He rubs his palms up and down his thighs, along the material of his jeans, as he stares down at the floor. “I’m not sure exactly. I think everything began gradually. A bump of cocaine here and there, topped with the alcohol that we always partied with . . . I don’t know . . . I like the feeling of not worrying.”

My heart breaks for him. While I might not have turned to drugs to help mask the pain I felt after Annie died, I did turn to the one thing I found helped take my mind off it. “I can understand wanting to forget for a while.”

His eyes flick up to mine, and I can see the relief in them. “You can?”

I nod, feeling myself teetering on the edge of professionalism. Exactly how much of my own personal life should I be revealing to him? “I think everyone reaches a point in their lives when they want nothing more than to forget something, or forget the possibility that a good thing can go terribly wrong at any time.”

“You’ve felt that way?” he asks, his need to know the answer burning in his eyes. It’s like he wants confirmation that he’s not alone in struggling with the crazy feelings going on inside him.

I know it’s not professional, but I think sharing might be the only way to make him understand that everyone feels the way he does from time to time. “Yes, for a long time. My sister—my twin—died, and it’s a pain I’ve been running from for nearly four years.”

He licks his lips slowly as he digests what I’ve just told him. “What’s that like? Losing your twin?”

I sigh as the familiar pain grips my heart like a vice as I think about Annie. “I imagine losing anyone you love is probably hard, but in my mind there’s nothing that could be harder than losing my sister. She was the one person who understood everything about me, the one person who knew all my secrets and understood my crazy personality. It’s hard not having her in my life anymore. Annie” —I take in a ragged breath— “she was my other half, my soul mate, someone who can’t be replaced.”

I fully expect him to pepper me with more questions, but instead he returns his stare to the floor. I wonder if any of what I just told him makes sense.

I open my mouth to continue to push him for more about his reliance on benzodiazepine to forget, but close it the moment there’s a knock on my office door. “Excuse me a moment.”

I rise from my seat to answer the door, laying my notepad and pen on the couch next to Tyke.

I find Kimmy standing on the other side, wearing a hot pink top and jeans, chomping on a piece of gum. “Hey, Frannie. I’ve got to go into town to pick up some cleaning supplies in a bit. Do you want to come with me? It’s the perfect time to get out of here for a while.”

I glance down at the wristwatch I have on and nod. “Sure, our session time is up anyway. Let me wrap up, and I’ll be ready in a few minutes, okay?”

She nods. “Sure thing. I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

I close the door behind her and turn my attention back to Tyke, who is standing in the middle of the office now, watching me curiously, like he’s seeing me for the first time.

I interlock my fingers in front of me. “Sorry about that. I don’t mean to rush you or anything. If you need more time, I can—”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. Go. I’ve got a splitting headache anyhow. I should probably go and lay down.”

This is it, I bet. The beginning to the detox he’s been so adamant that he’s not going to experience. “All right. I’ll see you again when you’re feeling well enough to continue our sessions.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a headache. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I give him a small smile. “Okay, then.”

Tyke doesn’t say another word, just walks past me and out the door.

As soon as I’m alone, I drop my head into my hand and rub my forehead. I hope I can help him. There’s always that little bit of niggling doubt in my head as to whether I’m cut out for this job or not. Can I really help people who have addictions when I still struggle with one myself? An addiction that’s become a whole lot harder to fight since I succumbed to that kiss? I should’ve known better and never allowed him to get so close. His physical presence just does something to me that I can’t explain. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he’d be my biggest professional challenge, but I didn’t anticipate the personal challenge as well. No matter how much I want him, I have to remain focused on the reason he’s here and try to help him overcome the darkness that threatens to envelope him.

I slump down in the chair next to the couch and reach for the notepad, my gaze pausing on what Tyke’s left behind.

A single green guitar pick.

I hold the thin piece of plastic between my fingers and examine the words he’s written on the back.

Thank you.

I fold my fingers around it and clutch it to my chest as pride washes over me.

I’m doing this.

I’m getting through to him.

“Behind Blue Eyes” – Limp Bizkit

Climbing the massive staircase back to my room takes forever. The pounding in my skull began when Frannie and I were talking in her office. Through most of our time together, I could ignore the constant thumping, but now it’s almost unbearable.

My door swings open with ease and I collapse on the twin bed, facedown. Sweat pours out of me and drenches my shirt. I must be coming down with something. It feels like the fucking flu. This is not the most opportune time for me to be sick.