“Well, that was to be expected with the anniversary.” She writes something on a legal pad. “How’s Kane?”

“He’s fine. He’s always been fine. That’s Kane.”

“You sound bitter.”

“I am. I’m infuriated, actually. I wish I could turn off my emotions that easily. Tune out the way he does. Of course, he wasn’t as close to Declan as I was.”

“You are very close to Kane, though.”

“Not as close as I was to Declan.”

“You ever think Kane was jealous of that? Of you and Declan?”

“What, you mean…? No, Kane has no interest in me in that way. He has a girlfriend. Lots of girlfriends.”

She nods, writes something else. Every time she makes a note, I can’t help but think I said something wrong. “Are you jealous of that? Because Kane has moved on after your relationship and wasn’t there to pick up the pieces after Declan died?”

“What relationship?” I mumble. “He convinced me to have sex with him once, when I was young and stupid. That’s all.”

“Did you need that much convincing?”

“What?”

“What I mean is, were you hoping then that it would be more?”

“No. Of course not.”

More scribbling. I don’t think she believes me. “That was your first sexual experience, yes?”

I nod. “My only. Declan and I never… I mean…it never happened.”

“Tell me about last week.”

I cross my arms defensively. “Yeah, the anniversary was hard. Then Declan’s mom gave me a box of his things. She thought I wanted them.”

“And you didn’t?”

I unscrew a Poland Spring bottle and take a sip of water. “No. I put it under my bed.” I swallow. “And then she gave me this picture. It started me thinking. I’ve been going over his death in my mind again and again. For so long, I felt like I was the only one who knew the real Declan. Except he kept secrets from me. Maybe that’s the reason I haven’t been able to move on—because he’s been begging me to solve the mystery of his death from his grave.”

She straightens. “Declan killed himself, Hailey.”

I nod. Whoops. That was a little too Masterpiece Mystery for therapy hour. Best not to test my out-there theories with a lady who has the authority to commit people to the nearest mental ward. “Yes. I mean, obviously. But I still don’t know why.”

She presses her lips together. “You don’t?”

I shake my head. “Everything’s so twisted in my head. I can’t remember a lot. Details come to me randomly. As if someone ripped up my past and scattered the pieces in the air.”