I didn’t know why the sadness hit me harder some days. Maybe it was PMS. Maybe it was the sting of Knox’s rejection, but I sat up in bed, my legs folded underneath me, fighting back tears and wishing I could talk to my mom. Knowing my parents no longer existed in this world was too much to process. The weight of their deaths crashed down on me and made it difficult to breathe. I felt like a massive dinosaur was sitting on my chest. A feeling that everyone told me should have faded by now, but was alive and present. I just needed to keep busy to block out the pain. It helped me carry on when I no longer wanted to.

That was what I focused on as I laced up my tennis shoes and threw my hair into a ponytail. I was meeting Belinda for coffee this morning to discuss the progress of my group, and then I was headed to a shelter to volunteer. I couldn’t keep running off to see Knox. He wasn’t someone to rely on. He was sick and needed help, and I would help him the best I could. I had only myself to rely on. Which was why I’d signed up to be part of a cleaning crew, wiping down cots and mattresses, scrubbing toilets, and mopping floors at the shelter today. If that didn’t distract me from thoughts of Knox and this dangerous game I was playing with him, nothing would.

When I arrived at Cup O’ Brew, I found Belinda already seated in a comfy armchair at the back of the café. I waved to her, and then ordered a hot chocolate at the counter. I even splurged and got whipped cream, hoping the extra sugar would help elevate my mood.

My insides were burning with curiosity, wondering if Knox had gone out looking for a girl after I’d left. Of course he had. Why wouldn’t he? And I shouldn’t feel the things I did. It would have been normal to be worried about his safety, his health, his mental wellness. Instead I felt a combination of jealousy and regret. Maybe if I’d stayed and talked to him, he’d have chosen me instead of the path he went down. It was all I’d thought about since last night, and I had the dark circles under my eyes to prove it.

Carrying my paper cup, I crossed the room to meet Belinda.

“You look well.” She rose and gave me a brief hug.

I was good at hiding how miserable and alone I felt. And at knowing how to apply under-eye concealer to cover up the fact I’d spent the night tossing and turning.

“Thanks. You do too. I love your scarf.”

The truth was Belinda went completely overboard with accessories. Bright pink hoop earrings, a rabbit brooch on her sweater, a colorful scarf wrapped around her neck, and a giant purple handbag. It was enough color to give me a headache. I slid into the wide leather armchair across from her and took a sip of my hot chocolate.

“Tell me how it’s going leading the new group.”

I fidgeted with my cup, like Belinda would somehow read my thoughts and know all I thought about these days was Knox. “It’s going well. I have about twelve regular members and occasionally get drop-ins too.” I wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to hear. Did she want updates on each individual and their progress?

“Good. And how about participation?”

“Participation in class is average. Some talk more than others, those who are quiet pay attention thought and often nod along.” Except Knox; he only shares when we’re alone together.

Belinda took a notebook from her giant purse and flipped it open to scribble something down. “And engagement with fellow group members? How’s that?”

“Engagement?” I had no idea what she meant.

“Do they support each other, do they mingle after group is over and talk? Exchange phone numbers? Things like that.”

“Oh. Um, no, not really.” Most people fled the room as soon as the hour was up, like they were desperate to get away.

“It’s something I’d like you to encourage. This is their group. They are there to support each other. It’s your job to connect them, encourage them to build friendships inside the group.”

I looked at Belinda, wondering how I’d accomplish that. My mind flashed to Knox again and I imagined partnering him up with Bill or Donald for sharing time, and knew that wouldn’t work. But why was I even thinking of that when I’d told Knox not to bother coming back? Feelings of overwhelming guilt pierced through me, and I struggled to remain composed.

Belinda leaned forward in her chair. “We can provide the structure of a one-hour weekly meeting, but for most people that’s not enough. They need a support system of others who care about their progress and success. It also teaches them there is a way to get their social needs met through healthy interactions, rather than just with sex.”

She was talking about friendship, and suddenly I realized that I was that person for Knox. Before I ruined things, he was slowly starting to open up. I had hoped over time it would lead to his recovery, though it wasn’t my motivator for spending time with him. The truth was, I liked him. I liked being near him. I didn’t think Belinda would approve of that, though. Just the thought of telling her I’d been to his house, spent time alone with him, made my chest flush. No, I would need to keep that to myself.

“I’ll work on it,” I promised.

“Good. We’ll meet again in a few weeks, and I want to hear about your progress and who you’ve connected in the group.”

I made a move to get up, but Belinda held up a hand to stop me.

“There’s one more thing. I’m sending a young woman to your group. Amanda’s a little different from our usual case. I’ve been individually counseling her, but I think she could benefit from a group setting. She has a sex and love addiction. She looks for Mr. Right in all the wrong places. She even tried to trap her last hookup into a relationship by getting pregnant. It obviously didn’t work out the way she wanted—she’s now pregnant and alone and has come forward for help.”

“How far along is she?”

“Three months. She’s not showing yet, but I wanted you to know her background. She’s about your age, so I thought perhaps you two might connect. Tread lightly with this one. She’s fragile.”

Join the club. Maybe I wasn’t in any position to be giving out counseling advice with the state of my own life, but I nodded. “I will. And thanks for believing in me.” Her faith in me made me feel even guiltier about my growing feelings for Knox.

But I needed to put that out of my mind. I was due at the shelter and had a day of hard work ahead of me.

Chapter Twelve

Knox

As I lay in bed tossing and turning, I worked over and over again in my mind what had happened between me and McKenna. I shouldn’t want her. I wasn’t the right man for her. She should be with someone educated, polite, and well-mannered. Not some asshole like me who had experienced enough loss to turn my heart into a hollow drum.

I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t good enough for her. And I’d been stupid to even fantasize that I might be. Last night had cemented the deal; she’d run and I had too. Straight into the arms of a stripper. Temporary bliss was all I had these days. Finding a willing, wet girl to sink into provided twenty minutes of mind-numbing sensation, and I couldn’t give that up. Going out a couple of nights a week was my distraction. And thoughts of McKenna were starting to interfere with that. She was dangerous. I’d turned off my emotions a long time ago as my only source of protection, and I couldn’t have her tearing those walls down.

But morning light brought a fresh perspective to everything and I wanted her. Why deny myself?

Tracking her down was harder than I thought it would be. Her asshole of a roommate hadn’t wanted to help me; that was crystal clear. He looked at me through squinted eyes, presumably guessing that all I wanted was to get inside her panties. And while that might have been true, today I actually just wanted to apologize.

She’d taken a chance coming over last night, groceries in hand, offering to cook for us. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done anything like that for us. Not since my mother. And when I realized that I couldn’t get what I wanted—her—I’d gone all macho caveman, running her out and heading to my old stomping grounds.

Little good it had done me. I’d sat there sulking like a pussy, unable to stop thinking about her, until I’d finally just gone home and crawled into bed alone.

But after I applied some pressure this morning, Brian had finally told me that she was volunteering at a shelter today, and said good luck finding her. It turned out the city of Chicago had dozens of shelters. I’d visited six of them already and was almost about to call off my mission when lucky number seven turned out to be the right one.

Letting myself inside the front doors, I was struck with the stench of sweat and mildew. I approached a woman seated behind what appeared to be bulletproof glass. This was the place McKenna came in her free time?

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a girl named McKenna. Is she here today?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.