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My hands are clammy on the steering wheel the whole drive, knowing that my future relies on one mentally unreliable guy.

If Lynx says no to getting help, I can’t stay. I won’t. Not if staying will only keep hurting him in the long run.

It’s a promise I make to myself.

And considering no one has ever cared about making me happy, I know it’s a slim chance. I know his scarring runs deeper than I can ever understand. I know this is a total shot in the dark, and I’m probably kidding myself into thinking it could work because of how badly I want to stay.

But I have to try.

I’m tired of running.

All I want is somewhere to call home.

CHAPTER

FORTY-ONE

LYNX

Everything smells like Sasha. His scent is all over my house, like he pissed all over it on his way out.

I can’t stand being there. I can’t stand being anywhere.

I’m sitting on my front steps, staring out into the trees, reminding myself over and over that no, I cannot walk to fucking Portland. Even if I made it there, my chances of finding him in a city that size are as good as zero. I’d like to think that I could hunt him down wherever he went, but I’m not an idiot. Sasha is gone.

My life is over.

There’s no way for me to get through the day without worrying about him constantly. It’s bad enough when I know he’s in town and can check on him, but with him in a completely different part of the country, it’s going to be torture. All day, he’ll be on my mind with no way to reach him. To see him. To touch him. I really don’t know how I’m going to survive this.

Bob nudges his head against my shoulder, but I can’t even respond enough to tell him to go away. I’ve never felt this … empty.

After losing my family, I went through every emotion possible. It will always be the worst moment of my life, but this is a different kind of pain. So fresh and acute. Driving deeply into my chest in a way that just makes me shut down.

All my life, I’ve been fighting, but now I have nothing left to fight for.

Maybe I could move to Portland? Yeah, the thought of it sends my anxiety skyrocketing, and knowing that I’d never be able to secure an area or feel truly safe already makes my throat want to close over, but at least I’d have Sasha? At this point, I’m not convinced I wouldn’t do anything for him.

It’s almost night when I hear it.

A car engine.

One that’s both foreign and familiar in a way that makes me sick with hope.

I push to my feet, Bob doing the same behind me, and we turn toward the sound, blinded as the headlights come into view.

My chest is rising and falling with each breath, and tension is holding me still as I wait for the car to get close enough to see it. I’ve never doubted my hearing more than I do right now.

It slows, the headlights still making it too hard to see anything, but as they cut off and the small figure climbs from the driver’s seat, my heart jumps into my throat.

I want to run to him, but I’m too terrified he’s only here because he forgot something and came back for it. All I can do is stare as he approaches.

It’s not until he reaches the bottom of the stairs that we lock eyes. “I couldn’t do it,” he says.

“Couldn’t do what?”

“Leave. And I know it will be better for you if I do, but I thought … maybe, if there’s a chance that I could possibly make your life better, then shouldn’t I take it?”

Hesitant hope is lighting up my chest. “All I want is to make your life better.”