But her feet wouldn’t carry her past the living room. Instead, she curled up on the couch, put her hands beneath her scarred cheek and stared at the blank TV screen, unable to hold back the tears that dripped onto her fingers.

Seth couldn’t sleep. He rambled around Maxi’s house the way he’d rambled around his own in San Francisco after Shiloh had died and was still awake when the sun peeked over the horizon. He thought of what he’d be doing right now if Tia was around and knew he’d be in bed with her. They’d get up and have coffee together and talk about anything and everything while she cooked something for breakfast, like biscuits and gravy. Although she made a mean avocado toast, she said her cooking skills didn’t extend to the trendy stuff found in most LA restaurants these days. She’d been taught to cook with meat and potatoes, but he was perfectly fine with that. He liked comfort food.

After breakfast, they’d go for a run or a swim and maybe they’d wind up making love in the shower.

He wandered outside to the pool, feeling disconnected from everything and everyone, not to mention rumbled, exhausted and so angry with himself that he felt he deserved to be this miserable. He wished he could shut off his brain and go to sleep or bury himself in work to escape what he was feeling; he’d been so careful not to allow himself to feel anything the past three years.

But he couldn’t even make himself try. All he could think about was the way Tia had looked when he’d said she was just a friend. The color had drained from her face, except for where her cheek had been cut and stitched back together, and the scars had stood out more than he’d seen in a long while. He’d felt oddly compelled to trace the crooked lines with his finger, as if that could somehow make them disappear—like he could when working with paint. But, of course, that was impossible. Just seeing her look so stricken had made him hate himself.

He pulled out his phone. Just tell me you’re okay. That’s all I need to know, and I’ll leave you alone. He sent her that text message, but he knew she wouldn’t respond. She hadn’t answered any of his other messages, and he couldn’t blame her.

“Seth?”

It was his mother, but he didn’t turn to face her. “What?” he said.