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I blew out a breath. “You fill the prescription at my pharmacy,” I said, a little softer.

“I will fill it at your pharmacy. I promise.”

We sat there, staring out the windshield at the back of Mike’s truck.

“What shit do you have going on that you don’t tell me?” he asked.

I glanced at him. His face was puffy. His eyes were bloodshot with dark bags under them. Had he been crying?

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t going to dump my shit on him now that he was finally asking out of guilt. Mike was clearly barely handling his own crap. He couldn’t handle mine.

It was always like this, I realized. Or at least it had been for a while.

I let him get away with constantly relying on me, without it ever going the other direction. And for the most part that was fine—until Mom died and I needed it to go the other way. I needed someone to talk to and lean on beyond just dragging me out of the house to go to the gym. I needed my friend. And every time I reached for that, he moved out of the way. So I’d stopped reaching. I’d been protecting his peace while sacrificing my own, tiptoeing around him for fear of giving him more than he could deal with.

And what the fuck was he dealing with?

I thought about what Larissa had said about the door you know. Going back the way you came because it was familiar. I think Mike was in that loop. And I didn’t have the patience or the wherewithal to help him anymore. He needed to change his own script.

I was too busy trying to rewrite my own.

15

LARISSA

I held up the bikini I was packing for the cabin. “What do you think?”

Mom tapped her pack of Newports on her wrist. “Cute. Mike’s gonna like that.” She put a cigarette between her lips. “When you coming back?”

“Sunday night,” I said, holding the suit against my body. “I found it at a thrift store. It still had the tag on it.”

I was so looking forward to this trip.

I wouldn’t be able to work any of my side jobs while I was gone, but that was sort of the point. I needed the break. I needed someone to whisk me off to a place where it was impossible to do anything but relax and sleep and have a good time.

I felt like I was on a hamster wheel. I ran and I ran and I ran and I never got anywhere and I felt guilty when I wasn’t running, when I had a free moment of my day that wasn’t dedicated to productivity. And I was exhausted.

I’d been exhausted for so long, I didn’t even know anything else.

Mom coughed. “I might have Phil over while you’re gone,” she said, standing in her spot in the sliding glass door. She blew smoke out toward the decaying pool chairs. “You know, he asked me to live together last week.”

I jerked to look at her. “Ew. Here??”

She shrugged. “Why not? The three of us could split the rent three ways. It’d be cheap—”

“I don’t want to live with Phil,” I said, horrified. “I don’t even want him to come over.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, fine. It’s not like I said yes.” She turned to a noise in the alley. “Hi, Delta!” Mom called, waving. The man was shuffling behind our apartment, pushing his shopping cart.

“Tell him to wait,” I said, turning for the kitchen.

I handed a snackle box to Mom and she walked it out to him in her house slippers. He gave her a grateful gapped smile and waved at me before he moved off.

“He’s so sweet,” Mom said, stubbing out her cigarette and spritzing herself. “So what’s this cabin like?”

I smiled. “Mike showed me pictures. It’s huge, on a lake. It looks like a ski chalet, stone and wooden logs and a big fireplace. There’s a pontoon and Jet Skis.”