I didn’t tell the taxi to take me home. I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t want to talk to anyone. I knew the perfect place.

When I walked into Walt’s bar Jessie immediately came to my side.

“Whiskey sour?” she asked, her voice full of empathy.

I nodded, knowing I wouldn't actually drink most of it. I didn’t want to get wasted. Hanging out at the bar was just better than going home, crying myself to sleep and waking up to nightmares.

I sat on a stool at the far end of the bar by myself. The bar patrons left me alone. They were used to my presence, so walking in wearing a leather corset and knee high boots didn’t cause a second look anymore. Besides, Walt, the bar’s owner, kept the guys in line. Any inappropriate words or comments and they were out on their ass.

Jessie kept throwing me worried looks so I knew Gael had told her at least part of the story. She spent the night busy with work so at least I didn’t have to talk to her.

I’d been there about half an hour, surfing mindlessly on my phone as I nursed my drink, when someone approached the table.

“Mind if I sit?” a young woman asked.

I looked up from the screen.

Natalie stood in front of me. A French braid pulled her hair back from her pretty oval face. My eyes immediately went to her ring.

She lifted her hand to give me a closer look. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” She let out a happy sigh, her eyes going soft as she examined it for what was probably the thousandth time. “He did a perfect job of picking it out.”

“It looks good on you.”

And it did. The solitaire diamond in a platinum band had that sort of timeless, classic style perfectly suited to her.

“Do you mind if I sit?” she asked again, gesturing to the empty seat next to me.

Yes.

“No,” I said. Go ahead.”

She took a seat on the stool, not caring about the cracked leather with foam stuffing peeking out, or the bar’s sticky surface. Either she had gotten used to the place by now, or she really didn’t mind.

“Can I assume running into you isn’t a coincidence?” I asked.

She gave me a sympathetic look. “Gael called Jessie who called Morris who told me that you’d had a rough night.”

“You could say that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

If I didn’t feel like talking to my own brother about it, I sure as hell didn’t want to talk to Morris’s fiancée.

“You don’t have to.” Natalie's eyes grew sad. “I just know how difficult it’s been for Morris recently. Especially today. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

No. She couldn’t. Very few people could.

“I can do the talking, if you like,” she offered with a small smile. “It’s sort of my specialty.”

She’d come all the way and was sitting right next to me. I couldn’t very well say no without sounding like a bitch.

“What’s there to say?” I asked instead. “We all know what happened. We lost someone we loved. It was traumatic. But it’s been five years. We’ve worked through our issues. Today’s just harder than most. Tomorrow will be easier.”

“Have you?” she asked quietly

“Have I what?”

“Worked through your issues.”

I stared into my half-finished whiskey sour. The lemon floated in the drink, bobbing up and down. My trembling hand was making the glass shake. “I thought I had.”

But maybe I hadn’t. It seemed like every time something triggered my memory of Harper, I pushed it down or ignored it or ran away. I knew those were unhealthy coping mechanisms. Even after years, the wounds still hadn’t healed. Maybe they never would.

“I think Morris is right,” Natalie said.

“About what?”

“You should write a song together. About him. About Harper.”

“All my songs are about Harper.”

“Your songs are about pain and anger, grief and loss.”

“What else would they be about?”

“Love,” she said simply. ”Acceptance. Releasing all those feelings you’ve been suppressing and dealing with them.”

“Catharsis,” I murmured.

“Yes,” she nodded emphatically.

“I don’t know…” I said hesitantly.

“I’m sure your fans would love it,” she said encouragingly. “You’d probably get a lot of positive reviews.”

“Why does that matter?”

"Don't you want everyone talking about how great you and the band are?" She gave me a knowing look. "Don't you want to prove yourself to everyone?"

“You think you know me so well?”

“You’re not hard to read,” she said. “Everyone knows how hard you work. You push yourself and your band to your limits.”

“Since when is working hard a bad thing?”

“It’s not, if you’re doing it for the right reasons,” she said. “But maybe, you’re always focusing on your work, you’re always focusing something outside of yourself, because you want to try and forget about what’s going on inside of you.”

"What are you, my therapist?”

“I’m Morris’s girlfriend. Fiancée,” she corrected herself. “I’ve seen the same thing with him. He’s so dedicated to that youth center, to those kids. He wants to save them from the streets, like he couldn’t save Harper. It’s a coping mechanism.”

I went silent and thought about what she’d said.

Was I using my work to deflect my feelings? It was true I hadn’t had nightmares in years. Not since we’d started the band, really. I thought I was over it. I was so focused on hitting it big.

It wasn’t until I’d met Liam that all those old feelings began to rise to the surface. I hadn’t learned how to deal with them properly, so I dealt with them by running away.

“Morris is so full of pain and anger and grief,” Natalie said. “Just like you. But he’s found a healthy outlet by helping these kids. He’s learned to face his demons head on. I don’t know if throwing yourself into your work to distract yourself is good for you in the long run. You’re not dealing with your problems. You’re suppressing them.”

I took a long pull of my drink to avoid having to respond.

Natalie was right. I thought I was over it. I thought I’d come to terms with Harper’s death.

But I’d only been ignoring my problems. Focusing on something else.

“Shit,” I cursed quietly. I put my head down on the bar, ignoring a sticky spot on my cheek and closing my eyes.

“It’s not too late,” Natalie said. “There are people out there who want to help you.”

“I've been to therapy. I learned all about breathing exercises and overcoming negative thought patterns."

“Therapy is always good," she nodded. “But it's not just that. You’ve got friends, family, loved ones who are more than willing to help you, talk with you, just be with you when you need someone. I know it helps Morris to have me to talk to during the bad days. You’ve got people who love you, too. You don’t need to handle this all by yourself.”

Loved ones.

My mind flashed to Liam.

I’d thought, maybe—

But after the way he’d acted…

“Why did he have to be such an ass?” I muttered.

Natalie blinked. “Who? Morris?”

“No.” I shook my head, but it was still face-planted on the bar, so all I managed to do was smear more sticky substance all over my cheek. “Liam.”

She made a thoughtful sound. “Morris mentioned something about that. I feel for the guy.”

I opened my eyes to squint at her. “Feel for him?”

“He doesn’t really like Morris. I get it. I used to be jealous of you, too.”

“Me?” I asked, surprised.

“Morris was always taking about his best friend Harper. I found a picture of all three of you. I thought Harper was a girl for the longest time. I thought she was you. It was really hard.” As she spoke, the words came out faster and faster, as if she couldn’t slow down. “It’s really hard being with someone who you think is still in love with someone else. Especially a loved one from the past. How do you possibly compete with that, when there’s so much history there?”

I’d never thought of it that way. I knew Liam was worried about me and Morris, but that was ridiculous. We were just friends.

But how could Liam know that for sure? We did have a history together. I had been sad at his engagement.

And Liam did have a history of loved ones leaving him for someone else. His mom had left and started a whole other family. His girlfriend had left him for his best friend.

Still. Accusing someone of cheating on you was horrible.

There were some issues you couldn't just get over.