It’s difficult. Difficult to process the fact that Hunter has gone to war because I broke his heart. If something happens to him, I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life. It’s difficult to keep living, to find my way back into life, now that my love is in danger on the other side of the globe.

Every night, I lie awake, blaming myself for what I’ve done. Because I hurt him, he saw no other way out but to walk straight into the most dangerous place in the world. How could I do that to him?

Every morning, Carey gives me a sympathetic look, and I can tell from his eyes that I look miserable. Even if Hunter were to come back this very moment, we would never have a chance because I look like a ghost. Surely he wouldn’t want me like this. But I can’t seem to get back on track… I’m lost. I’ve fallen, and I don’t know how to get back up.

Sheila and Jean have been here a few times, but even they weren’t able to drag me out of this dark place. Since Hunter’s premature flight and my breaking it up with Carter, I stay at Shanes. He did everything in his power to cheer me up, but there was no point. Carey’s been a real rock. Without him…I don’t know what I’d do. Knowing this is all my own fault…

How could I be so stupid? If things had played out the other way around, I would have been crushed. In trying to do the right thing that fateful morning, I did the wrong thing.

And today…I’m sitting at the breakfast table in shambles. Just like every morning.

“That’s enough,” says a stern voice behind me.

“Leave me alone, Shane,” I mumble.

He grabs me under the arms and carries me, screaming, into the bathroom. He turns on the water and puts me under it, PJs and all. “Look at it as an intervention.”

“I hate you.”

“I can live with that. You’ve locked yourself up in your pain and guilt long enough. You made a mistake, yes, and maybe he’s never going to forgive you for it, but there’s no point hiding from the world. So you’re going to get cleaned up and dressed, and then you’re coming to work with me.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I don’t care.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Mackenzie Hall, either you’re going to get cleaned up right now, or I will do it. But if I have to, I’m going to use the high-pressure hose at the studio. Take your pick.”

I hear an amused laugh outside the door and feel the urge to bash Carey’s teeth in. “Yeah. Very funny.”

“Three.”

“Stop it. I’m not a child.”

“Two.”

“Man, you’re not my boss.”

“Technically speaking, I am. One.”

“Okay, okay. Get out. I’m going to take my clothes off.”

He gives me a serious look. “You’ve got ten minutes. If you’re not clean and outside ready to go, I’m coming back in.”

“Okay, slave driver.”

He leaves the room and closes the door.

This man… He acts like he’s my master. But I’m a little afraid he would actually use bleach and a high-pressure hose on me, so I take off my wet clothes and lather up. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.

When I’m finished, I wrap a towel around myself and open the door.

“Finished.”

Shane hands me underwear, jeans, and a sweater. “Put this on.”

I grab my clothes, horrified. “Have you been rummaging through my underwear drawer, Shane?”

“Yes. I picked out the nicest panties I could find. Dry your hair and do something about those shadows under your eyes.”

“Asshole.”

“Get moving!”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Yeah, try to convince yourself of that. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

Even though I hate him for this, I do what he says. When I’m ready, I can’t believe it, but I actually feel better. Much better. What a little personal hygiene can do…

“Everything okay?” Carey asks when I get to the kitchen. I nod. “You look nice,” he adds quietly.

“So, I haven’t been looking so good the past few days?”

“Not so good, no.”

Before I can reply, I hear Shane’s voice from the other room. “Ready to go?”

“Fine!” I call back.

“Okay then, let’s go!”

On our way into work, Shane keeps up a steady stream of chatter. He’s happy, and obviously trying to cheer me up. And I’m grateful he’s trying.

“Welcome home,” he says quietly as we walk through the door of the studio, which has been such a safe haven for me in the past. I’ve missed it since I stopped working here regularly. In a lucid moment at the start of all this, I called in for some time off. I never thought it would end up being several weeks, but… It just didn’t feel right to go back to work. What a luxury of a problem to have, right? To have a job that allows you to come and go as you please?

But it feels good to finally be back here. Here, where everything started. Here, where I rewrote my story. Here, where I became the hero of my own story.

“Hey, sweetness,” Sheila says as she gives me a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here, too,” I say, the tears starting up.

“Don’t cry, sweetie. Everything’s going to be fine.”

I nod but don’t believe her.

“What are you standing around for?” Jean calls. “My class is starting in five minutes, and you’re going to work it until sweat is pouring out of every single one of your pores.”

“Jean, leave her alone…”

I raise my hand and smile slightly, the first smile in what feels like years. “I’m coming.” I’m grateful Jean’s being his usual self with me. I really don’t want to be treated like a porcelain doll anymore. That’s not what I am. Maybe at the moment, I’m a little breakable, but not usually. I’m tough. Even if I forgot it for a while there.

I hurry into the changing rooms, take my gym clothes out of my locker, and get changed, before I sprint into the training room.

“You’re late!” Jean calls. “Fifty push-ups!”

Great start. I get down on the floor and start them, my knees on the floor.

“No way!” Jean interrupts. “Like we’re pussies here. No women’s push-ups. Real ones! And if you don’t get your ass moving, you can do a hundred!”

If I had daggers, I would throw them at his chest. But as it is, I have to do the push-ups. Usually, I can do a hundred no sweat, but I’ve been so lazy these past few weeks. Not just after what happened—even before that I wasn’t around as much with all the other work I was trying to do. I had this other job, other commitments for a different charity.

After twenty push-ups, my arms collapse. I simply can’t convince the Jell-O in them to harden.

Instead of screaming like he usually does when I can’t do any more, Jean kneels down beside me, pats my head, and says, “Good girl.” He helps me up and looks around at the rest of the class. “What are you all looking at? Ten push-ups, all of you! Come on!” He winks at me.

After that, we have to jog in place and do jumping jacks, then endless combinations of punching and kicking. At the end of the class, I feel like I’ve just emerged from a meat grinder, but I’ve also come to the realization that I have a lot more strength and power than I ever thought.

After another shower, I go to reception to see Sheila, who brings me a young woman. The new girl looks intimidated, but there’s a fire inside her. The same fire Shane saw in me way back when.

It feels like ages since I worked with a patient. The other job is more marketing, more talking with higher ups, asking for support, giving speeches. But now, back here, I ask myself: why did I ever think I wanted more than this? This, talking to the victims, to the women who have been through hell…this is what I want. Maybe I should rethink whether I’m doing what is right for me.

I know I can achieve much more working there, but, on the other hand, that job isn’t giving me the same level of satisfaction I get from helping individual people. I like to see the results of my effort. I like to see that I can actually make a change. I miss that. I do.

But there’s a reason they say, Don’t make important decisions when you’re emotional.

Still, I’m going to keep this feeling in mind.

A few hours later, Carey picks me up, and we drive to the mall. We watch a movie and share a popcorn and nachos before heading to Shane’s. And for the first time in weeks, I get more than two hours of sleep. Progress.