I drop myself into the corner of her room and begin doing push-ups. I need to calm down. I have to relax. I repeat this to myself as I pump out fifty reps.

Finally, I settle some.

I walk back to the bathroom door, knocking. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lauren. I won’t. Come out.” I keep my voice steady, clenching and then unclenching my fists. My emotions are haywire.

“You’re not stable,” she answers through the door, her voice stronger and more confident than before. “When I’m with you, I don’t know which version of you I’m going to get. Yes, I have feelings for you. I-I …” Her voice trails off on a stammer.

I want to hear the words I love you. I realize it’s too soon. People don’t normally fall in love so fast. But we did, and I know it as the truth. I see it in her eyes. In the way she moves. Lauren loves me, and I love her. Still, I hold my breath, waiting for them. What if she needs more time for the truth to reach her? I know what I know. Can she see that I would do anything for her? She must know at least that.

“We’re good together,” she continues. “But you aren’t dealing with your issues, and it’s too much for me to handle. I’m getting scared.” She gasps. “I see these women come in and out of the Center, and what’s the difference between them and me? They date men who claim love, but they are abusive.”

My eyes widen. Abuse? What the fuck is she talking about?

“I tried to ignore the parallels,” she continues, “but they’re there.”

I hear her crying. I’m helpless. I need to comfort her, but she won’t open the door.

Wait. What did she say?

“Abusive?” I huff out loud. “Parallels?”

It’s as if she’s speaking Chinese right now. I close my eyes and lean my head on the door. What she’s saying is causing me physical pain. My chest feels splintered, cracked.

“Yes. You get up in my face if I cross an imaginary line. You’re taking drugs, Slade. I-I know you are,” she stutters.

Drugs? She … knows. Shame and fury enter the spaces in my chest. I’m eroding.

“There’s a crack in the rock. A heavy rain comes down and seeps into that crack along with sediment and natural debris, which then carve away at the inside edges.” Eve’s voice echoes.

She said this, right? Lake Powell? Yes. No. My mind can’t be trusted.

I look down. I’m sweating. My T-shirt is soaked.

“I found a baggie of pills in your nightstand,” Lauren says. “You drink constantly. Your smoking is nonstop. You wake up in the night, talking to yourself. You’re sleeping on the floor, next to the bed. You need help, Slade. And last night …” She pauses, and then the door swings open. Her face is soaked with tears.

I suck in a hard breath. My sweet girl is in pain.