You’re going to be happy again. Sam’s words from yesterday rang in my ears.

But there wasn’t any happiness for me outside the video I’d seen thousands of times. I rubbed my chest, like that would somehow take away the pain, but it never left.

Why wasn’t I okay when everyone else was?

How long could I possibly live like this, fighting with myself over Will’s memory before I even got out of bed?

I know we can lessen some of the pain you’re in.

But Dr. Circe couldn’t. Or could she?

But what would happen if I tried her way and failed? Nothing could possibly feel worse than you do now. And then there was the unthinkable: What would happen if I tried her way and it…worked?

Was there honestly a chance? Probably not. I tried to squash the tiny flame of hope that had flared to life in my chest, but it kept whispering maybe.

I ran my finger along the top of my laptop. Will would have called me all sorts of names for not having the courage to try. He would want me to try. He would have wanted me to watch that video once, not use it as a lullaby for twenty-two months. He would have wanted me to get out of bed and try, even if I failed.

Maybe I couldn’t be as happy as Jackson and Finley, spinning around in the ocean, but maybe…just maybe I could hurt a little less.

I slammed my laptop closed. My feet hit the floor, and five minutes later, I turned the key in the ignition of my Mini Cooper—still dressed in my pajamas. By six twenty-five, I was parked outside Dr. Circe’s office.

She arrived at seven fifteen, her eyes flying wide when she found me sitting on the wooden steps that led to her office.

“I don’t want to feel like this for the rest of my life,” I admitted before she could ask me what the hell I was doing there.

“You don’t have to,” she said softly, moving her bag to her other shoulder and sitting next to me on the step.

“You really, honestly think you can help me?”

She reached over and took my hand. “I do. Now do you think you can find someone to be your support person? This really works better with one.”

I nodded, a slight smile curving my lips. “Yeah. I just need to buy a few cases of peppermint mocha coffee creamer as bribery before I ask her.”

Chapter Four

Jackson

“Hey, Jax, Connor is looking for the volleyball,” Cassidy told me, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. “Oh, hi, Brie.”

Brie gave her a half wave from where she stood, leaned back against my kitchen counter. So much like Claire. And yet the two couldn’t have been more different. They’d been Irish twins—Claire older by eleven months—but Brie had always acted like the older sister.

“It’s in the garage, second shelf, right-hand side. And tell your husband the NA beer is in this one; I know he’s on call tonight,” I told Cassidy before pouring the bag of ice into the cooler. The heat wave had weekend temps pushing eighty, which meant it was time for the first Sunday barbecue of the season.