I start strumming a couple random chords, my cigarette perched between my lips. A piece of dark hair falls over my eye, but it’s okay. I don’t need to see to play, and I really need to play right now.

Outside, the storm rages on. The wind is whistling, and rain is slashing hard against the window. Lightning flashes, and the lights flicker ominously.

“So?” he says eventually, quietly. “What are you guys waiting for? What’s the deal?”

I sigh and smack the strings, cutting it off mid-note. Taking one last, long drag from my cigarette, I stab out the cherry in the bowl. Running my hand through my hair, I face Will and let the smoke curl away from my mouth.

“Let’s just say, it’s not me who needs convincing.”

“Mason?”

I nod. “He’s not ready. I don’t think Shawn is either, to be honest, not that he’ll come right out and say it.”

“What do you mean?”

I sigh. “Okay, so you know how they met in rehab?” At his nod, I say, “Shawn’s had it pretty rough. I mean, it’s kind of obvious. The guy’s a fucking robot. I don’t know the details, only that he was in foster care. Bounced around a lot. One of the homes messed him up real good, I guess. Maybe more than one. Like I said, I don’t know specifics. I don’t even know if Mason does, but if anyone does, it’d be him.”

Will nods and looks down at his folded hands. “I thought he was an asshole when I first met him.”

I bark out a laugh. “Welcome to the fucking club.”

He smiles faintly. “I feel kind of bad now, though.”

“Don’t. We all have our own shit to deal with. It doesn’t excuse being a raging dick. Present company included.”

His smile turns sad. “You’re not that bad.”

“Who said I was talking about me?”

He presses a hand to his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a fucking angel. Just ask my mom.”

I stare flatly at him as he smiles around the rim of the whiskey, blue eyes swimming with mirth.

“Anyway,” I go on. “So, Shawn’s an asshole. The guy’s got more issues than Mason and me combined. Long story short, he ended up running away from the last foster home he was in when he was sixteen. He got caught up in the wrong crowd, started using, you know how it goes.”

“Heroin?”

“Yeah, among other things, but heroin is and has always been his first and only love.”

“Is?”

“Once an addict, always an addict.”

He tips his head in acknowledgment. “Fair.”

“They’re basically each other’s sponsor. Support buddy. Whatever.”

Will makes a face. “Really? Is that allowed? It seems a little...”

“Dangerous?” I nod. “Could be.”