Mondays sucked royally.

This Monday sucked more than most.

Kaleb still wasn’t talking to me, which had made our usual Monday morning breakfast a frigid affair. Piety had given up trying to get Kaleb and me to work things out and had spent the time talking to Jeremiah, most of which revolved around how stupid both Kaleb and I were being.

There wasn’t anything to work out as far as I was concerned. I’d had a friend who’d needed help. I’d taken Daytin under my wing, been like a big sister to her. So in my mind, I’d done the same thing for her that Kaleb had done for me.

If he couldn’t understand that, then we didn’t have much of anything to talk about.

I knew my brother and I knew how stubborn he could be. And he knew how stubborn I could be. So when I’d left the restaurant after kissing Jeremiah good-bye, I already had it set in my mind that this was going to last until one of us wore down the other.

The phones at the front desk were ringing off the hook from moment one, which did nothing to help the stress headache splitting my skull. Normally, I preferred it when things were busy at the clinic, but after two and a half hours, I was at the point where I’d almost kill for some downtime.

As I lowered the phone into the cradle, I whispered, “Be quiet a moment, would you?”

Next to me, a fellow receptionist laughed. “I hear you. You can tell it was a full moon last night, can’t you?”

“Yes.” I rubbed my temples. I still had two more hours of my shift, plus a course list to go over to decide what classes I’d take in the fall, and I didn’t know how I was going to get through it without committing a felony of some kind. “You know, when Piety first helped me get a job here, I didn’t buy into that hoopla about full moons and how bad things happened in threes.”

“And now?” Renata, the other receptionist, flashed a wide grin at me.

“Now I’m wondering if there’s a way to schedule classes that fall on the full moon.” I wasn’t entirely joking either.

She giggled, but cut the sound off as the phone began to ring again. “My turn,” she said gamely.

As she took the call, I straightened the notes on the intake paperwork I’d completed for the next client who would be arriving that afternoon. We called them clients rather than patients. It was supposed to be empowering or something like that. It hadn’t made a difference to me, but if it did to someone else, who was I to quibble over wording.

Since I’d finished the program months ago, I’d developed a new appreciation for everything that went on behind the scenes, for everything that I’d cursed and hated as I’d worked my way through withdrawal.

Now I worked here.

The job had been Piety’s idea. When she’d heard I planned to go into counseling, she’d suggested it. Said that it would give me an idea of whether or not it was what I really wanted to do, even if I was just doing paperwork.

Of course, it was what I wanted to do. What better way for me to help people, to give back, than to start with the place that had helped me.

As always, when I thought about the classes I was taking, the degree I was pursuing, a dream fluttered at the back of my mind, nearly forgotten. I pushed it back, same as always, because it was dead, even if not forgotten. Nobody in their right mind would want a recovered junkie and former hooker teaching their kids art, would they?

That had been the dream, though.

I loved art and I’d loved kids. I’d wanted to teach kids, work with them and help them find a love for art, too. But I’d lost the right to do any of that when I’d fucked up my life. I’d made my choices, and now I had to live with them.

“You’re looking down today.”

I looked up to see Piety standing over me. It was still weird, having someone other than Kaleb who genuinely cared about me. Someone I knew who was asking about how I was not out of being merely polite, but rather because she loved me.

“Hi,” I said, forcing my face to smooth out. Hiding emotion came second nature to me, although it was harder around her, especially when a part of me wanted so badly to confide in her, to have someone else who could listen while I talked things out.

“Still down about you and Kaleb?”

“Yes…well, no. Sort of.” Shrugging, I picked up the pages in front of me and began to organize them all over again even though they were fine as they were. “I’m not happy he’s so upset with me, of course, but I know I did the right thing.”

“Yes. You did. He’ll figure that out sooner or later.”

She offered an understanding smile to go along with her calm, certain tone. “He still feels guilty he wasn’t able to protect you, Camry. It comes out in odd ways, but that’s all this is.”

“His guilt won’t get any better if I leave some kid to struggle like I did,” I said.

“True enough, and that’s a fact I’ve been reminding him of repeatedly.” She winked at me and squeezed my shoulder. “He’ll come around. He’s just stubborn. But you probably know that better than I do.”

Because I loved and adored by my sister by marriage—and was slightly intimidated by her as well – I didn’t argue when she told me that things would get better, that Kaleb was simply reacting badly because things had ended up so screwed up between us and he was dealing with guilt, etc, etc, etc.

I could have argued.

Nothing she’d said wasn’t something I hadn’t considered before. He was a decent guy, and I’d ended up in a lot of trouble, trouble that could have gotten a lot worse.

But none of it was his fault.

Did he feel like he could have done more?

Probably.

But that was something he’d have to come to deal with because he wasn’t, had never been, the troubled kid who still lived inside me. He’d always been…stronger. Calmer. More focused. He’d always been so sure of himself. And patient. When I’d been so full of anger after our parents’ death, lashing out, acting out, he’d loved me, taken care of me. It wasn’t his fault that Stefano had preyed on me.

It wasn’t any one reason. It was a whole shitload of nature and nurture, of bad decisions of all sizes, and personality quirks partially shaped by shitty circumstances. All of those things had made me perfect for Stefano to groom me.

I was never going to be anybody else’s victim again.

And what I wanted now, more than anything, was to give those tools to somebody else, to help some other girl get out of the darkness, maybe before she fell as far as I had.

I hadn’t just brought Daytin here because I wanted to help her, though that was true. I’d brought her here as my own form of penance.

I had to help her. Some part of me almost felt that if I helped her, it would undo some of the damage I’d done to myself. Not physically—that had long since healed – but I wanted to undo some of the damage I’d done to myself emotionally, mentally. I wanted to prove…something.

Maybe I wanted to prove it to Kaleb just as much as myself. Maybe I wanted him to see that I could do something that mattered.

That was entirely selfish, I knew. And none of the good negated my selfish reasons.

“I need to go to the Ladies.”

Renata smiled at me and made a waving gesture. I went straight there, but when I came out, I didn’t turn right, which would take me back to my desk. Instead, I went left, down the hall. Behind each door, I heard people. Some were just people talking. I heard one person yelling.

That didn’t happen a lot, but it seemed every so often, someone would start up, yelling, screaming, pitching a bloody fit about how he or she didn’t belong here and didn’t need to be here. During my stay, there had been a few times that had been me.

Behind Daytin’s door, all was quiet.

I knocked and waited.

After the first twenty-four hours, the clients were allowed more privacy. The first day, everybody roomed with a navigator—it sounded so much better than babysitter. The navigators were clients who were on their final weeks and ready to graduate from the program. They’d walk the newbies through the schedule and help them adjust…make sure nobody tried to get a knife and slit their wrists.

I’d asked my navigator how often something like that had happened. She hadn’t answered, but Piety had told me they had a clean record.

I wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

Some clients went on to stay with their navigator or select another roommate, but Daytin had opted to stay in her room alone. It was allowed, but discouraged, and I understood why. Going through withdrawal had been awful, and sometimes the only thing that had gotten me through was having someone who’d gone through it themselves and come out the other side.

Daytin had just wanted to be left alone.

A few more seconds passed, and I knocked again.

Finally, after the third knock, Daytin opened the door. “What?” She glared at me, her lids swollen, her eyes red.

“I…” Shit. She was still sore at me. Of course, she was.

Blowing out a breath, I fought the urge to fidget, a habit I had to break if I was going to be a counselor. Who wanted to see a professional who acted like a nervous wreck?

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just brilliant.” She gave me a bright, false smile and fluttered her lashes. “They gave me some fake shit that’s supposed to help with withdrawal. I left one group session thirty minutes ago, and now I’m supposed to be going to a solo session, but I don’t fucking feel like it.”

The anger in her voice stung, but it wasn’t surprising. I’d been where she was. I knew how she felt.

“We’re just trying to help,” I said gently.

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

My mouth dropped open. I snapped it shut almost immediately so I wouldn’t snap back that she had, in fact, asked for my help, but I couldn’t quite wipe the surprise away.

“Daytin, you need lower your voice,” I said, blood rushing to my cheeks as somebody emerged from the room next to us. “This isn’t helping anything.”

“It’s making me feel better.” Arms crossed over her chest, she glared at me. “I want out of here, Camry. Get me out of here.”

If she really wanted to leave, she could, but I didn’t want to tell her that. She hadn’t been compelled by the court, and she wasn’t a minor, so legally, she could walk at any time. But…no. I wasn’t going to tell her that.

Guilt churned inside me as I said, “You need to be here, Daytin.”

“Why?” Chin jutted up, she continued to glare at me. “I just wanted some money, a place to crash. Maybe get out of Vegas for a while. I wasn’t wanting you to drag me to some drug rehab facility. I’m not a fucking junkie, Camry. I just like to have a little something to help me relax.” She rolled her eyes and looked away, but the jittery movements of her hands belied her casually spoken words. “You ought to know. Or has it been so long since you’ve turned tricks you forgot what it’s like to need to shut your brain down a while?”

She didn’t bother keeping her voice down at all, and now the heat scalding my cheeks was almost painful. A lot of the people here knew I’d been in the program, but it was one thing to think of me as some kid who’d just gotten in too deep with the wrong people. It was something else to know what I’d become to get those drugs. If anyone here ever found out what I’d done to Piety...

“That’s enough,” I said, managing to keep my voice level despite my gut-wrenching embarrassment. “Since you seem to want to fight, let’s do it privately.”

“Why—”

But I didn’t give her a chance to keep going. I pushed forward, and as I walked, I hooked my arm through hers, taking her with me into her room. As soon as we were inside, I let go and twisted around, shutting the door before she could protest.

“If you want to fight, we’ll do it in here,” I said and this time, my voice hitched a little bit. “I work here, Daytin. I’m trying to be better, do better. And you’re not going to ruin that for me just because you’re pissed off and going through withdrawal.”

“I’m pissed off because I don’t need to be here!”

“How bad are the shakes?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I held her eyes for a moment, then looked at her hands. They were trembling. Immediately, she shoved them into the deep pocket of her hoodie, but even then, a fine tremor remained. “Headaches? Chills? Have you been seeing things? I did.”

Her mouth wobbled, then firmed. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t want…” Her voice hitched, cracked. “I want out of here. I want to leave.”

“And do what?” I spread out my hands. “I ended up almost dead living the life we were living. You weren’t far off when you called me. What are you going to do, Daytin?”

Slim shoulders slumped and she walked off, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

After almost a minute of silence, she spoke again. “I don’t know. I just don’t.”

“Stay here. We’ll help. You’ll be able to finish school, get a job…”

“Yeah. A fairy tale, just like yours.”

This time, under the bitterness, I heard something else. Something that gave me hope.

Longing.