The human heart is a strange and confusing place. That fist-sized organ that is so essential to our survival, is often the source of a great deal of our pain.

The heart is also amazing in its ability to be fickle, divided, and contrary. For instance, mine is capable of being simultaneously guilty and jealous over the same people. Green with envy for a man who lost his life months ago. But also guilty for what I did to him when he was alive. It makes no sense, but it’s become the driving force of my life. That, and avoiding sex. Because, well, I’m a sex addict.

“Dude, are you sure you don’t want to go back to L.A.?” my bandmate Blaze Davis asks as he stands in the doorway of the apartment I’m staying in in Portland. “It’s been a few months, you’re rock solid in your recovery. They have meetings and counselors in L.A. too.”

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as I stuff my hands in my front jeans pockets. “I like it here. I don’t mind staying. Everything’s a bit easier here for now.”

He shakes his head. “If you’re sure. You just always loved everything about L.A. so much. I know you have to live a quieter life now, but I’m having a hard time picturing you going without the L.A. energy. Living in a tiny apartment above a pub isn’t a long-term solution for you.”

“You’re living next door to doctors and tech billionaires, dude, hardly the rock star lifestyle.”

He chuckles. “True, but I’m an old almost-married man and my in-laws are here. You know Tully doesn’t feel like she can leave Savvy. It’s been nine months, but seeing Kevin murdered in front of her eyes isn’t the kind of thing Savvy’s going to recover from overnight.”

My heart and my guts both clench, that all-too familiar feeling of panic racing through me. And my vision is momentarily clouded by the image of Kevin’s blood pooled on the floor of the pub, dried at the edges, thick and coagulated everywhere else. I swallow to dispel the acid rising in my throat. I wasn’t there until a couple of days after it happened, but I saw enough when I finally got to Portland.

Dez and I came for the service and to put me into rehab. I was shoved into the apartment I’m still occupying, Tully’s old place over the bar where Kevin died. The bar he and Savvy owned. We all agreed that a hotel was highly impractical considering my penchant for picking up groupies by the dozens and fucking them blindly. So, that first night we arrived, Dez dropped me at the bar, and went on to a hotel. Savvy was staying at Blaze and Tully’s and things were way too sensitive to add any non-family members into the mix.

I could have simply come and gone through the back door to the kitchen. Headed straight up the stairs, pretended I wasn’t sleeping over a crime scene, but there was no way I was going to spare myself the proof of what had happened.

So, before I even took my bags upstairs, I walked from the kitchen to the front, around the big, old-fashioned bar Kevin had been standing behind the last time I saw him, and on to where crime scene tape still laid in pieces around the stains. The family was so engrossed in taking care of Savvy and her son, Ty, as well as planning services for Kevin, it was no wonder they hadn’t been by to clean up.

I stood there, in the midst of upturned tables, dirty glasses, and empty beer bottles, and I looked at the blood stain on the floor. Kevin’s heart pumped its last time on that worn wood, Savvy’s life was forever changed on that spot, and my heart broke for her. So I got down on my hands and knees and I scrubbed the last of him away, for her. I cleaned that floor until my own blood ran from my knuckles and my arms screamed for mercy so she wouldn’t have to face that again. I couldn’t turn back the clock on the rest of it, but damn if I didn’t make sure her floors looked like they had before all of it happened.

Then I stayed—after rehab, I went straight back to Portland and I stayed, because I couldn’t imagine not staying. I stay because it gives me something to focus on besides my addiction. I stay because I owe it—to both of them.

Because I might have wronged him in the most disrespectful way, but I will stand by her no matter what. No one needs to know, Blaze and Tully don’t have a clue, and they never will. I’ve sinned a hell of a lot in my life, and most of it I can’t ever fix. I can’t undo all the damage, but here I can try. I can stay, and I can help, I can watch, I can work and shelter and ease the way. I’m here to protect and care for Savvy Scott and no matter how many times Blaze and the other guys in my band question me, no matter how many times my agent asks if I’m ever coming back to L.A., no matter how many times Savvy herself tells me to go, I won’t.

I will protect her until my dying breath. Because not only do I owe it to Kevin, I owe it to her. I saddled her with something she never deserved, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make her life easier now. Savvy owns my ass from here on out, and I’m more than happy to give it to her.

“I’m good,” I tell Blaze as I walk to the kitchen to grab one of the dozen fancy health drinks I keep in the fridge. While my counselors have said I’m allowed to drink, we all know that the lessening of inhibitions is likely to send me into the arms of the nearest buxom twenty-two year old, so I’ve been abstaining from booze as well as women. But I hate coffee, and water gets dull after a few weeks, so I’ve taken to stocking up on every chia-seeded, wheatgrass-laden, Omega 3-filled fancy labeled health beverage the Portland Whole Foods has stocked.

So far, I hate every one of them.

“Garrett?” Blaze asks, his voice softer than normal.

“Yep?” I answer, not turning from the fridge where I’ve buried my head in avoidance.

“Is there anything you ought to tell me? If you’ve had a slip up, I’ll understand. It’s not easy, and more of us fall off the wagon than stay on it.”

It’s true, that if anyone would understand, it’s Blaze. He’s relapsed while fighting his drug addiction a few times, although I think this recovery will stick, because he has Tully, and he loves her too much to fuck up. But the thing is—I haven’t. I haven’t slipped up. Oh, I’ve been tempted to, trust me. I’ve wanted to do some really appalling things—but unlike when I was at my worst, I don’t want to do them to every woman I see. No, I only have urges when it comes to one woman these days. The one woman I can’t ever have. Just my luck. Cured, but cursed.

“I haven’t fallen off the wagon, man.” I pull out a bottle of some mango, flax, chia shit with green tea extract and pop the top off before I turn to face him, expression as flat as I can make it. “Honestly,” I continue as I take a swig of the nasty stuff and grimace, “it hasn’t been bad.”

He shakes his head. “I’m glad to hear it. Some days I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin if I don’t get some coke or a shot of whiskey. It’s not constant, but when it’s there it’s intense. I can’t imagine if my weakness were something that’s right there in front of me all the time—ready, willing, and encouraging me to fall back into it.”

Yeah, women, and sex with them, is a bitch of a thing to be addicted to. Especially when you’re a rock star. Because I can tell you there are a lot of women who want to have sex with you. Anytime, any place, any position or kink you desire, there is a woman ready to give it to you when you’re a rock star.

“Truth, dude. But I’m staying clean, and working my steps. I just happen to like it here in Portland. Is that so hard to believe?”

Judging by the look on Blaze’s face—yes, it is. But that’s okay, eventually he’ll quit worrying and wondering, and he and everyone else will get used to my new role—as barkeep extraordinaire slash handyman slash best big buddy to Ty, son of Savvy and Kevin, and the cutest damn kid I’ve ever seen. I know I have obligations elsewhere, to other people, but for now I’m staying right here where I’m needed.

Even if Savannah Scott doesn’t understand yet that I’m doing her penance for her so she can go on to have a beautiful life.