If I had my way, I would never, ever do what I'm about to do. Which is visit Sully. Face to face. After the embarrassing spectacle I made of myself the night before. I'd hide beneath the blankets on Hartley's bed until it's time to go back home.

But I can't. I have to apologize for acting like a spaz.

After we finished at Lady Bijou's, Penny drove Hartley to her weekly therapy appointment and Jolie decided to fill in for another instructor at the yoga studio, which leaves me with a free afternoon.

So here I am, standing on Sully's sprawling front porch, my fist hovering inches away from his screen door. Maybe in some alternate universe, like the one Hartley insists exists, last night never happened. Maybe when he sees me, he'll act completely normal. Because that's what last night was—one hundred percent, completely normal.

And maybe cats will sprout fairy wings and fly.

As soon as the door creaks open, surprise explodes across his face. "Gwen!" he says, stepping outside. "How are you? I wanted to come and see you earlier but Hartley said I should give you some time."

His statement startles me. "She did?" She never even told me they'd spoken.

He looks embarrassed. "She said you weren't well and that you felt ... stupid, I guess. But you know you have no reason to feel bad, right? I mean, everyone gets drunk for a first time. Although, I'm kind of surprised you did." He pauses, his brown eyes filled with questions I don't want to answer. "I thought you didn't want to drink. I didn't know what to do."

Guilt wraps around me like a scarf. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I acted that way. It was stupid."

His gaze drops to the floorboards and he peeks up through his lashes. "She said you're having problems at home."

Geez, what all does Hartley tell him when I'm not around?

I shrug. "A little."

"Well...she didn't say that exactly. She more alluded to it. I put the pieces together myself." He shifts from one foot to the next, but I can tell he's proud of his personal theory. "Do you want to talk?"

He leads me to a wrought iron glider at the far end of the porch and we sit next to each other, careful our legs don't touch in the process. Flutters tickle my stomach. "My parents are getting divorced."

I peek at him sideways and find him watching me. "I'm sorry."

I glance down at my feet. "It's okay."

The ting ting ting of an old car grabs our attention. We stare as it sputters down the street and turns out of view.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Not really." Sadness bubbles in my throat but I swallow it back. "My dad is seeing someone else. He moved out several months ago."

"Wow." His voice crackles with discomfort. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It's fine."

But it's not fine. And somehow, he knows it.

Sully leans back in his seat. "After Sawyer died, things got really tense at home. My parents argued all the time, that is when they decided to talk to each other at all. And it seemed like they didn't have any time for me anymore. After a while, it got so bad I asked if I could live with my aunt and uncle in Rhode Island."

My jaw drops and I turn until I'm facing him. "You did?"

Sully nods. "They said no. But they finally realized how miserable I was—how miserable we all were. Me telling them I wanted to leave home was the catalyst that changed everything."

A hollow opens in the pit of my stomach. Sully may not have gone through exactly what I'm going through, but he's experienced a shift in his house all the same. "What happened?" I ask.

"We started family therapy, all three of us together," he says, drawing in a shaky breath.

My shoulders relax. I hadn't even realized they were strained. "Did it help?"

He nods again. "It did. It took a little while, but eventually we stopped running away from what happened. We began talking to each other more at home and started doing the things we used to do together, like family game night or going out to the movies. And slowly our grief began to disappear. I mean, we're still sad. But we can say Sawyer's name now without falling apart."

"So, everything's better?"

He takes a long moment to answer. "Not everything. I still don't like being home alone."

A chill crawls up my spine. "I remember you saying that before."

And right in front of my eyes, Sully pales. "I'm going to be home alone tonight. It's my parents' anniversary and they're going to a bed & breakfast an hour away. Of all the things we talked about in therapy, I never told them about this. I'm too embarrassed."

A lump of nervous energy shoots up from my middle and lodges in my throat. I can tell he's terrified and it makes me feel helpless.

"I can't blame them for wanting to go," he continues. "They deserve to get away. Even if it's only for a day."

"Sully ..." I place my hand on his arm. "Are you going to be alright by yourself? Maybe you should tell them you're uncomfortable."

His back stiffens but the color comes back to his cheeks. "I'll be fine. I have to get used to it, you know? I can't be afraid forever. Besides, I don't want to ruin their anniversary." He abruptly steers the conversation back to me. "But my point is, sometimes when you think the world is going to end, it doesn't."

I'm sure he's right, but not enough time has passed for me to see the bright side of things yet. And I don't want to talk about it anymore. "Hartley worked at Lady Bijou's this morning."

He looks grateful for the change of subject. "How'd it go?"

"He made her clean the bathrooms."

Sully laughs and the sound makes me smile. "I would have loved to have seen that! Was she pissed?"

"Oh, yeah. You should have seen her face! When she wasn't looking, I snapped a picture. Want to see?" I pull my phone from my back pocket and open it to the image of a disheveled-looking Hartley, eyes squinty, lips pinched, holding a mop in one hand and a bucket of dirty water in the other.

One look at her sour expression and lopsided ponytail, frizzy tendrils sneaking out from the band, and he's laughing again. And then I remember my good news. "Bastian said we could spend a day with him at the shelter next week for the community service hours you guys have to do. Do you want to come with us?"

His eyebrows slant inward. "Spend an entire day with Lady Bijou? I'm not sure ..."

"Come on." I nudge his knee with mine. "He's not so bad. Bastian only likes to tease you. He told me so himself."

I can tell he doesn't believe me.

"I swear, it's true! He said you're easy to get a rise out of." I toy nervously with the hem of my shorts. "Please come. It'll be fun. I promise."

"Oh, you promise, do you?" He smiles and laces his fingers through mine. And for a moment, I can't breathe. "As long as you're there, how bad can it be?"

"Is that a yes?" I can't keep the eagerness from my voice.

He nods.

Before I can stop myself, my arms fly around his neck. "Thank you!"

"I've never seen anyone this excited about community service before," he says, hugging me back. His arms fold tighter around me, his breath caressing my cheek. He pulls back, but doesn't release his grip. "I had a lot of fun last night."

"I did too. I'm sorry I ruined it."

Something I don't understand burns in his eyes. "You didn't ruin anything. You made it better."

"I did?" Our mouths are so close, I can practically feel them touching. "But if I hadn't acted like such an idiot, Hartley wouldn't have made me go home."

"You did not act like an idiot," he tells me. "And we still have plenty of time before you have to go back to Ohio. I plan to see you a lot between now and then."

"You do?"

His lips twitch. "I do." And before I can process the thought of how good they'd feel against mine, they are.

And it's absolutely amazing.