But I’d had no idea about his mother. My heart ached when I remembered the bleak look in his eyes when he’d told me about her.

I rubbed my thumb against Alex’s jeans as we flew down the freeway, unable to open my mouth and apologize to him.

I turned a little and leaned against the seat sideways, closing my eyes as Alex drove. It had taken me a long time to become comfortable in a car again. It was only when it rained that I felt the old panic rise up inside me.

As we pulled into the motel, remorse made my throat tight. I shouldn’t have yelled at Alex about where we were staying, especially since I didn’t actually care where we slept.

“I’ll grab a key,” Alex said, pulling under the little archway near the office. “I’ll be right back.”

I took a deep breath once he was gone. I hurt. Every place inside of me hurt. My weariness was bone deep and exhausting.

Our room turned out to be a lot nicer than the one we’d stayed in the night before, and I glanced around in relief as Alex carried our bags over to the dresser and set them on top. There were a king-sized bed, a table with a couple of chairs, and a flat-screen TV that was bolted to the wall.

“You can take the bathroom first,” Alex said quietly, gesturing toward it.

We were both so raw from our conversation earlier that I didn’t have the courage to bring it up again. Instead, I hurried to get my toiletries and closed myself in the small room. The tears didn’t hit until I was hidden away in the shower.

*  *  *

“I don’t know what to do,” Alex said quietly after we’d turned off the lights and crawled into the huge bed. The space between us was massive, but I didn’t know how to bridge the gap. “I want to help you, but I have no idea what to do.”

“You are helping,” I said, my words slightly muffled by my pillow.

He had no idea how much he was helping by just being there. Solid and strong. He also had no idea how much his presence hurt. I didn’t know why both things were true, but they were.

I wanted to be close to him constantly, but I could barely stand to touch him most of the time. I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t want to talk. I knew it was unfair to him, but I couldn’t seem to claw my way out of this whirlpool of conflicting emotions. I needed him with me to feel safe, but I was afraid if I let him get too close, I’d lose what little composure I’d managed to hold on to.