Chapter One

He could do this.

Seth Fisher clutched the armrests of his wheelchair in both hands and pushed himself to a standing position. He shuffled his feet until they were firmly planted under him, and then he reached for the cane he’d propped against the wheelchair.

Not wanting to give himself time to rethink his plan, he didn’t delay. Gripping the cane, he took a step toward the apartment door. Pain shot through his lower back and then his leg, and his thigh muscles burned with the added weight. The arm with the cane shook.

“Fuck.”

Why was this so hard for him? It wasn’t like he used the wheelchair all the time anymore. For the past few weeks he’d only been using it when he left the apartment, and only because he was too afraid he’d trip and pull something with just the cane. He didn’t want to think about how helpless he’d feel if he fell in front of anyone. When he was at home for long stretches, he stored the wheelchair in his closet, but anytime he attempted walking toward the door like he was going out using only the cane, his body would betray him.

Just like today.

He held still, taking several deep breaths. He forced himself to get moving again. Two steps and he had to stop once more. At the rate he was going, he wouldn’t even come close to completing this test before Dylan was done in the shower.

But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—turn back now.

He put another foot forward. Then another.

Finally he got close enough he could reach for the dead bolt lock. He got the door unlocked without any issue. Despite that success, his hand fell to his side. He took another deep breath, hoping that alone would calm the all-too-familiar fear.

The breathing wasn’t helping. Panic welled in his chest. He tried to raise his arm, but he couldn’t make a move. He stared at the closed door before him. The hope that he’d finally be able to do this on his own for the first time in two years began to slip away.

Then came that voice whispering in his ear, the feel of a heavy sweat-soaked body pressing down on him.

“You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. I will always be a part of you. Forever.”

No. “Fuck you, asshole. You’re not taking my entire life from me.” Surging forward, Seth cranked the doorknob and tugged the door open wide.

The dim, narrow hallway loomed before him. Beads of sweat formed across his brow. He tried again to slow his breathing using the technique Dr. Arteaga had taught him. Deep breath in through his nose, down to his belly. Out through his mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

Leaning forward, he scanned the hall in both directions. He could see nearly all the way to the stairwell on the left, as well as to the right where the hall turned a corner and led to the elevator and another set of stairs. The entire hallway was empty.

He moved his cane forward and crossed the threshold. When his feet were planted on the hall carpet, he stopped and waited for more of the intense panic to grab hold of him. Oddly there was nothing that time.

He shot a look back into the apartment behind him. The sound of music floated out from Dylan’s bedroom. With the thumping music on and the shower running, not to mention the low roll of thunder from the approaching storm outside, Dylan wouldn’t hear him holler for help. Which was why now was the perfect time for this. It wouldn’t be much of a test if Seth had too many opportunities to call in reinforcements.

Which was also why he’d left his cell phone behind. He had to see if he could do this on his own.

He shut the apartment door and locked it, an action both he and Dylan always insisted on. He pocketed his keys and took a single stride away, using the cane for assistance. He held still once more.

Was this too much?

Did he really need to do this right now?

“I know what you need. You need to cry, scream, let it all out. Let me hear you.”

“Screw you.”

He was doing this.

He had to do this.

He forced that menacing voice from his mind and started forward again. The earlier pain and panic had subsided. Nothing but determination surged through him.

It was time. He was ready for this.

He took another step, then another, the momentum building with each foot forward. He kept on going, gaining confidence the farther he made it and the more apartment doorways he passed by.

He paused again and glanced back in the direction of his place. He was halfway down the hall. Had he really gone that far?

A sharp crack of thunder tore through the hallway. Seth jumped. His heartbeat kicked up a notch, and sweat trickled down his temples.

Then came the faint, heavy thud of footsteps. From the direction of the elevator hidden around the corner at the end of the hall.

Seth sucked in a sharp breath and held it.

He was being stupid. He knew it. Other people lived in the building. Someone was usually always headed somewhere. He just couldn’t stop the reaction.

All at once the chipped, painted surfaces of the hall walls began to ripple like they were flags blowing in the wind. They closed in around him. His heart felt like it was racing too hard and too fast. His throat tightened, and his legs shook. Then his field of vision shrank as the footfalls grew louder.

He couldn’t move. Either forward or back. He clutched his cane tighter and laid his free hand against the closest wall to steady himself.

Goddammit.

He thought he was ready. Thought it had been long enough. Thought he could talk himself through the fear.

But now… he had to get back to the apartment before whoever was coming got any closer. Or before he passed out right there in the hallway.

Without taking his eyes off the far end of the hall, he backtracked a couple of steps. Just then a man rounded the corner.

Not just any man. Not a neighbor. Not a random visitor.

It was Prescott.

Seth froze.

Prescott didn’t. His eyes locked with Seth’s, and he started forward faster. “Stay right there. I’m coming.”

That voice. Seth would never forget that vile, raspy sound. In none of his previous panic attacks had he ever heard that voice out loud.

This wasn’t his imagination.

This time, it was Prescott.

Seth had been right all along. No sentencing, no prison, no lack of parole opportunities could ever keep that man from coming for him, from wanting to lock him away again.

Prescott picked up the pace. He held up a hand. “Don’t move.”

Don’t move? Seth needed to run. He needed to do something. Anything. God, he couldn’t just stand there and let this happen to him again.

Move, idiot!

“You’re such a good boy. Stay right there. I’m coming. I’m not leaving you behind.”

Fuck that.

Seth scrambled backward, tripping over the end of his cane. He landed on his hip with a thud, the cane sprawling out of his reach. Without more than a split-second hesitation, he shifted onto his hands and knees and lunged forward. Pain shot through his left knee. He got a hold of the cane and dragged it toward him. Using the cane for leverage, he pushed to his feet. As soon as he was standing, he rushed forward, heading toward his apartment door, limping but moving faster than he’d ever done in his physical therapy or at any other time since he’d last tried to get away from this man.

The footsteps drew closer, louder, more forceful.

Seth kept on going. He shoved a hand into his pocket for his keys and finagled the ring out as he traversed the last few steps.

When he reached the apartment door, he heard Prescott’s heavy breathing behind him.

Then he felt it on the back of his neck.

He fumbled with the keys as he tried to get the door unlocked. A hand brushed across his right shoulder in a soft caress. Then the hand grabbed hold of him.

Seth swung the apartment door open and stumbled inside, whipping around to shove the door closed at the same time. Only…

There was no one there. The hall outside the apartment was empty.

A different voice called out for him.

“Seth, you okay?” His neighbor Ryder appeared in the doorway, out of breath and sporting a concerned expression. As soon as he caught sight of Seth, he held up a hand in a non-threatening gesture that signaled he wasn’t a danger to him. “What happened?”

Seth braced himself on his cane with one hand and the doorjamb with the other. Ryder stepped back and gave him room as Seth leaned forward and glanced both ways down the hall.

No one was there.

He’d imagined the entire thing, maybe putting Prescott’s face in place of Ryder’s. He’d never done anything like that before.

He shook his head when he realized Ryder was intently studying him. “I’m okay. It was nothing.”

“You sure? You look freaked as hell, man. Did you try leaving the apartment by yourself?”

“Yeah.”

Alarm spread across Ryder’s face.

“I only made it halfway down the hall. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want. Next time you need to go somewhere just shoot me a text. I’ll be right over.”

“I will.” Seth wanted to tell Ryder how much that meant, but he didn’t want to embarrass him. Ryder was still a kid in many ways, albeit a massive kid. Whenever Seth went anywhere with him, it was clear that a lot of people passing them on the street mistook Ryder for stupid or slow, or a criminal or a gang member, but those assessments were ridiculous. Evidence that judgmental, racist assholes were alive and well throughout the world. Ryder didn’t deserve that shit. He was nothing but honest and compassionate. A bighearted high schooler who loved video games, his grandma, and Seth’s dog Charlie.

“Here.” Ryder held out a covered casserole dish. “Grandma made extra last night.”

She always did. Georgia and Ryder never failed to make Seth feel like he had a family. “Tell her I said thanks.” He set the dish on the hall table beside the door.

“Sure. You need me to take Charlie out?”

“Nah. Dylan’s here.”

“Okay. Guess I gotta get going, then.” Ryder took a step away from the door, then halted. “You let me know if you wanna try leaving alone again. If you really gotta do it by yourself, I can always wait inside the apartment. You can call me if you get stuck or something.”

“That’s a deal. Thanks, Ryder.”

The kid shrugged, then gave another long assessing look at Seth.

Even without that examination, it was obvious Ryder worried about him. A lot. Especially once he’d found out that, without a spleen, Seth was more likely to get sick or develop serious infections. Seth hated that Ryder had any anxiety because of him.

“I’m okay. Really.”

“All right, man. See you tomorrow.” Ryder offered a nod in goodbye and then took off down the hall toward his place.

When he was out of earshot, Seth slammed the door shut and slapped his free hand against it. “Fuck.” He couldn’t ignore that he needed a teenager’s help to walk down the damn hall of his apartment building.

The last time he’d attempted leaving the apartment alone, it had been bad, but nothing like what he just went through. How the hell had his mind played that kind of fucked-up trick on him? And why was his reaction to heading out alone even worse than months earlier? After all the talking with Dr. Arteaga, all the exposure therapy and anxiety management, why did he seem worse all of a sudden?

He spun around and sank back against the door, dropping his cane in the process. He swiped the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand. He would not cry.

He wouldn’t.

He banged his head on the wood surface behind him in frustration. Then he did it again for good measure.

Dylan’s voice rang out. “Seth?”

Seth gave his eyes another swipe.

Dylan appeared at the end of the hall. “You okay?”

How many times would he have to answer that question before people no longer took one a look at him and felt compelled to ask?

He tried for another one of Dr. Arteaga’s calming breaths, and then he carefully bent sideways and reached for the cane where it had landed propped against the hall table. The action sent a twinge shooting across his lower back. He did his best to ignore it. “Just dropped my cane.” He held it up so Dylan could see he’d gotten hold of the cane again.

No way did he want anyone else knowing that he’d had another panic attack, not after all this time. And not just any attack. The worst one yet. If Dylan found that out, he’d never leave him alone that night.

And Seth needed him to.

Because no matter what had just happened in the hall, he was going to make it through one night alone in the apartment for the first time since he’d come home from the hospital.

He wouldn’t fail again.