I had the driver stop at a drug store before going to the hotel and I was glad I had. I'd never been fond of taking sleeping pills since they made me sleep so deeply that I wasn't aware of my surroundings, but at the moment, they were better than the alternative of alcohol. At least the sleeping pills wouldn't give me a hangover. Plus, once I checked my room to make sure no one else was inside, I could bolt and lock the door and feel as safe as I did anywhere else – more than I did in my apartment. I ignored the little voice in the back of my head that said I'd be even safer with Rylan. That wasn't an option anymore.

For the next few days, I slept. I woke periodically to eat something or use the bathroom, but I didn't bother showering or changing my clothes. I turned down maid service and tried not to think. It was harder than one would imagine, even with the sleeping pills.

I'd never been the kind of person who could do things like stare at a television for hours, watching mindlessly. I always had to be doing something. Work. Reading. Anything to keep my mind busy. My therapist had mentioned once that, because my IQ was so high, my brain needed more than one thing to focus on or it got bored and I got distracted.

So I slept, and half-slept, and my mind followed whatever little trail it wanted to. Sometimes into the past, sometimes into the future. Always bleak and hopeless. I tried not to think about Rylan and our time together. That hurt too much. But I wasn't strong enough to resist it, especially when I was in that place half-way between sleep and awake. That was when he came to me.

I could see him clear as day. His dark hair. Those blue-violet eyes that darkened to almost purple when he wanted me. I could picture the Celtic cross that ran the length of his spine and across his shoulders, the way his muscles rippled beneath the tattooed skin. Strong jaw, lightly stubbled before he shaved. High cheekbones that emphasized his amazing eyes. He was the perfect combination of rugged and, well, pretty.

And then there was the way he looked at me, like I was something precious, to be protected. I could feel his fingertips caressing my face, almost as if he was afraid I'd break. His mouth gentle on mine. Then, firm and demanding. His body moving above me, behind me, inside me. He'd known what I needed, and had always put me first. He wanted to dominate me, but he'd been cautious, always making sure I was okay.

I could still hear his voice saying my name, calling me love. He'd worshipped my body, made it come alive, but he'd done so much more than that. He'd given me back my heart, my soul, and I'd given them right back to him. I'd submitted to him, let him fulfill fantasies that I'd never admitted, ones that I knew he wanted but would never ask because he'd known they were triggers for me. He'd told me about the BDSM lifestyle and offered to walk away from it for me.

Each time those things came back to me, whether in fragments or whole memories, my heart would break again. I missed him more than I'd ever thought I could miss someone. I missed the feel of him, and not just during sex. The safety I felt when in his arms. The warmth of his voice. His smile.

To make matters worse, he'd been calling me since Monday morning. And texting. And sending emails. By Tuesday, I'd turned off my phone. I didn't have anyone else who'd be calling me since I hadn't bothered to try contacting former clients yet.

I hadn't answered any of the attempts at contact, but I hadn't been able to stop myself from listening to the voicemails, reading the messages and emails. Yet another reason I'd turned off my phone. I wasn't sure which would've been worse, if he hadn't tried to contact me at all or hearing the pain in his voice, seeing it in his words.

“Jenna, love, please don't do this. Tell me how to fix it. If things were moving too fast, you moving in here, it's okay. I can step back. We can go as slow as you need to. Just, please, talk to me.”

“Was it something my parents or Suzette said? We don't have to go back again. I'll make sure they know that they're not welcome until they can accept you. I won't lose you over their ignorance. Call me. I love you.”

“Did I hurt you? Please, talk to me. I'm so sorry if I did something...Just tell me what it was. You know I'd never hurt you on purpose. Please, love. I need you.”

Gradually, I could hear the anger under the hurt, read it between the lines.

“You're quitting? What's going on? I thought things were good between us. I mean, we hadn't even been arguing. Was it because I didn't immediately tell off my parents for being rude? I told you that I'd choose you over them and I meant it.”

“I can't fix things if you don't tell me what happened. Talk to me, Jenna. You promised me, after the Lara thing, that you'd talk to me when you were upset. What the hell did I do wrong?”

Then came the voicemail that had made me decide to stop listening.

“When I said I loved you, I meant it, and I asked you not to say it back out of obligation. I truly believed you meant it that night, and every time since. If you didn't love me, you could've just said so. I would've understood and waited, or bowed out. It would've been kinder. Or was it that you didn't know until...is there someone else? Have you fallen in love with someone else and didn't know how to tell me? Do you love him or is he just a game to you? Was I?”

It was killing me, knowing that he thought this was his fault, that he'd done something wrong. That he was doubting my love for him. Better that than the alternative though. Even if I told him the truth, he'd insist it didn't matter and he'd be angry with Suzette for what she'd said to me. I couldn't drive a wedge between him and his family. With me out of the way, they'd mend things. Rylan's life would go back to normal. He'd be able to return to how things were before he met me and he'd be happy again.

That annoying little voice in the back of my head spoke up, reminding me of what he'd said after the Lara incident, how he'd sworn off relationships, not wanting to risk his heart until he'd found someone worth the risk. Guilt settled in my stomach, a heavy lump that weighed down every part of me. He'd trusted me with his heart and I'd violated that trust. After what Lara had done to him...my actions were reprehensible. But I had to believe that he would find someone truly worthy of him, someone who could give him everything I couldn't.

All of these thoughts and more swirled around and around in my head every day, pulling me down further and further into the darkness. After what I'd gone through as a child, I'd struggled with depression, and I'd thought I'd finally beaten it. I hadn't had a bout of it in a few years, not since moving out here. I'd believed that I'd left it behind in Florida, along with my real name and everything else that had symbolized who I'd been.

Now, I saw that it had always been there, lurking below the surface, just waiting for something like this to happen so that it could break through and swallow me. It was like drowning, or at least what I'd always imagined drowning would feel like. Struggling to keep my head above water, desperate for air, arms and legs fighting against the current until it was just too much. Giving up was so much easier than trying to stay afloat.

By Thursday evening, I knew I had to make a choice. I was at the turning point. I could give in and let myself wallow here until I finally ended things, or I could keep fighting. I didn't want to fight. I'd been fighting my whole life, even when I hadn't realized it. I'd tried to kill myself before, but I'd survived and kept fighting a bit longer. Even when I wished I'd die, I hadn't pursued the idea. I supposed I could still snap out of this on my own, but I also knew that if I gave in to it, there was a chance I'd never come back.

I fumbled with my phone, turning it on before I realized I'd made a choice. My heart thumped painfully against my ribcage when I saw that Rylan's calls had finally stopped. I ignored the couple messages he'd left yesterday and went to my contacts list. I hadn't dialed this number in a long time and I hoped it was still good since it wasn't her office line.

“Hello?” A vaguely familiar voice answered on the second ring.

“Dr. MacLeod, it's Jenna Lang.” My voice sounded weaker than I liked, but I pressed on. “I need to see you.”