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"You know you don't have to do this," he said for what felt like the hundredth time.

I slammed the trunk shut with more force than necessary. "Yes, I do."

"Why? Because you're scared? Because it's easier to run than to face your feelings?"

I turned to face him, irritation flaring. "Because I need my own space, James. Because I can't keep crashing on your couch forever. Because I'm an adult who should be able to live on her own without a babysitter."

"Is that what you think I am? Your babysitter?" Hurt flashed across his face.

I immediately regretted my words. "No. Of course not. You're my best friend. But that's exactly why I need to go. I can't keep leaning on you every time my life falls apart."

James's expression softened. "That's what friends are for, Geri."

"Not like this. Not when I'm using you as a crutch to avoid dealing with my own shit." I leaned against my car, suddenly exhausted despite the early hour. "I need to figure out who I am without... without anyone else defining me."

"Even Con?"

Especially Con. The thought of him sent a familiar pang through my chest—a mixture of longing, guilt, and fear that had become my constant companion these past two weeks.

"He called again last night," James said when I didn't respond.

I closed my eyes briefly. "I know."

"He's coming down next weekend."

My eyes snapped open. "What?"

"He said he's tired of being ignored. He's coming to talk to you in person."

Panic clawed at my throat. "You told him where I'm going to be living?"

"No. I told him you were moving, but not where. I figured that was your information to share if you wanted to."

Relief washed over me, followed immediately by shame. What kind of person was I, hiding from someone who only wanted to talk to me? Someone who had done nothing wrong except care about me too much?

"Thanks," I said quietly.

James pushed off from the doorway and came to stand in front of me. "Look, I get that you're scared. I do. But Con is a good guy, Geri. One of the best I've met. And he loves you."

"That's the problem," I whispered.

"Why? Why is that a problem?"

I couldn't meet his eyes. "Because I don't know how to be loved like that. I don't know how to let someone in that far without... without destroying everything."

"Like you did with the pill?"

I flinched. James had been surprisingly understanding about my relapse, but it still stung to hear it spoken aloud.

"That was just a symptom," I said. "The real problem is me. I'm broken, James. I've been broken for a long time, and I don't know if I can be fixed."

"You're not a fucking vase, Geri. You're a person. People don't get 'fixed.' They heal. They grow. They learn." James's voice was firm but gentle. "But they can't do it alone. Not really."

I wanted to believe him. God, how I wanted to. But the evidence of my life suggested otherwise.

"I need to try," I said finally. "I need to at least try to stand on my own two feet before I can even think about letting someone else hold me up."

James studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I get that. But promise me something?"