They don’t tell you how to act once you’re out. Sure, they tell you how to act when you’re on the inside. When to eat, when to sleep. When you can make calls to your loved ones. But now that I’m out, all I can do is walk away from the place I’ve been for the past year. And there’s only one thing on my mind as I do it.

The gate buzzes and opens, and there’s Alec with his Mustang and a smile cast down at the gravel beneath his feet. I don’t want him to look at me. I know what I must look like right now.

The air smells different now. Alec slaps the hood of his car and looks up at me, and he brings me in for a strong embrace as I drop my bag of personal effects on the ground. He looks exactly the same. It still feels like I’m seeing myself out here.

“Get in,” he says, circling the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

We hum along through the outskirts of town,past the rolling hills, barren with the beginnings of frost and cold, hard soil; between the roads cut out of the stone of the ground and branches of the trees as make our way closer to home.

“Anything happen in the past year?” I ask, grabbing Alec’s chrome lighter and pack of Reds off the center console. I haven’t had a cigarette in a few hours. That’s one of the bad habits I’ve let seep into my bones over the past several months. Mom hated it, but once she passed, I was able to stop being sneaky with my bad habit. I inhale sharply and let the nicotine flood my veins, popping the chrome lighter shut. I exhale out the window and flick the ashes off the end of my cigarette.

“What a fucking question. No.” Alec lets out a light chuckle and grazes his hands easily over the steering wheel. “That douche bag Andy got married to Katie and apparently they live in the city now in some brownstone.”

“I remember that guy was good at math,” I say, wiping my hand on my knee and checking the time. I take another drag from the cigarette. “Don’t remember much else about him.”

“Where am I taking you?” he asks. There’s a strain between us, and it hangs thick in the air like rust.

“My place.”

We aren’t far out from my house, and when we get there Alec’s tires crush gravel. The driveway’s been cleared of snow, but the blades of the lawn are stabbing up through the white powder.

“Your handiwork?” I ask, getting out of the car and looking up at the old house. I spent so much time away from it, and it shows.

“Yeah,” Alec responds, getting out with a hand hooked around the back of his neck. “Sorry I couldn’t do more. The ground’s been covered for the past two weeks. It started early this winter.”

“I know,” I say, swinging my bag over my shoulder. “We were allowed to go outside.”

The steps are splintered and swollen with water and heavy leaves, the effect of not being shoveled or swept. Fuck, I don’t think the snow even had time to fully melt between last year and this year.

Once inside, the place isn’t any better. I flip on the lights in the hallway with Alec behind me. The place smells of old water and mildew. I should torch the place, but I worked too hard to try to save it just to let it go up in flames.

“You have some money saved up, don’t you?” Alec puts a hand on the banister and rocks himself back and forth. It doesn’t budge; it shouldn’t. It’s old craftsmanship, and it shows. The house is structurally sound. It’s just the shit on the surface that’s turned.

“Yeah.” I cough, clearing my throat. I check the lights in each of the rooms, throwing the switches up as I make my way through the house. The lights in the back of the house are out, probably an issue with the circuit.

Alec sits down on the couch with a sigh as I go over to the front door and into the sunroom off to the side. All the lights in Daisy’s house are off. Shit, I don’t even know if it’s her house anymore. She could have up and left in the past year. I never called her. Never wrote. But I thought about her all the time. She kept me going. And I didn’t just do it for Alec. I did it for her. It was my penance. My debt to society. A way to right the wrongs and make me good enough for her. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realize how fucked up it really was. If she’s moved on, then I don’t blame her.

I don’t have any resentment. Not for Alec. Not for myself.

Fuck, maybe it actually worked. Maybe getting away and paying for all the shit I’ve done in my life has rehabilitated me.

I might not have been guilty that night, but I’ve done enough bad shit to make up for it.

I don’t have any smokes. Had my last one in prison, snuck it while I was in the can. It might have been a risk. If I’d been caught, I could have landed my ass in even more trouble. But I didn’t get caught, and my release went smoothly, on the day it was scheduled.

I glance over my shoulder at Alec. He’s still sitting on the couch, with his hands on his knees. He looks like he’s ready to pounce.

Coming back through the sunroom, I see a few of the potted plants my mom used to keep here. I should have gotten rid of them last year, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. They’ve died, but not before they outgrew their vessels. My heart contracts as I go back into the house. It fucking kills me to see the place like this. I can’t bear to look at it anymore.

“You want to come with me to the gas station? I need a pack of smokes.”

“Never knew you to be a smoker like me,” he says, getting up and brushing off his knees.

“I guess it’s my thing now,” I say, squaring up my shoulders and stretching my arms over my head. Shit, my body feels like it’s taken a beating. I head back to the door and hear Alec stop behind me.

“And what about her?” His question taunts me. Hell, it’s not his fault for asking. He was going to do it some time. But he didn’t have to come out and say it right away.

I clench and unclench my fists. “Yeah?” I ask. “What about her?”

“What are you going to do?”

I look back over my shoulder. He was always an inquisitive fucker. He never just let things be. He always wanted answers. And he’s a fucking romantic. I should have known this would come up.

Even still, my heart can’t take it. I look out through the window on the side of the house, over to where Daisy lives. Used to live, still lives, doesn’t matter. I know where she is. She’s in my heart. And I’ll be damned if I don’t find a way to get her back into my life, too.