The ceiling above me comes into focus, and I shift my gaze to scan my dark bedroom. Reaching out, I pluck my phone off my nightstand and check the time: 11:24PM.

Blinking rapidly, I suck in a couple of breaths, none of them deep enough to refill my deprived lungs. In a matter of moments, I’ll be reliving the very worst day of my life. The day I lost everything.

In a matter of moments, it’ll be the one-year anniversary of when I lost my husband and my son. And I thought, all day long, that I was prepared.

I was so very wrong.

This morning, I ran with Flash. I was distracted, allowing Nitro to pick up my guiding slack when usually, I’m right on top of things when we run together. I take the job he’s giving me seriously, and he knows that.

When Flash asked me what was wrong, what was on my mind, I feigned ignorance, telling him that I was just tired. I know that our pledge of friendship says that we open up to each other, but this?

It feels too raw, too real. The last thing I want to do is bring Flash down into the trenches of this ugliness with me. This grief, this remembrance, this horrible, tragic sense of loss that I still feel a year later is going to eat me alive.

Especially tomorrow.

And I don’t want him anywhere near it.

I haven’t given Flash any sort of clue as to how screwed up I am, thanks to the loss I experienced exactly a year ago. We’ve grown closer, especially since Halloween, but I just don’t know how to drop that kind of bomb on someone. I’ve never had to tell anyone before. Anyone who’s close to mealready knows.

Telling Flash would be a step forward, a sort of acceptance that I’m not yet ready to take.

Telling him I wasn’t feeling well after our run, I set up the text I sent him earlier tonight. That I’m still not feeling well, and I need tomorrow off.

It should be like any other Monday.

But for me? It feels like I won’t make it through the night, much less the entire day, where I slept while the ones I loved the most in this world lost their lives.

My body flips from lying on one side to the other, as my mind fights to keep a firm grasp on reality, rather than melting back into the memories that threaten to pull me under.

Trenton. Easy smile. Driven personality. Die-hard fan of the Falcons. Lover. Fierce protector. Love of my life.

I twist and turn, my limbs creating a ball of unrest in my sheets.

Danté. Angel face set in blond hair and blue eyes. Laughter that bubbled up from his tiny, loving heart. Little hands that squeezed my face when he kissed me. The son I’ll never go a day without missing.

My soul thrashes, rebelling against the loss of two human beings I never even considered living without.

Finally giving up on sleep, I throw my feet over the side of the bed and stand on wobbly legs. My thoughts in a full-on frenzy, I drift from my bedroom, the one I shared with Trenton, down the upstairs hallway, until I reach the last door on the left.

Opening the door I keep shut all of the time, Danté’s room greets me in the dark, like a long-lost friend. I don’t bother to turn on the light, the moonlit shadows streaming in through the window more than enough to help me see a space I know by heart.

Walking straight over to the toddler-sized bed in a room where I’ve changed nothing, I grab hold of Ell, the stuffed elephant my son carried with him everywhere. When I found Bear sitting in a chair in my hospital room, I broke down and stroked the soft, brown fur coated with my tears of loss and grief.

I do the same now, curled into a ball in the middle of the light blue rug covering the floor.

I weep, because exactly a year ago, I lost my whole world.

I weep because there’s a part of me, deep down inside, that wants to break free of this prison where I’m still trapped. The one where I’m locked away, spending each and every day drowning in my losses, instead of living my life.

I weep because I don’t know how to open the lock that will truly set me free.

* * *

“Hello?”

When Flash’s voice rumbles across the line, it’s deeper than normal and husky with sleep.

As soon as I hear it, I pull in the first deep breath I’ve taken in an hour.

“F-Flash?”

There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is instantly more alert. “Bunny? That you? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The intensity in his voice that I’ve come to know so well, the concern bleeding through from the other end of the line, draws a fresh batch of sobs from me. “I…Flash. I can’t…”

Unable to get a sentence out, I trail away, helpless to communicate what I need or how I’m feeling.

Deep down in the recess of my mind, I realize that Flash could think I’m an insane person and hang up the phone.

Who do you think you are, calling this man at one-AM? He said you could be friends, but this is pushing it. Why didn’t you call Brantley?

I can’t even explain to myself why Brantley wasn’t my first call. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s finally someone else I trust enough to turn to when I’m falling apart. Honestly, Flash was the first person my fumbling fingers found when I picked up my phone. It wasn’t thought-out; it was instinctual.

“Are you at home?” There’s a note of urgency in Flash’s voice now, and I suck in a shaky breath, trying to get myself under control so I don’t worry him any more than I already have.

But the air doesn’t even reach my lungs, and oh God, I feel like I’m splitting apart.

“Y-yes.”

“Are you safe, Arden? Is anyone there with you?”

He thinks I’m in trouble. Shit, shit, shit.

The words burst from my chest. “I’m alone, Flash. I…I need you.”

His voice shifts, like he’s moving around on the other end. “You got me, sweetheart. I’m here. I want you to text me your address, all right? Just hold on, and I’ll be there soon.”

I do just that, holding onto his words, even after I’ve texted him the address, and sit, surrounded by memories and pain, clutching the phone to my chest like a lifeline.

From where I lay curled up, the front door seems so far away, so I’m glad I had the afterthought at the end of my text to tell Flash where to find the spare key I keep taped to the bottom of a rock on the porch.

His voice, coming from downstairs, breaks through the haze of my sadness.

“Bunny? Call out to me, sweetheart. Let Nitro and I come find you.”

My sobs have subsided, leaving me weak and limp and thankfully numb. I raise my voice without lifting my head. “I’m here…upstairs.”

It’s only moments later when Nitro’s wet nose nudges my side. Then Flash’s hands are on me, locating my position, before strong arms pull me against a warm chest. He settles against the wall, pulling me with him, and Nitro’s heavy weight leans against my hip as he curls onto the plush carpet beside us.

The rough pad of Flash’s thumb strokes my damp cheek. “Jesus, Bunny. You scared the shit out of me. I’m here. You can talk to me, or I can just hold you. But I’m not leaving you…not like this.”

Does he think I’ll argue? I want him here. Something about Flash’s presence tethers me to this time and place. I’m afraid that without him here with me, I’ll fade away into the memories that haunt me. I just lay there, my eyes open and staring at nothing. Time ticks by slowly, each passing minute blending into the one before it—until Flash’s warm chest, the sound of his heart beating steadily against my cheek, the strong, masculine scent of him soaking into my skin all become a part of me.

Finally, I take a breath; the first real breath I’ve taken in hours. And then I take another, gathering strength and courage from his presence alone. It wouldn’t be fair…asking him to help me, letting him come here in the middle of the night…without sharing my soul with him.

He’s earned at least that.

“I can talk. This…room? It’s a bedroom. It belonged to my son.”

The words…the ones I haven’t spoken to anyone outside of my closest family and friends since the day I woke up? They just tumble out of my mouth like raindrops from clouds. And I know, after tonight, everything between Flash and I will change.

There’s no turning back.