhood growing up.”

Marcy nods as she finishes sweeping the kennel. I follow up with our disinfectant and mop. “It’s obvious he’s tormented by something. But you were always an outlet for him, weren’t you?”

“He came to me to escape, to find joy.”

She nods again and then hands me paper towels as she sprays down the PVC dog bed. We took out the cushions already, rotating them with clean ones.

“Well, it’s unfortunate, falling in love with someone who’s been hurt in their childhood. It presents problems as a partner that we have to try to sift through, adjust to, and unfortunately, we’re the ones who get hurt.”

“We?”