Pulling open the door, the overpowering smell of coffee assaults me, making my stomach roll. Scanning the patrons, I spot Morgan sitting at a small round table in the back near the restrooms. I didn’t think it was possible for her to lose any more weight, but she has. The black tank top she has on shows off her extremely thin arms, and the jean shorts she’s wearing give me a view of her legs, which are so thin I can make out the bones of her knees and ankles.

Making my way toward her, I feel myself pale; she looks frail and sick. Her skin has lost its golden hue and is now a greyish color, and her hair is so thin I can see her scalp. Long gone is the beautiful girl who would turn heads as she walked down the sidewalk, and in her place is someone I don’t even recognize.

“Maggie,” she whispers, standing to greet me with a hug. Hugging her back, my arms can almost wrap around her twice and tears burn the back of my eyes. Releasing me, she takes a step back.

“God, you look awesome, Maggie, totally fucking awesome.” She smiles, but I still catch the sadness and pain in her eyes as she speaks.

“Thanks,” I mutter, feeling guilty for every ounce of happiness I’ve felt over the last few months—months she’s obviously been slowly deteriorating.

“Do you want coffee?” she asks, taking a seat.

“No, thanks,” I reply, sitting across from her. We both stare at each other for a long time, and I have no idea what to say. I want to yell at her for being selfish, but I also want to tell her I miss her so much. Not the Morgan she’s become over the last few years, but the Morgan who helped me get even with my first boyfriend when I found out he kissed another girl, the Morgan I could tell anything to, the Morgan who was my best friend.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” she says quietly and I nod. “I want to get help,” she blurts loudly, so loudly that a few of the people around us stop to look at us.

“You want to get help?” I repeat quietly, not able to keep the surprise or doubt out of my voice.

“I know I’ve messed up.”

“Yeah,” I agree. I’m not going to coddle or sugarcoat things for her this time. I always do that, and it never, ever works. “You could have gotten me killed.”

“I…I’m…I’m sorry. I wish I could change that,” she whispers as my phone in my purse rings. Pulling it out, I look at the screen and see Sven’s calling. Pressing the silence button, I squeeze the phone in my hand and feel my heart rate speed up. “If you need to take that, it’s okay,” she says, studying me. I really, really do not want to answer the phone. I really don’t, but I also don’t want Sven to worry. Sliding my finger across the screen, I place the phone to my ear.

“He—” I drop my eyes from my sister to my lap as he cuts me off.

“Where are you, Maggie?”

I can tell he’s not asking like he needs to know. He’s asking to see if I will lie about it. How he knows where I am, I have no idea, but I can tell he does.

“Starbucks,” I reply, biting my lip when I hear something on his end of the phone slam down, and I know without even being in the same room with him that it’s his fist hitting the top of his desk.

“Who are you with?”

“Sven…”

“Who the fuck are you with, Maggie?” he asks quietly, and I swallow.

“My sister.”

“Jesus, what the fuck are you thinking?!” he roars, and I see my sister jump at the sound.

“Can I call you back when I leave here?”

“Call me when you get in your car then come straight here,” he demands.

“I—”

“Call me when you get in your car then come straight here,” he repeats, and I feel my spine stiffen at his tone, but I know now is not the time to get into it with him.

“Okay,” I agree and his phone goes off, and I know he hung up without even a goodbye.

“Who was that?” Morgan asks as I drop my phone back into my purse.

“My boyfriend,” I tell her while my insides twist into a knot, because that may not be the case for very long.

“He sounds like a dick,” she states.

I glare at her then hiss, “He’s worried.”

“He still sounds like a dick, and why would he be worried?”

“I don’t know Morgan, maybe because you have a tendency to bring trouble with you wherever you go,” I bite out sarcastically.

“That’s not fair,” she whispers, and I run my palm across my forehead and notice my hands are shaking.

Trying to get my thoughts together, I close my eyes then open them back up to look at her. “You said you want to get help, so what is your plan?”

“I need to borrow some money so I can get it back to Carmine, and then I’ll go into rehab.”

“Morgan.” I close my eyes again and feel myself deflate.

“Maggie,” she calls, and I open my eyes once more to look at her. “I know you don’t have much of a reason to believe me or trust me, but this time I really do want to get help.”

Studying her, I see the truth in her gaze, or maybe I’m only seeing what I want to see. “How much?” I hear myself ask, and watch relief flood her features.

“Fourteen thousand.”

“Fourteen thousand?” I choke.

“I know it’s a lot of money, but once I finish rehab, I swear I’ll pay you back, every penny.”

“Morgan, I just…I just don’t know. That’s a lot of money to just give to you.”

“I don’t have anyone else to ask,” she whispers, dropping her eyes to the coffee cup on the table which she’s turning slowly around and around.

My heart twists in my chest as I watch her. If I don’t help her she could really end up dead. If I do help her, she could run with the money and end up dead anyway. This is a double-edged sword if there ever was one.

“You’re going to have to follow me to the bank. I don’t have that kind of cash on me,” I say, and the cup stops turning, her eyes meeting mine and are flooding with relief. “Morgan, this is it. This is the last time. I love you, but I can’t keep doing the same dance with you. If you don’t get help this time…” I shake my head, letting the unspoken words hang between us.

“I know,” she whispers.

Letting out a long breath, I stand from the table. “How did you get here?”

“Amy dropped me,” she mutters then continues when she reads the look of distaste on my face, “I’ve been staying with her the last few days.”

“Morgan—”

“Don’t say it, okay? I already know what you’re going to say, but you don’t need to.”

“Fine, you can ride with me,” I tell her, pulling my bag closer to my body. Once we’re in my car and on our way to the bank, my phone rings again, but I ignore it knowing without looking that it’s Sven. If I tell him what I’m doing now, not only will he be pissed, he will be PISSED, and I can’t deal with that right now.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Morgan asks as I park in front of the bank.

Looking at her, I turn off my car and shake my head. “I’ll be back. I don’t know how long this is going to take.”