I want there to be more. Maybe instead of relying on my comforts like baking and crafting, I'll start expanding my horizons, try new things, see what it's like to be an adult.

A change needs to happen, because right now, the person I see in my reflection is still stuck in the past, and I want her to move into the future. I'm doing this for me. I'm changing for me. I'm peeling my layers for me.

No one else. It doesn't matter how much they don't want to hang out with me. This is for me and only me.

JACE.

"The chatter in the room is wonderful to hear. I really hope you've been able to take the last two weeks and develop your support group. In the coming challenges, it will be important to have your group understand you, guide you, and help you through the fears and tests you'll face."

Chatter? More like crickets in our circle. Even Daisy is quiet, which is surprising. I expected the closed-off, arms-crossed, slouching-in-his-chair Carter to be in attendance tonight-he always is-but even Hollyn is a little off. Does she feel weird after our conversation at the Cat Company? I hope I didn't say anything to offend her.

"Over the past few weeks, we've talked about grieving, letting go, and building support," Marleen continues. "Not everyone will be at the same pace. Some of you may still be grieving." Uh yeah, I'll probably be grieving for the rest of my life. "Some of you might still be holding on to the past, not quite letting go just yet. And some of you might be tackling this program head-on. Being forced to move on to the next stage when you're not ready isn't helpful. But here you can learn a few strategies, new skills. You move at your own pace, but take in the challenges when you can. Learn from your peers and as always, spend each day proving your existence. As you would have seen in your information pack, there are names of psychologists who specialize in trauma counseling especially. Please ask if you would like to pursue more one-on-one guidance. The one thing I don't want to see, is you staying stagnant or regressing to the person you were before you came to the program."

Staying stagnant, hell, I've felt stagnant since Hope was born. I feel like I'm still in that hospital room, handing her over to June and Alex, the feeling of total heartbreak coating me, constantly clogging my soul with pain. It burns, sears me, and mostly turns me from hot to cold in seconds. It's like the movie, Groundhog Day, living in a vicious cycle of the same day over and over again, but instead of having to report the weather and trying to score with women like Bill Murray's character, I'm in a constant state of nausea and utter depression.

"For the rest of the evening, I would like you to talk to your group about the progress you've made, your feelings, what you perceive your holdbacks might be, and what you want to start accomplishing. As always, when you're finished, write your letters, refer to your book for the next challenge, and feel free to ask me any questions you might have." She claps her hands and says, "Have at it."

She's a little too enthusiastic for me. Marleen, hint, hint. Some people in this program can't take the go-get-'em attitude all the time.

Circling our chairs together, we face one another and wait for Daisy to speak up like usual but she doesn't. Her gaze is cast down and she has an obvious slump in her shoulders. Not liking what I'm seeing, I ask, "Daisy, how are you doing? You seem quiet tonight."

Surprised I singled her out, she lifts her head and looks around in the circle, her eyes shifting longer over Carter who is fiddling with a pen, expertly flipping it through his fingers.

Before answering, she fidgets in her seat. "I feel a little disheartened."

"Why are you disheartened?" Hollyn asks, true concern in her voice.

"I guess I feel like I'm trying, but I'm not really doing a good job at it. I'm quite clueless as to what I'm trying to accomplish and I'm afraid the person I want to strive to be will never show up. It just seems like I take one step forward only to take a few steps back."

"What happened in the past few days that has made you feel like that?" I ask.

Glancing again at Carter, Daisy takes her time to respond. Something has to be going on there, but with Daisy's vague answers and the inability to read Carter, I probably won't be able to figure it out.

"Nothing per se, but I was looking at myself in the mirror the other day and I didn't necessary like the person in the reflection."

"I can't speak for Jace and Carter, but I know the feeling, Daisy. It's been a while since I've liked the person in the mirror. The person I see is broken, tired, sad. She's given up." After speaking with Hollyn, and really looking into her eyes the other day, I see the woman she's talking about. It's evident in the half smile she gives, the sorrow in her voice, and the constantly sagging posture in her shoulders.

"Given up relates to me as well," I add, wanting Hollyn to feel like she's not alone. "I don't feel the motivation I used to. I'm going through the motions because I have to, I'm obligated to, but I don't feel the same thrill when I'm in the batting cage, or training. It's just like my body is in a constant state of numb."

"Numb. It's the perfect way to describe it," Hollyn agrees with me. "Like nothing can penetrate the veil eclipsing you."

"Does it feel like you're almost choking?" Daisy asks meekly.

"Yes," Hollyn and I answer. Carter, of course, is nowhere near the conversation. He's off in his own little world.

"I never realized how much I was missing out on, how sheltered I truly was, until I started living outside the bubble I was in with Grams. Now, seeing how Amanda and Matt interact with others, how easy it is for them, makes me wonder if I'll ever be like them or if I will forever hide behind my craft table awkwardly wishing I was able to be a part of everyone else's world."

Tossing the pen to the ground, Carter lifts his head, anger seeps out of him. "You don't want to be like everyone else, Snowflake." His tone is harsh, menacing. "This world is all kinds of fucked up. Hang on to your innocence. You don't want to be a clone. Be you. Own you."

Own you. Those two words resonate with me.

"Own you," I repeat softly and then a little louder. "Own you."

Looking around the circle, into the eyes of my peers I was randomly put together with but for a reason, I say, "Carter is right. Own. You." Taking a deep breath, I decide to step up. This feeling that's eating me alive has to go away somehow, I don't want to feel fucking sick anymore. "We are all here for a reason, because of something holding us back, whether it be our upbringing, a loss we've suffered, or a setback we've experienced. We are here to change. Like Marleen said, we've been given the tools to grieve, permission to acknowledge and experience the hole our grief caused us. Then, we let it go. We've been building the relationships between us, but perhaps what we need to do is accept who we are now, and move forward. Own. You."

"What if we don't like who we are?" Hollyn asks.

"You have to own it to change it," I answer back. "Right, Carter?"

"Sure," he says, reverting to his unsociable self. And here I thought he was going to be helpful . . . for a second.

"This week's challenge is to set goals for ourselves. I think we should own who we are now and set a goal for who we want to be at the end of this program."

"I'm sure Carter wants to be a manlier version of Cher, don't you?" Hollyn asks jokingly, lightening the mood.

Glancing up, he replies sarcastically, "I really do want to believe in life after love."

"Yeah, that will be the day. I've worked with you for a few years now, you're not the love kind of guy."

"Love doesn't exist." Carter picks up his pen off the ground and starts twirling it again in between his fingers.

"You don't believe in love?" Daisy asks, looking like someone just stole her puppy. This sweet girl.

He spares her a glance and shakes his head. "Hard to believe in love when you've never really known what it is."

The fun banter quickly dies off, and we're left with feeling awkward once again. "Uh, we kind of got off topic here."

"Because this group stuff is bullshit." Carter shifts in his seat, pushing down on his jeans. "Do you really think this is going to help you? Talking about your feelings?"

"It's better than bottling it up," Daisy says.

"She's right. I don't think this program is meant to cure you week by week like Marleen said. It's supposed to present you with different challenges to break free of the monotony you're living in. It challenges you to try new things, to actually talk when you don't want to."

"Which is all the time," Carter says under his breath.

"Then just leave," Hollyn counters. "If you don't like it, leave. You're bringing down the group, Carter."

An icy stare meets Hollyn, and I watch as she doesn't back down. "You know I can't fucking do that, Hollyn. You out of everyone should know I can't just leave."

"Pay the fee, then, if you're that miserable."

"Yeah? With what money?" Carter shoots back, looking more alive than ever. And it clicks. Hollyn is pushing his buttons to get him to talk more. Smart, ballsy woman. "It's hard to pay for anything when your ex-girlfriend stole all your money."

The second his words leave his mouth you can tell he regrets saying anything. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he blows out a long breath. "Fuck it. Give me a piece of paper so I can write my damn letter and get the hell out of here."

"Is that what you meant about life emasculating you?" Daisy asks out of pure curiosity.

"I didn't ask you to psycho-analyze me, Snowflake, so don't fucking try."

"I wasn't . . ." She pauses, her eyes forming tears, a slight shake to her head. I'm about to speak up when Daisy flees her chair and walks briskly over to the hall where the bathrooms are.

"Wow, great job, Carter. You made the innocent one cry." Hollyn stands up and starts walking toward the bathroom.

Regret fills Carter's face and when I think he's going to leave, he stands and chases down Hollyn, sending her back in my direction.

Furious, she sits down and crosses her arms over her chest. "He's such an asshole."

"He's hurting too," I say, trying to see it from both sides.

"You're not seriously defending him, are you?"

"I'm looking at the situation from all angles." I hold up my hands in defense.

"Creative listening, I know." She smiles, a smile that eases the tension in my shoulders.

"Ah, so you do remember how to smile. I was thinking for a second you forgot."

"What does that mean?" she asks.

"It means you've been weird all meeting. Are you regretting our little pussy-petting rendezvous? Because I sure as hell don't regret it."

Scanning the room for listeners, Hollyn leans forward. "Say that a little louder, why don't you?"

A chuckle rumbles from my chest. "Hey, I have nothing to hide. It was a good time. I felt comfortable talking to you." The admission feels a little awkward, a little clumsy, but it needed to be said. I feel a connection with Hollyn, and I want it to continue to grow. For some reason, I can see a key to happiness within her. I can see her pain helping my pain.

Looking me up and down, a smirk caressing her beautiful lips, she says, "I had a nice time as well."

For a moment, we sit there, smiling at each other, soaking in the atmosphere. What is she thinking? Does she feel the same connection I feel between us? I sure as hell hope so.

"This is my last meeting for a bit, at least in person," I say, breaking the silence.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"Spring training. I have to report soon to Arizona."

"Oh, that's right. I guess I forget you're a professional baseball player." Her cheeks redden. "Uh, so what are you going to do about the meetings?"

"FaceTime in. You guys can sit me in the chair, my face on an iPad. I've already talked to Marleen about it."

"So we'll only have iPad Jace." Her negative response makes me happy for some reason. I want her to be disappointed to not see me in person.

"Not for long. And I've worked it out that I can come back a few times as well. Believe me, the front office is being very flexible with me right now."

"I can imagine they are, they want their star player healthy and happy."

A laugh pops out of me. "I wouldn't say star player."

"Rookie of the Year with a batting average that rated second in the National League, pretty sure you're their star player." Her hair falls to the side, vibrant red strands caressing her cheek, emphasizing the light spattering of freckles on her cheeks.

I wiggle my eyebrows. "Reading up on me?"

She shrugs, a light blush still staining her cheeks. "I used to be a huge sports fan, and I can't help but read about my teams on occasion."

"Used to be?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

All she has to say is one word for me to understand. "Eric."

"Fair enough." I lean forward, clasp my hands together, and look at her from under my bill. "But we're going to have to fix that." With a wicked smile, I meet her eyes, and fuck me, they're sparkling right back at me.

CARTER.

You know that feeling you get when anger eclipses you and you can't think of anything else to do besides slamming your fist through a wall? That's where I am.

Daisy, fucking Snowflake. She gets under my skin, buries herself deep within, and shows no plans on leaving.

At first, when I was texting her, I was trying to be nice. It seemed like she wanted someone to talk to, and hell, I kind of wanted someone to talk to as well. She fascinates me. But then I took it a step further and baked with her.

All innocent, right? Wrong.

I'm not an idiot, I saw the way she was looking at me, I caught her staring every once in a while, caught the way her eyes would roam my body.

And hell if I didn't do the same thing. Under those khakis and turtlenecks, there is a beautifully pure woman waiting to break free. She's hesitant, a little skittish, but from the look in her eyes when I would lean close, I could see something else: yearning.

And that's why this is all fucked up because a part of me wants to see where that yearning could lead, but I can't because I'm a bitter bastard who would destroy her. She's sunshine and rainbows; I'm rainclouds and puddles. I match well with girls like Sasha, who share the same hate I have toward life. I don't go for girls who can easily see the good in everything.

I knew coming to the meeting tonight was going to be hard, but I didn't know it was going to be this hard. Even beneath the corduroy pants and crewneck sweatshirt with a watering can on the front, I felt the pull between us, like our beings were trying to attach themselves together. I wanted to talk to her, ask her how her fucking day was, if she brought me any cookies. But that almost seemed too intimate. So, I did what I do best. Acted like a dick.

With a foot propped against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest, I wait for Daisy to come out of the bathroom. It's only a brief five minutes before she appears and when she does, I immediately notice her red-rimmed eyes. Shit.

"Oh," she says, startled when she sees me. "Um, excuse me." She tries to sidestep me but I grab her by the wrist and stop her. When I spin her back around, she's shocked, maybe a little scared.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, just wanting to get this over with. "I didn't mean to be rude to you or hurt your feelings."

"You didn't," she replies with a brave face and lifted chin.

"No?" I cup her cheek and wipe under her eye with my thumb. "Then why are your eyes wet?"

Searching my eyes, she tries to formulate a response. She tries to lower her head but I don't let her. She lets out a frustrated breath and asks, "Why don't you want to be my friend? I might be different, but I'm still a nice girl."

"Yes, you are a nice girl, Daisy. That's the problem. You're pure, the furthest thing from me."

Her nose scrunches up in a cute way that makes me want to . . . no, not going there.

"I don't understand."

Retreating away from her, I run my hand through my short, dark hair and say, "I'll tarnish you, Daisy. I've done things, seen things that would make you blush, quiver, think again about ever stepping outside your house. I'm not the kind of person you should be hanging out with."

"And who are you to decide that?" she asks, puffing her chest out, surprising me.