My phone buzzes against the end table.

Fuck. I thought I turned that off.

Who the hell is texting at this hour?

I squeeze my eyes shut. Rub my temples. My head is still aching. It's been aching nonstop for days. Ever since I saw Iris's heartbreak written all over her face.

I did that.

But she—

Fuck.

This still doesn't make any sense.

I pull my arms over my head. Let out a heavy exhale.

That must be her.

Whatever it is, I'm not ready to hear it.

I'm not ready to piece this together.

My cell's notification light blinks. It mocks me with its brightness.

I turn over. Pull the blanket over my head. Block out every bit of light in the room.

It doesn't help.

My head keeps pounding.

My thoughts stay on her.

All the sincerity in her blue eyes.

How much of it was real? Was she high when she was with me? Did she sneak off to the bathroom to swallow a handful of pills?

I don't know what to believe.

I toss and turn forever. Eventually, my thoughts slow. I drift into an uneasy sleep.

I dream about her.

I wake up wishing she was here.

Fuck, this isn't how it's supposed to go.

I'm supposed to hate her more than I want her.

It should be like one of those angry breakup songs. How could you do this? How could you lie to me? I don't need shit from you anymore.

It is…

But there's this other verse.

Come back. Explain. I miss you. I need you. I'm pretty sure I love you.

I get up. Piss. Brush my teeth. Wash my face. Make coffee. It's good shit. French roast.

But it makes me think of her.

Everything I do as I get ready makes me think of her.

I check the time on my cell. It's early enough for this.

And there's her text.

Two words.

I'm sorry.

I don't want to believe it.

But I do.

* * *

The cold water numbs my hands and feet.

It wakes up my tired brain.

It sends all my thoughts right back to Iris.

I paddle past the break point. Watch waves form and crash on the sand. Wait for the right set.

Turn my board. Catch a wave. Hop to my feet.

It's an amazing ride.

But I barely feel it.

I barely manage to balance.

My head isn't in the game.

It's on Iris.

The way she smiled as she propped herself up on her surfboard.

The way she looked at me like I could take all her pain away.

All that shaking in her shoulders as she tried to tell me.

The way it stopped when I promised it didn't matter.

I spend the entire morning at the beach. I catch wave after wave. I manage to clear my head enough to balance.

But I still drive home thinking of her.

I still shower thinking of her.

I still get dressed wanting to wrap my arms around her.

* * *

I muster up the enthusiasm to high-five my customer on his way out the door. He sat through a huge piece of ink. It's a badass design. The kind of thing that usually excites me. That usually demands every bit of my attention.

It helped. It did.

Iris stayed in the back of my mind.

But now that my distraction is gone, my brain is flashing a neon sign. Iris in capital letters.

I force a smile as the guy walks away. It fades as soon as I turn into the shop. We're past our usual closing time. Except for Ryan and Leighton whispering over something at the counter, the place is empty.

They look cozy. Strangely cozy given Ryan's usual attitude toward conversation.

His misery finally makes sense to me.

It's like I'm missing a limb.

But it's worse. Because it's like the limb told me to go fuck myself and removed itself from my body.

All right, that doesn't make any sense.

I'm not an idiot. I get that this is my doing as much as hers. But that knowledge doesn't help with the ache in my gut or the pounding in my head.

I need a drink.

Or twelve.

How can I be pissed at her for using when I'm willing to let whiskey wash all this away?

The logic does nothing to soothe me. Or warm the ice around my heart. Or get the I hate her and the I need her halves of my brain to make up.

She should have told me. We both know that.

But then it shouldn't have mattered. Not this much. I meant it. I did want her exactly as she is. I did believe the past was the past.

But what if it wasn't the past?

What if she's still using? Or thinking about using?

Fuck. She could be high right now.

She could be as desperate to get out of her head as I am.

Ryan turns to me and nods. He motions to his suite. Let's talk.

Uh…

I'm not sure Ryan has ever wanted to talk to me.

Lecture me, yeah.

Deliver news, sure.

Go over some business shit, of course.

But conversation about something other than work?

No. I'm getting ahead of myself. It might be about work. Maybe he's finally going to stop vetoing all potential new hires as not serious enough.

He moves to his suite. Shoots me a get the fuck over here now look.

All right. I take the bait. It can't be worse than the thoughts going around my head.

I join him.

He shakes his head, sending his wavy hair all over the place. "You're an asshole."

"That it?"

"You flung your girl's dirty laundry all over the room."

"She's not my girl anymore." I lean against the divider wall. "What's it to you?"

He shrugs.

"That's it?" Seriously, what the fuck?

"Yeah."

"What? Am I stealing your thing?"

"Fuck no. You don't wear misery like I do."

Fair enough. It's natural on Ryan. Like he was born with a frown. Hell, I barely remember him with a smile. He was never the happiest guy in the world, but when he was around Penny…

"You love her, huh?"

"Why do you care?"

"Fuck, Dean was right. You're stupid."

"How the fuck do you know about that?"

"He's my brother." He taps his head in the duh motion. "You do realize you're my friend?"

"Yeah. And?" We're not exactly buddy-buddy. We rarely speak. Don't get me wrong. I like Ryan. I want the best for him. But I'm not expecting an invite to be his groomsman… in some parallel universe where he's interested in love.

"Believe it or not, I don't want to see the entire world miserable."

"You've been sulking over your ex cheating for a year."

"And?"

"It's been a few days."

"You like being miserable?"

"Do you?"

"That's not the point."

"Yeah, it is." I'm done with this conversation. I can be a miserable asshole if I want. If anyone understands that, it should be Ryan. "What? You get free rein to hate the world but I don't?"

"I don't sulk."

"Yeah, you do."

He shakes his head stupid kids. "It's not that she cheated."

"What is it?"

"She's gone. Yeah, I hate her for sleeping with that asshole. But, no matter how much I hate her, there's a gaping hole in my chest the size of her."

"You'd take her back?"

"I don't know. Doesn't matter. She's still with him."

"You really keep tabs?" The pounding in my head lessons. Fuck, it's nice thinking about someone else's problems. About anything that isn't how much I hate Iris. And how much I want her.

"People talk."

"You don't look at other women."

"I'm not doing it again."

"But you could fuck half the girls you ink."

"If I was an asshole who preyed on my customers, yeah."

"Please. I only fuck women who beg me for it."

"Whatever you want to believe."

"Don't make me go into detail."

"Doesn't bother me."

"I will."

He shrugs and?

I shoot him my best side-eye. "You could find girls easy."

"I don't want to fuck some chick I won't remember."

"Why?"

He shakes his head. "It would take too long to explain it to you."

"So you've gone a year?"

"So what?"

"A year? How the fuck do you live?"

"I have a hand."

"Still."

He rolls his eyes. "I have standards."

"You don't ever want to love someone again?"

"Do you?"

Fair enough. But I don't want to talk about me. I don't want to think about how fucked this is. "You and Leighton—"

"Are friends."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. She thinks I'm a miserable bastard."

"You are."

He flips me off.

"You do hang a lot."

"So do the two of you."

True. But she doesn't smile at me the way she smiles at him. And Ryan only smiles around her. "Would you fuck her?"

"She's not interested."

"If she asked?"

"Fuck off." His cheeks flush. He shakes his head. Actually stammers over his words. "I'm lecturing you here."

"This topic is better."

"For you."

"Yeah." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. That pounding deepens. Heaviness spreads over my body. It's like a switch. Thinking about Iris, pain. Thinking about anything else, relief. "Does that gaping hole in your chest ever go away?"

"No. But it gets better." His expression gets intense. Well, more intense. Ryan is always intense. "Did you really tell her the past is the past?"

"Yeah."

"That makes you the asshole."

"I know."

"She didn't do anything wrong."

"She should have told me."

"Is that really why you're miserable?"

"Yeah." What the hell else could it be?

"Bullshit. It's something else. I don't know what. But it's not that she didn't tell you."

"It is."

He shakes his head. "You should fix this."

"I can't."

"You can."

"All right, I can. But I don't want to."

"'Cause you convinced her to keep a secret?"

No. "Fuck off." Asshole is right.

But it's more than that.

I did convince her to keep this a secret.

But now I don't know what to believe.

If any of it was real.

I know addicts. And they're full of shit.

"You care about her?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"You still want to make her happy?"

"Part of me does."

"Tell the other part to get lost. She made you happy, Walker. That's fucking rare. Get over yourself and get her back."

"What if I don't?"

"You probably won't. You've been a fucking idiot about it. No reason to believe you'll change."

"Then why this talk?"

He shrugs.

"You want to help."

"No shit."

"You want to believe in love."

He shakes his head you're crazy. But there's something in his eyes. He does.

"You want to get a drink?"

"Not if I'm gonna have to cart your plastered ass home."

I chuckle. "You're more fun than you let on."

"Don't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"You know I'm gonna keep lecturing you."

"I know." Part of me hopes he gets through to me.