He studies me carefully, almost warily. A part of me suddenly wants to run, for reasons I don’t want any part of, but I’m helpless to escape. His ocean blues hold me hostage.

“It helps, I think,” he says slowly, unsure, “saying it out loud. Telling someone. Back in Philly...” He shakes his head and looks away. “Well, everyone who mattered already knew what happened, you know? It changed things. How they saw me. How I saw myself.” He runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like I was constantly being torn between who I was before—who they knew and still expected me to be—and this...stranger.”

I gulp.

He hangs his head, brow wrinkled in thought. “I was either not upset enough, or taking too long to move on. It was as if I had only two choices: lose my shit completely, or fucking get it together and keep it that way. Go back to who I was before...”

He looks up at me through his thick, dark lashes. “But I can’t. It’s like...like I have no idea how to feel, or where to go from here, and I don’t know what to do with any of it,” he says in a forceful rush, voice thick with emotion. His hands spread helplessly as he shrugs before falling once more to his sides.

Licking my lower lip, I look over his shoulder. “You wait for the sun to come up.”

“What?”

Avoiding his gaze, I hop down from the barrier. Gravel kicks up from under my shoes, and I dust off my shorts before turning to face Will.

I take in those deep blue eyes as familiar as they are strange to me, and I tell him, “The sun will always rise again.” I shrug. “You just need to make it through the night. Take it day by day—moment by moment if you need to—until you reach the other side. Nothing lasts forever.”

His brows pull in, and he stares into me with so much intensity, it’s a wonder I’ve yet to shatter from the force of it. He finally asks, “Is that why you come up here?”

A memory pushes its way to the surface, dark and fuzzy around the edges.

It was night. I was alone. I was drunk, and I had my dad’s gun...

I’ve got Tom Petty in my head, singing about stupid nonsense—

I quickly turn away and mentally shove down that night, deep into the bowels of my darkest, most shameful memories.

Will can’t know about that. Especially not now. Not after what he just told me.

Jesus Christ, what was I thinking bringing him here of all places?

I glance down at my knuckles, tracing the tattoo on my right ring finger with a thumb.

No. I nod to myself. He can never know.