The sun had barely turned the sky pink over the ocean when I woke the next morning. That same sense of dread hit me that I had to get up, had to move through my day, had to pretend. The heaviness of it all was unbearable.

I rolled over on my queen-size mattress and stared at the dark screen of my sleeping laptop. One click, that’s all it would take. One click and I’d see him again, and for those seconds, everything would be all right. My heart lurched, longing for that ten-minute eternity where he was still alive. But I wouldn’t stay for only ten minutes.

All it would take was that first click—the sound of his voice—and I wouldn’t leave this bed all day. Some days I won. Some days I lost. Today was a coin toss, and I needed to call it in the air.

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.