Standing in front of Keri Ann, as she closes the door on our relationship feels like that day. I know I need to keep breathing in and out. And I know I should say something, anything, to stop her, but my brain doesn’t know how.

I’ve said too much, anyway. And I haven’t told her enough.

I’ve fucked up.

I need to keep it together. I don’t want to beg and plead, but I’m already dangerously close to doing that.

Seconds drag by as I watch Keri Ann’s face deliver those words to me. Words that strike me where my deepest fears and insecurities lie.

I’m winded. My lungs, my mind, my tongue won’t cooperate. My entire body has betrayed me. If my mind was fully functional right now, and not in catatonic shock, if it was able to bark out an order for me to walk, walk to her and wrap my arms around her small frame, or even to walk out, I’m not sure my legs would get the message.

The only thing I can feel is a clawing, dark nothingness moving like sludge through my veins—taking over. It’s seeping dead emptiness through every inch of me, shutting me down in increments, until I can’t even see in front of me.

Finally, a synapse must make a last ditch attempt to fire and rescue me because I find myself turning away. Able to move.

I don’t even remember getting back to Devon’s, which is a miracle in and of itself because it’s so fucking dark here.

Because of the sea turtles.

I enter the house and sag against the wall. The memories of Keri Ann hit me like an avalanche. All the feelings that have been quiet and dead for the last twenty minutes switch back on at full volume.

I put my hand out on the same wall that I had her pressed up against right before I’d carried her upstairs seven months ago. A swift kick in the libido comes along with the memory I seriously don’t need right now. Damn, this is bad.

I remember looking in her eyes and seeing the emotion there, feeling it in return so strong the reality was, she was holding me up as much as I was her.

I know she’s lying.

Please let her be lying.

I swallow over a throat that feels like it will never close.

The thing about pain, whether physical or emotional, is there’s no running away. You can’t escape it and you can’t hide from it. Not by ignoring it, not by drugging it, not by doing a swan dive into a bottle. Sooner or later you’ll have to take a breath, let the pain rush in and get to the other side like your life depends on it. Because it does.

I know this, I’ve been through versions of pain many times. And yet, it doesn’t stop me from trying all three remedies in quick succession.

I grit my teeth and will my mind to shut down as I push off the wall and stalk into the kitchen, heading for the cabinet that houses the liquor. I can compartmentalize well, but this time it’s like trying to shove the Michelin man into a tiny ring box.

Sloshing several fingers of Blue Label into a glass, damn Devon’s getting fancy in his old age, I head straight for the stairs. In my room, I grab an Ambien and knock it back with the scotch. Dumb, I know, but I would like to be in complete oblivion just for a little while. And I haven’t slept well for weeks.

I stare at the bed in Devon’s guest room.

Visions of the last time I slept here with Keri Ann, naked, and spread out beneath me, and so Goddamn sweet and beautiful, clang down in rapid fire one after the other, and I back out.

Making it back downstairs, I top up my drink and head to the couch.

I want to make the selfish choice and just go all out to get her back. It’s a physical struggle to not turn around and go back and grab her and kiss her and love her and keep talking until she understands. Like I can force her to hear me or force her to love me.

What was I thinking? I’ve made so many mistakes, but it seems I just keep making them. Why did I tell her how I felt? Of course she wouldn’t believe me. Just hearing her reaction made me realize how dumb it was. And she was right. Part of me did think I could use that to my advantage.

My arrogance.

She’d called me on my arrogance once, and I’d denied it and claimed confidence instead. But she was right. It was my arrogant streak that believed telling her I loved her would buy me some time.

Without working too hard, I’d gotten what I wanted from women all my adult life. I traded on my looks and my celebrity and got laid when I felt like it. Even with Audrey, if I was honest. That was the normal course of events. But of course, there’s nothing normal about Keri Ann Butler.

I’ve been convincing myself I did the right thing, handled Audrey the right way by throwing the world off the trail and staying away from here until the dust settled after Erath.

Why didn’t I tell Keri Ann five months ago what was going on, back when I almost came back? I know the truth of it. I was a coward. I’d already seen her disappointment in me, and I didn’t want to own up to what I’d done to Audrey and … I didn’t want to hear that Keri Ann didn’t want me.

As I stare up at the white ceiling and wait for the sleeping pill to work its magic, I think about how I got to this moment. I knew after I left here five months ago I was dragging my feet. The longer I stayed away, the harder it was to come back because at the very heart of it, I knew this would happen. Why wouldn’t it? The exact reason most women run toward me is the exact reason Keri Ann always stepped away.

I take one more deep sip of Scotch, feeling the heat unfurl in my throat and spread through my chest, warming the cold, deep ache of emptiness and soothing the serrated aftermath of Keri Ann’s massacre of my heart. Then I close my eyes.

I’m running down the hallways at boarding school. We’re not supposed to run, but it’s dark, and I don’t know where any of the other kids are. It must be after lights out, and I have no idea why I’m running. My breath is wheezing in and out of my chest, my legs burning as I round the corner by the school kitchens. But … I just turned this corner, how did I get back to the beginning? Who am I running from?

Then I hear him breathing right behind me. “William.”

I lurch up into a sitting position and snap my eyes open only to be blinded by whiteness all around me. “Shit,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes closed to blue negatives dancing on my lids. My brain unpeels from the inside of my skull and settles with a deep thud.

Ow.

“Jack, Jesus. Jumpy much?” Devon’s voice is over to my left.

I carefully slit one eye open and look to my left. It is Devon, and I’m at his place. Butler Cove. Shit. I close my eyes again and acknowledge the hollow ache in my chest. I can’t tell if my head or my chest hurts more. “What time is it?” I croak.

“After six in the evening. You’ve been asleep all day, and by the looks of it, could sleep another twelve. I was just making sure you weren’t actually in a coma. Everything all right?” He hands me a glass of ice water. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I close my eyes and take a sip, the iciness splashing in my empty insides. “Why did you call me William?”

“What?”

“I thought … never mind. I must have been dreaming.” I haven’t had that dream for years. “Where’ve you been?”

Devon takes a seat opposite me, a beer bottle dangling from his hand.

“Savannah. It’s all a go for Roberts. We got all the permits for the Riverfront and as long as SCAD still wants in, we should begin set design by next week and hopefully begin shooting by September.”