I walked toward the street, passing Sterling and his new friend and turning right toward downtown. I stopped on the corner, looking down when a police cruiser rolled by. The light changed, and I hurried across the street to the only twenty-four-hour convenience store in town.

“Bathroom?” I asked.

The clerk pointed to the back, and I ran.

“Hey. Hey! No puking in there!”

I burst through the door and leaned back against it, sliding down to the floor. Pieces of toilet paper and paper towels were lying all around me, and I could feel the ass of my jeans getting wet from one of the many small puddles on the floor. I reached back for my phone, my thumb hovering over the display.

Before I could change my mind, I pressed the last name I ever thought I’d dial—a number Finley had programmed into my phone three months before.

It rang twice before she picked up. “Ellison? My God, it’s so good to hear from you.”

“Sally,” I began. “I’m in the bathroom of a convenience store. I think it’s the only open one in town.”

“Where?”

“Estes Park. I’m going to need a car to the nearest rehabilitation center. I’ve tried to stop drinking … I’ve…” I took a deep breath. “I can’t do it on my own. I’m drunk right now.”

“Someone will be there in fifteen minutes. Sit tight, Ellison. We’re going to get you well.”

I set the alarm on my phone and waited on the dirty floor. Before the chime went off, the clerk knocked on the door.

“Hey, lady? You all right in there?”

“I’m okay,” I said, sniffing. I crawled over to the far wall and pulled some toilet paper off the roll, wiping my eyes between sobs.

“There’s a guy out here. Says he’s picking you up.”

I scrambled to my feet, stunned by my reflection in the mirror. Twin thick black streaks of mascara stained my cheeks from my eyes to my jaw line. My hair was in rats, my eyes dull and glassed over. I yanked open the door to see Tyler standing next the clerk, looking very large next to the short, scrawny boy.

He sighed, relieved. “Ellison … I’ve been looking everywhere.”

I wiped my hands on my jeans and tried to walk out without stumbling. Tyler followed me outside, ready to catch me if I fell. He draped his army jacket over my shoulders and fidgeted.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“I know.”

“No,” he said, reaching for me. “No, you don’t know. You don’t have a fucking clue how much I love you. I’m just … I’m out of ideas. Things were so good before my birthday. I just want to get back there somehow.”