I should have known that, sooner or later, he would reveal himself to be exactly what he was, what we all are, the most selfish of creatures. I’d never met a person who wasn’t selfish. I shouldn’t have ignored that little voice inside that told me we were headed for nowhere fast and we were going to run out of gas anyway. The problem was he made me feel comforted and understood, less alone in the world—the highs of being with him were so consuming that the voice of reason in my head was drowned out. It was fucked up the way he cracked me open, turned me into a freaking maple tree, my deepest private thoughts pouring out of me and into him. He soaked them up, but kept the tap closed when it came to himself. And he turned out to be just another liar in my life.

Even so, it was a hard pill to swallow. My body clung to the memory of his touch, the hot flash of his warm lips brushing my skin, his mouth trailing down the nape of my neck. I lifted my hand to touch there. Even my own touch reminded me of him. When he touched me, I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

Time was going impossibly slowly; it was barely eleven in the morning on Day 1 post-Kael. I couldn’t get him out of my mind: he made his home there with a constant presence—and worse than that, there were traces of him were everywhere in my house. As I dug through my drawers for something light and easy to wear, I saw the satin pajamas. And his gray PT shirt was folded neatly next to them. Even my fingers ached for him. Fuck him, honestly.

Maybe if I cleaned myself up, had a shower, and brushed my teeth, I might feel a little less zombie-like. At minimum, the tasks would distract me. I walked to the kitchen to throw my dirty laundry into the washer, then went into the bathroom, where I grabbed Kael’s stupid gross toothpaste and tossed it into the trash can. When I missed, it hit an already loose wall tile that cracked into pieces, hitting the floor. Fuck this house, and how it knows just how badly I need him to fix my life.