Page 50

“Ridiculous,” I say aloud, just to confirm it.

The majority of those three weeks were spent in a drug-fueled sex fest. Ten years later, I remember only the haziest details. Sure, I’ve thought about him occasionally over the years. Mainly when I heard one of his songs on the radio.

“Whatever happened, he’s got a grudge,” Callum mutters.

“We were kids,” I retort, but it only sounds like I’m trying to convince myself.

Callum gives me a squeeze. “At least you’ve only got two weeks left.”

Two weeks is a long goddamn time.

19

SMOKESCREENS

DAY 16

“Do we have to talk about it?”

“Yes, Amelia. It’s important.”

My knee starts to bounce. I press my hand into the bare skin, driving my heel to the floor. “Fine. It hurts, Doc. It’s a cornucopia of fucked-up feelings. I want to cry and never stop, and at the same time I feel like I don’t deserve to cry.”

“Why’s that?”

I find his eyes. They anchor me; allow me to take a deep breath. Despite the chaos in my mind and heart, I do trust him. I might be a little in love with him, but I’ve come to terms with it. I’m likely not his first patient, or the last, to have these confusing feelings.

“I made myself forget the baby to avoid the pain of losing…” I swallow thickly, “him or her. I feel guilty, like I gave up my right to mourn. It’s been almost two years.”

“Why do you think time matters?”

“It matters.”

“What if I told you the pain of my brother’s death is still very much real for me? That you will always mourn, and miss, your mother and brother?”

My shoulders tense. “I’d probably say it’s time to jump out of an airplane.”

“Do you want to jump out of an airplane?”

I sigh. “Leo, come on. Just because you cracked the nut that is my head doesn’t mean I’m a completely different person. Ten percent crazy still, remember?”

He doesn’t smile. “Who said I wanted you to be different?”

The dim bulb in my heart flickers, then dies on his next question.

“Did Declan Foster want you to be different?”

My knee stops bouncing. “I figured we had another day or two before he came up,” I mutter.

He pauses, removing his glasses. I can’t believe he’s never realized that pulling off his glasses is his tell. Almost, I want to let him know. Maybe I’ll divulge the intel on our last day, when I don’t have to see him ever again.

The thought hurts, throbbing dully somewhere in the vicinity of my dead heart.

“It’s relevant now,” he says with a snap to his voice. “The monitors caught him coming out of your cabin in the middle of the night.”

“Doc, are you jealous?” I ask, forcing levity.

Frigid eyes narrow. “Do I really need to tell you how disruptive a sexual relationship can be to rehabilitation—both yours and Declan’s?”