“I don’t know how to leave you.”
“You don’t have to know how,” I say.“You just have to do it.”
The light fades, and neither of us moves because we know this is it.
It might be one of life’s hardest lessons—learning when not to hold on, and when letting go is the deeper act of love.Loving someone enough to believe in their tomorrow more than you want them in your today.
Maybe, someday, time will be kinder.
Maybe the universe will remember us and find a way to circle back and give us an eclipse.
Because some stories don’t end.
They just change shape.
CHAPTER40
GROUND ZERO
NATE
The waitingroom at Haven Ridge Recovery Center looks like someone tried too hard to make hell feel homey.Soft beige walls, motivational posters about “healing journeys,” and chairs that probably cost more than most people’s rent.But underneath all that designer bullshit, there’s still that institutional smell—disinfectant mixed with desperation and broken promises.
I’ve been staring at the same fucking pamphlet for twenty minutes.
Your Path to Recovery Starts Here.
Jesus Christ.
My path to recovery didn’t start here.It started three days ago, staring into a mirror and not recognizing the person looking back.Scott’s hollow eyes.The tremor in my hand and a weight in my chest that wouldn’t go away no matter what I put in my veins.
That was the moment I realized I’d crossed the line.
That Jake’s memory deserved better.
That if I ever wanted a shot at the future I used to imagine—one that had Nora in it—I’d have to stop being the version of myself that kept destroying everything the second I got close to having it.
My foot’s been tapping nonstop—withdrawal, nerves, anxiety, take your pick.
My whole body hums with restlessness, but underneath that is something new.A flicker of something that almost feels like resolve.
Like maybe this time, I’m not just saying I’ll get clean.
Maybe this time, I actually mean it.
Yesterday, though… fuck, yesterday was brutal.
The hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’ve buried my little brother, so that’s saying something.
Nora’s face when I told her I was leaving—the way her eyes went wide and filled with tears she tried to swallow down—it gutted me.I’ve broken her heart before.I’ve made it a fucking art form at this point.But this time, it felt like tearing a piece out of both of us.
Something that might never heal right.
People say things get better with time but time doesn’t fix shit—it just teaches you how to carry it without falling apart in public.
She was crying, really crying, and every instinct in me screamed to stay.To sayfuck it, go run away with her, pretend we were fine.
But that would’ve been another lie.
