I had to look away because if I focused on her sad face, I’d crumble. “What about me, Maggie? What do you think I’m feeling being down here? I don’t know what you’re doing. What you’re thinking,” I said bitterly.

Maggie laughed hatefully. “What I’m doing? Is that was this is about? Your ridiculous jealousy? I thought we got over that a long time ago, Clay…you know around the time I showed you how willing I was to throw my life away for you. How I’d follow you anywhere.”

I grit my teeth. I knew Maggie was pissed. That was the only time she’d throw the less savory pieces of our past in my face.

“Look, I’m sorry, Mags. I just didn’t realize how hard this would be. Maybe I can try to get up to see you. Come to Davidson for a few days,” I suggested illogically. There was no way Roberta would sign off on that. Plus I didn’t have the money for that kind of trip.

But at this point I’d f**king hitchhike if I could see Maggie.

Maggie’s anger melted away as quickly as mine had. “You know you can’t do that. I’ll talk to my parents, see if I can come down for Christmas…” she began but I shook my head.

“Let’s not make each other any promises we can’t keep right now. I’m not sure I can handle the disappointment,” I said, laughing humorlessly.

I was a tripwire set to detonate. These moments were a bitter reminder of the dark, twisted places my mind could go. Of where it still wanted to go.

I picked at the skin around my thumb, drawing blood. Seeing the bright red against my skin I stilled, gripping my hands into fists. “I’d better go,” I strangled out.

“Clay…” Maggie began. She shook her head, her face hidden by a long curtain of hair.

“You know I love you, right?” she asked and I hated how it felt she like was trying to convince both of us.

I nodded, still clenching my fists as tightly as they would go.

“Yeah, Mags. I know. I love you too,” I replied, the words as brittle as glass between my teeth.

Maggie was distracted by a knock on her door and I heard voices that had become unwelcomingly familiar.

“Just give me a minute to finish up and I’ll meet up with you,” Maggie was saying, her back to me as she spoke to the guy at her door.

The hateful coil of jealousy reared its head and without another word, and before Maggie could turn back around, I disconnected the call. I quickly logged out of my computer and slammed it closed with a decisive bang. I pulled the plug from the wall and the picked up the laptop and shoved it in my desk drawer as if I could shove away the ugly emotions burning a hole in my gut.

My breath came in painful bursts.

I had come so far. Yet how easy it was for me to lose all of that at the thought of Maggie disappearing forever.

4

Fall Break sucked a fat one. I spent most of the time volleying between being miserable and morose and being annoyed and pissed off. Rachel and Daniel had decided to stay at their school, so I didn’t even have my best friends to keep me company.

Clay and I continued to talk every night but after our argument, the conversations changed. There was a distance and decisive chill that I couldn’t undo. I tried to bridge the widening gap but every time I thought I was getting closer, Clay took another step back.

And I made a million and one excuses for his altered behavior. He was tired. He had a lot on his plate right now. I wasn’t being fair or understanding enough.

At one time, I had been the master of enabling explanations where Clayton Reed was concerned. It was a habit I had hoped to have outgrown by now. But it was like last year’s pants that had become too tight. It was uncomfortable as hell but I still tried to squeeze my fat ass in them.

“How’s group going?” I asked Clay on the last night of break. I was helplessly trying to hang onto the conversation, though it had died of awkwardness about twenty minutes ago.

“It’s going,” Clay responded noncommittally. Damn, I wanted to throttle him.

“What sort of stuff do you talk about?” I tried again. Clay was quiet for a while and I was starting to wonder if I was speaking into dead air.

“Last week we talked about the holidays. You know because Thanksgiving is a month a way and shit. Holidays are usually hard for most of us, so we were working through triggers and coping plans,” Clay said and I was thrilled. Not that he was planning ways to get through a painful holiday season, but that he was actually talking. Actually sharing. I was tiptoeing back in.

“And what’s your plan?” I asked him, pushing that door wide open again. I didn’t do timid. I wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around the very focal point of our lives. His treatment and his recovery were the most important things our worlds. I wanted the XYZs and the 123s.

“Seeing Ruby. Remembering to be thankful for those who love me,” he said quietly and then added, “Seeing your face even if it’s just on a computer screen. Being appreciative that you’re there even when I don’t deserve it.”

My heart became tight in my chest and my cheeks hurt from smiling. After a week of bullshit, this was nice to hear.

“Is that your way of saying sorry?” I asked, with only a hint of teasing.

“It’s my way of saying I should never have been an ass**le in the first place,” he admitted and I felt the knot in my stomach begin to loosen.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” I said more harshly than I intended.