I inwardly cringed. I wasn't alone. I was with the man who'd haunted my dreams for the past three years. I'd let him fuck me on his bike. Correction, I had done the "fucking." Guilt washed through me, turning my stomach.

"Coffee," Bex declared from beside me, handing me a cup.

I took it gratefully. She gave me a knowing look. Like she knew exactly what I was doing.

"I'll be in my room, sleeping until a normal hour, now that we don't have to call in Liam Neeson to retrieve Lily from a hostage situation," she declared drily.

She moved in to kiss my cheek. "Here if you need me, Lils babe," she said quietly in my ear, her eyes darting to Aiden in disdain.

I gave her a smile. "Love you," I whispered, needing her to know how much her quiet support and even her snarky remarks helped.

"Ditto," she winked, scowled at Aiden then walked to her room.

"Want to tell me where you went?" he asked softly.

I paused. "Let's sit down," I stalled, pointing to our floral sofa. It had a giant hole in the arm, which was covered by a printed pashmina. Apart from that, it was actually awesome. Covered in sequined cushions and fluffy throws. The perfect space to break up with someone. Not.

Once we were situated, with Aiden holding my hand, I spoke, "I went for a drive, just needed some time to think," I started in a small voice. I wasn't lying, only omitting the truth. "On my drive I realized that I need to have some space right now. Need to get my life back together." The thought of doing that without my mom made me taste bile, but I focused on the task at hand. "I can't do that to you. Can't give you what you want the way I am now," I whispered.

Aiden's face was soft, he stroked my cheek. "It's not about you giving me anything. I'm here to give you whatever you need, Lily. I'm here for the long run. I care about you, a lot."

"You're such a nice guy," I whispered. "But I wasn't in the right frame of mind when this started. I needed someone for comfort. It isn't fair to you. We're better as friends," I informed him firmly.

Aiden sat back, his face blank. "You're not budging on this," he stated his eyes hard.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

He nodded. "Yeah," he muttered.

Silence descended. Unlike with Asher, it wasn't comfortable. I fiddled with my fingers, my anxiety rearing its head. I didn't do well in situations like this. Nervousness crawled all over me like hives.

"I guess I knew it," Aiden said finally. "Knew you didn't feel the same as I did for you. You're so reserved. I never know what you're thinking. It just makes you that much more intriguing. I wanted to be the man that opened you up, got inside that shell," he sighed, "but I'm not that man, am I?" It wasn't really a question, he was resigned to the fact.

I shook my head slowly.

He nodded again and leaned forward kissing my head softly. "This is not what I want, I'm just clarifying that now," he told me quietly. "You change your mind, I'm here. But if not, I'm still your friend, okay?"

Such a nice guy.

I nodded and smiled. "You'll find her. The one that's right for you. It's just not me," I told him firmly.

He gave me a sad smile. "We'll agree to disagree there."

He stood. I stood with him, awkwardly walking to the door.

"You'll call if there's anything you need?" he asked firmly.

"Yeah," I whispered, knowing I wouldn't, not for a while anyway.

What I needed was my mom back. He couldn't give me that. What I needed was solitude. That he could give me.

He gave me a sad look.

I sank against the back of the door when he was gone, letting out a breath of relief.

"Thank fuck for that, thought I'd have to flea bomb the place to get him out," Bex exclaimed.

I glanced over at her. She was leaning against her door jamb and eating straight from a tub of peanut butter.

My eyes widened at her. "You were eavesdropping?"

She rose her brows. "Um ... of course," she replied as if I was crazy for even asking her this.

I screwed my nose up at the container in her hands. "Please don't tell me that's your breakfast."

She shrugged. "Good protein," she mumbled.

I shook my head, making my way to the kitchen to make us breakfast. I wasn't hungry, I hadn't been for weeks, but it gave me something to do. Idle hands were the Devil's instruments. And with the Devil came the demons.

"You did the right thing," Bex declared, following me to plonk herself down on a barstool, peanut butter in tow.

I pulled eggs and milk out of the refrigerator, sitting them beside a loaf of bread.

She spied that and the pan I was getting out. "French toast? Fucking sicko," she exclaimed in an Aussie accent and put her peanut butter down.

I rolled my eyes. "I know I did the right thing. It didn't make hurting him any easier," I told her.

She rolled her makeup smudged eyes. "Ugh. Seriously, I love you more than life itself Lilmeister, but stop caring about other people, especially douchebrain. Focus on yourself, for once in your life. Let this shit process. Yell, scream, cry, eat two tubs of ice cream while watching The Biggest Loser. I'm down for it all. Or to completely leave you in solitude," she offered, knowing me too well.

I leaned against the counter, putting my head in my hands for a moment. "I'm scared," I whispered then looked up at her. "For three years it's been constant motion. Taking care of Mom, studying, working, rinse and repeat. I haven't stopped. Haven't contemplated any of it. I'm terrified if I do let myself realize that she's gone, I'll get lost. I'll disappear in this chasm left in my life and never come out," I told her brokenly. "Mom's dead. Gone. It doesn't feel real." I stared at the door. "I'm expecting her to walk in here, paintbrushes in hand, declaring she's going to paint our living room to brighten it up," I said, choking on my tears.

Bex's face was a mask of grief, a mirror of mine. She pushed up off her stool and rounded the counter to take me in her arms.

"Fuck, Lils, we'll get through this, promise. I won't let you lose yourself," she whispered into my hair.

In that moment, I clung to my best friend like she was my lifeline. Maybe she was. I tried not to think about the other raft in the sea of grief I was floating in. The one named Asher.

Asher: Thinking of you, flower.

A small smile tickled the edge of my mouth as I re-read the text I'd gotten shortly after lunch. I hadn't even been without him for twenty-four hours, and I yearned for his touch. It was as if the three years of distance had been three minutes. As if I hadn't just broken up with my "kind of" boyfriend that morning.

Me: It's been four hours. How can you be thinking of me already? I'm sure you've got much more important things to think about, like slinging back hooch and shooting guns.

I bit my lip, re-reading what I had typed. I erased it.

Me: I'm thinking about you, too.

I replied simply. He hadn't written anything back; he was giving me space like I'd asked. I was grateful for it.

"Lil, you deserve a drink. Hell, I think it's medically necessary," Bex informed me, holding out a bottle. "I know you're not a drinker, and that you haven't touched a drop in three years. Haven't had fun in three years. Not that I'm suggesting any of this is going to be fun, but alcohol makes you think it is, for a while anyway," she told me sagely.

It was late afternoon. We had done exactly nothing. Ate french toast. Sat on our sofa and watched crappy reality television. Joked. Talked about Mom. Told funny stories.

It was weird. Sitting on the sofa in my PJs, with nothing to do, nowhere to be. I'd temporarily dropped out of college to work enough to support Mom, and have enough time to take care of her. My job at the bar had given me a few paid days off. It might have been a dive, but my boss was pretty awesome, and she'd loved Mom.

So I had nothing. No hospital to visit. No research to do for last minute cures. No bills to pour over-apparently medical bills died with the patient-apart from the usual.

My mom always shined bright. Shined beautiful. When I was around her, I was bathed in that light too. I was intoxicated, like everyone, by her zest for life. It was contagious. She was brilliant. The ying to my yang. The only reason I felt okay about being me, about my shyness, was because I had her to balance me out. To tell me that who I was, was exactly who I was meant to be. Without her, I was in danger of drifting away from who I'm meant to be. Or losing it altogether. Who was I without my ying? This was all too hard. The bottle Becky presented me with, offered the easy solution-oblivion.

I jerked awake, wiping drool from the side of my mouth.

So attractive.

I blearily regarded where I was.

Sofa.

Why was I on the sofa? My eyes touched an empty bottle of Jgermeister. Oh yeah, that's why. Might explain the headache too. The headache was worsened by the knocking at the door. It wasn't loud, but it seemed to echo off my skull.

"Whoever that is, you shoot them. Shoot them right in their hand, so they can't inflict this horror on anyone else," Bex mumbled from her spot on the floor.

I squinted at her, feeling more than a little fuzzy, I vaguely wondered why she was on the floor when her room and her bed were meters away. After a second, I got up, deciding to save the person on the other side of the door from getting maimed by a sleep zombie Bex.

I flinched at the bright light that assaulted me when I opened the door, and it took a second for the people on the other side to come into focus. I blinked rapidly.

"I told you it was too early," Amy hissed knowingly at Gwen, who was gazing at me with a soft look on her pretty face.

She ignored Amy. "Lily, sweetheart. I'm sorry, we can come back." She motioned to turn around.

"Or," Amy cut in, "we can take you out for a nice greasy breakfast with a Bloody Mary on the side, it'll fix you right up."

"You had me at Bloody Mary," I heard Bex yell from somewhere behind me.

I flinched at the sound, too loud.

Amy grinned. "It's settled then." She pushed past my zombie form to make her way into my apartment.

My hungover brain realized I should have been embarrassed at these glamorous women seeing my far from glamorous home. Being in this neighborhood and looking at the crumbling paint covered by posters, the faded carpet disguised with colorful rugs, the ancient appliances. I'd been to their place many times. It looked like the pages of a magazine, mirrored the images in my head of what I imagined my life might be like one day. Seeing Amy standing in the middle of my living room clutching a bag that cost the same as three months' rent had me cringing. And realizing my life might never get better than this.

She didn't seem ruffled. "Point me in the direction of your room, Lily. I'll get you an outfit together. Gwen will make you coffee." She directed a pointed glance at Gwen, who was still standing in the doorway.

I stood silent, still bathing in the shame that had begun to wash over me. And trying not to vomit as my hangover intensified.

"That way," Bex pushed herself off the floor and answered Amy with her hand. "I'll shower first. Knock down the door if I'm not out in twenty, it means I've passed out," she instructed seriously.

I nodded woodenly, watching Amy disappear into my room.

"Coffee," Gwen declared with a soft smile.

She did as Amy did, strutting through the door in her designer duds, not blinking at the rundown apartment and the damaged vintage furniture.

"Diggin' the boho vibe." She winked at me. "I'll totally have to get you to take me vintage shopping."

I didn't reply and her cheerful face changed, and she stepped forward, grasping my forearms lightly.

"I'm not going to ask how you are because that's a stupid question," she murmured. "I am going to tell you you're not going to feel like this forever. It seems like it I know. But I promise it won't last that long. It gets better." Her eyes twinkled with unshed tears, and I knew she was thinking of the brother she lost a couple of years ago. Her voice was so convincing, I almost believed her-almost. Gwen had strength-family. Bex was all I had. I didn't have family. And I knew what little strength I had was keeping me upright. It wasn't going to chase away the big sad, or the demons. Wasn't going to wrench the weight off my chest.

Gwen continued, "I know you don't like to talk about yourself. You think that you need to handle all of your problems alone. You don't," she squeezed my arms, "you've got people around you. Whatever you need. If you want to talk or just go to a crappy romance movie, I'm here for you, girl," she said quietly.

I blinked away the tears at the support she was offering, but managed a small nod.

"Thanks, Gwen," I choked out, unable to say much more.

She gave me a small smile, not making me feel awkward at my inarticulate response.

"It's what friends are for, Lily, remember that." She released my arms. "Now, let's get you caffeinated, and then we can set to repairing that hangover," she said with a knowing grin before she moved toward the kitchen.

She skirted past a wayward wine bottle to reach the coffee pot. She was dressed all in white, her chocolate hair piled atop her head. Her body didn't betray the fact she'd had two children, she seemed to be some kind of freak of nature. You'd expect someone like that to be frightfully awful and stuck up. Gwen was neither.

I tried to let her words penetrate. To give me a sense of hope that she might be right. Maybe one day I'd find a way to believe those words. But right now, the darkness of grief had a firm clutch on me, so firm that I worried I'd never see the light again.

I glanced down at the name flashing on my ringing phone.

Asher.

My stomach did a somersault. I downed the remainder of wine in my glass and stood. Bex gave me a small knowing grin, but didn't say anything as I put the phone to my ear and walked toward my room.

"Hey," I greeted quietly, closing the door.

It was early evening, Bex and I had recovered from our hangovers largely thanks to Amy and Gwen taking us out for food. Since we were recovered, Bex declared the only logical thing to do was to go out. I was happy to. Alcohol promised numbness. Distraction. Anything that quelled pain that had stitched itself to my soul was welcome. We'd just started our "pre-drinking" and were getting ready to go somewhere. I didn't care where. Anywhere that hid me from the big sad that little bit longer.

"Flower," Asher's husky greeting sent tingles to my toes much more effectively than my wine had done.

"Hey," I repeated.

I heard a throaty chuckle at the end of the phone. "Hey," he murmured.

There was a pause, a long one. It would have been awkward with anyone else, silence was kind of the opposite goal of a phone conversation, but it somehow wasn't. I waited for the inevitable "how are you going?" that everyone asked the grieving relative. The question everyone knew the answer to, but the safe, expected social interaction.

"What's your favorite food?" Asher surprised me by asking.

I blinked. "What?"

"Your favorite food. See, I was sitting here thinking of you, and realizing I don't know much about you. Only how I feel about you. I want to know more. I want to know everything, flower," he explained roughly.

My stomach dropped again as I digested his words. He didn't say anything else as I was silent a moment. A long moment. He wanted to know me? Everything about me? I wanted to ask him why, why he seemed so interested in me when I was the most uninteresting person on the planet. I didn't.

"Steak," I said finally. Nothing else, no beautiful articulate reasoning that mirrored his own. I didn't do well with articulate in most situations.