He shook his head. “I’ve told you … I’m not going anywhere. Maybe it’s not perfect, but I’ll love walking through hell with you just the same. I’m just not to going to watch you get worse. It’s time we start going in the other direction.”

“I think we both know we’re past a support group and twelve steps.”

He wiped my forehead with the rag. “Maybe. Whatever it is, I’m with you.”

My bottom lip quivered, nodding.

I picked at my nails, feeling strange to have been sweating from the Virgin Islands humidity in the morning and have Tyler’s truck heater blowing in my face to battle the chill of Colorado air twelve hours later. The windshield wipers were creaking across the glass, wiping away the snowflakes falling quietly from the night sky.

“I’m not trying to be difficult. I think I just need some time to get my shit together.”

He sighed, frustrated. “And why can’t we do that together?”

“Because everything I’ve tried up to this weekend hasn’t worked. It’s been a year. I think it’s time for something new.”

“Or someone new?” he asked.

I blinked, offended. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I just want to help you with your luggage. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“When you get upstairs, I’ll want you to stay.”

“Is that so bad?” When I didn’t answer, he gripped his steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. “You want to drink, and you don’t want me to see you.”

“Something like that.”

“So is this going to be the new thing you’re trying? Choosing to get drunk over being with me?”

“No.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me.”

“You’re not coming inside,” I snapped.

“Why?”

“You know why!”

He slammed his palm down on the dash. “Goddamn it, Ellie! I’m fucking exhausted!”

“Then go home!”

“I don’t wanna go home! I want to be with you!”

“Too fucking bad!”

He clenched his teeth, staring straight ahead. The headlights of the truck highlighted the MountainEar building and the snowflakes, adding to the already white blanket on the ground.

He slammed his gearshift into reverse. “I can’t do this.”

I grabbed my backpack and put my hand on the door handle. “It’s about time you admitted it.”

“You were just waiting for that, weren’t you? I give up, so it’s not your fault. Or maybe you can go upstairs and pretend you’re drinking because you feel sorry for yourself. Fucking brilliant.”

I opened the door, and then opened the back door, grabbing my rolling suitcase and yanking it to the ground. I slammed the back door, and then the passenger’s.