“Dad!”

“Callen, stop yelling at me.”

“I don’t understand how Jack Holland could arrange for a flight off this fucking island yesterday, but you can’t even pick up the phone and try to help me out today!”

“You’re being a spoiled little prick right now,” my father tells me. “We paid for the entire trip for both you and Max to go down there. Now tell me what happened that’s made it so important for you to come back today.”

“I… I can’t, Dad,” I tell him, resigned.

“Why did Trey have to fly back?”

“He didn’t. Max did. He, uh… he injured his hand.”

“If you’re worried about him, I can go check on him,” he offers.

“No. Just forget about it.” I’d rather my father not hear the details of this trip–especially coming from Max. “I have to go.”

“Callen, are you okay?”

“I’m great.”

“You know you can tell us if something’s wrong.”

Something’s wrong with me, Dad. I’m a monumental fuck-up. A let-down. I’ve ruined the best thing I had going for me and hurt the most important person in my life. Something is definitely fucking wrong with me.

“Whatever. I’m fine. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Cal, come on. I’m sorry I got upset.”

“I said I gotta go.”

I hang up before he convinces me to talk and take another drink of whiskey straight from the bottle I’d bought to replace what Max tossed out yesterday morning.

I’d tried calling him a dozen times. I’d filled up his voicemail. I finally understand what it must have felt like to him when I ran away two summers ago when his brother walked in on us. I’d said no goodbyes. I just disappeared for weeks, leaving everyone except his brother, Will, wondering if I was dead or alive. Max was so strong. He was confident in his feelings for me, and in mine for him, even though I gave him no reason to be. He knew we were in love back then. He never took me for granted–not for a single moment.

I’ve done it to him so many fucking times, taken him for granted.

I don’t deserve him. I probably never did.

Texts come in from Jabin, inviting me to meet them at the pool, but I don’t have any desire to leave my room. I’ve got everything I need here: alcohol and my phone. Plus, I don’t want to run into Spence, the guy whose proposition I failed to turn down yesterday.

It was pointless. I got nothing out of it. I thought I’d get some sort of satisfaction from it, but I didn’t. I barely got off at all. It reminded me of sex with Brinlee, or the other girls I’d been with before Max. Before we got together, I never thought I’d relate fucking to feelings, but he’s ruined me. He’s ruined sex for me. There’s nothing casual about it anymore. Nothing fulfilling about it, anyway. And it’s not a bad thing. I love sex with Max.

I love Max. So fucking much.

Why the fuck did I say yes to Spence?

Pettiness and anger, Callen. And too much fucking alcohol.

I remember Max’s video–specifically the part where he mentioned his concern for my drinking–while I’m mid-pour of my fourth glass. I know I’m not an alcoholic. I just like drinking… and it’s been a lot of fun doing it here, with my friends… but there’s no way I’m going to be able to convince Max of that. Especially now. Maybe if I hadn’t cheated on him, I could have shown him that I don’t need it.

But I know Max. It’s not like he’s sleeping in, and that’s why he’s not returning my calls. I betrayed him. I hurt him. I broke what we had, and he’s not someone who will stand to be disrespected. He’s not going to take me back on an apology, even a groveling one.

I’ve always known, deep down, that to keep him, I had to do one thing: I had to love him without fucking it up. All I had to do was not fuck it up. And what did I do? I fucked it all up.

But I’m not giving up.

I walk to the sink and pour out the liquor–not just what’s in my glass, but what’s in the bottle, too. It all starts today. This won’t be an apology. I’ve already left messages begging for forgiveness, confessing my sins, crying with my regrets. That’s all been said. This is where I start living for him. Showing him that I can be worthy of him again someday. No more instant gratification for me. That Callen can stay on this fucking island. The one returning to the States tomorrow is growing up.

I’ll be the man he wants me to be. The one he needs me to be. He may not know it. Hell, he probably won’t even see it. It may take weeks or months for him to realize my efforts. Maybe he’ll hear things from Trey or Will. Maybe he’ll see headlines on gossip sites: Callen McNare Practices Abstinence in All Facets of His Life.

I laugh to myself at the thought of that. They never report on the good things. In fact, I should probably be worrying about Spence going to one of these tabloids with his story. Please, God, don’t let him do that. Please don’t let this cheating incident be news at home where Max may be confronted with it again.

I just want a fresh start, beginning right now. I know Max is the only one for me. I came out for him. If it wasn’t for his commitment to me and his certainty about me two years ago, I may not be here today. He saved me, and I am grateful for him.

Sitting down on the bed, I stare at a picture of the two of us on my tablet. We never talked about getting married, but I always imagined this particular picture of us displayed at a reception for us, after a wedding. It was inevitable. I had been equally certain of him for the past two years, too.

I call my father back.

“Carter McNare,” he answers, always in business mode.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Callen? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I want you to, um… can you find me some place to go to rehab… for alcohol? Somewhere I can go as soon as I get in tomorrow?”

“What?”

“I think I have, well… I think it could really become a problem, and I don’t want it to make my life any worse than it already has. I don’t want you and Mom to worry. I just want to handle it.”

“Wow, son. Okay. You’re sure?”

“I’m asking for help, Dad.”

I hear him sigh. “Consider it done. Your mother and I will meet you at the airport and we’ll take you there ourselves.”

“I thought you were leaving for Puerto Rico tomorrow morning.”

“It can wait.”

“Thank you.”