But then there were other days.

Days that Danny somehow made it to “lights out” feeling somewhat like himself. Days he was able to keep a rein on his thoughts, steering them out of sinister waters. Days when he could see an end in sight—no matter how far off it might seem—and all at once there was something to strive for.

Those were the days his heart felt like it was being shredded.

Because when things were good, he thought about her constantly. Wondering if he’d made the wrong decision. How she was holding up. Whether or not she was angry with him.

Wondering if there was even the slightest chance she might take him back when this was all over.

He wasn’t sure it would even be possible to earn back her trust after everything he’d done, but on his good days, Danny promised himself he’d exhaust every avenue and deplete every resource trying.

And today had been decent for him, which meant it was a horrible day to attempt a conversation with her.

He couldn’t allow this temporary sense of well-being to sway him, because tomorrow, it could be gone, and there would be no way to guarantee if or when it would come back.

Danny watched her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, but her expression remained impassive as she watched him standing there, rooted to the ground.

He tried to summon the resistance he’d relied on so many times when the need for her pulled at him relentlessly. The same power that prevented him from dialing her number, despite the amount of times he’d gone into the call room to do exactly that. The same resistance that prevented him from sending her emails, despite the fact that he’d drafted several, only to delete them before logging out of the system.

Danny knew it wouldn’t be fair to allow the good days to give either of them false hope. He couldn’t call her on a good day and then abandon her when he was pulled back under. He couldn’t email her one day and then ask her to leave him alone the next.

And so he resisted every urge he had to reconnect with her.

But she was here. And he could feel the unmistakable tug in his body, his heart galloping in his chest.

He wanted so desperately to know what she was thinking in that moment. Why she had come. But he had absolutely no idea what the past month had looked like for her.

The one time Danny had given into an impulse and asked Jake about Leah, Jake’s response had been a lengthy tirade focusing on what a complete asshole Danny was being.

He vowed then and there never to bring her up with Jake again.

And he knew better than to ask Gram about her. She wouldn’t be as blunt as Jake, but her quiet disappointment in Danny’s decision would be even more cutting in its own way.

Danny didn’t need a lecture from anyone. He knew he was doing the right thing by letting her go, no matter what anyone else thought. No one else was in there with him. No one else was living his every day. So how could they even pretend to know what was best?

As he stood there, watching her watch him, there was a split second where he contemplated turning around. No good could come of this visit with her—he knew that—but the thought of walking away from her made his gut wrench. It was excruciating enough when he’d done it the first time, and he hadn’t prepared himself for the task of doing it again.

She wasn’t supposed to come back here.

He felt himself take a step in her direction before he’d even made a conscious decision to move, and then she stood, releasing her mother’s bracelet as her hands fell to her sides. He watched her curl and uncurl them into fists a few times before he lifted his eyes back to hers.

Now that he was closer, he could see the emotions fighting for control on her face: a knotty combination of sadness, fear, and determination.

Danny reached for the chair across from her and pulled it out. He could hear his heart beating in his ears as he sat before her, and Leah lowered herself into the chair, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

For a few seconds, they sat there in silence.

Danny cleared his throat softly. “Jake?” he asked.

“Knows I’m here,” she responded softly, and Danny looked down and nodded slowly.

Silence.

“He said I could have his visit if I promised to bring him back some Skittles.”

Danny laughed before he could stop himself, and he glanced up to see her smiling uneasily. She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, and then her smile dropped at the same time her eyes did.

Leah took a deep breath, her eyes on her lap as she said, “A long time ago, I asked you to stop playing games. And you promised me that you’d never lie to me.” She looked up and met his gaze. “I came here because I need to know the truth about something.”

Danny nodded once. “Okay.”

She wet her lips, the determination temporarily winning out in her expression. “Why did you break up with me?”

Danny closed his eyes before he exhaled. Goddamn it. He’d been prepared to answer any question but that one.

“Leah,” he said weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

The seconds ticked by, hollow and unforgiving.

“Is it because you really don’t want me anymore?” she asked.

Danny rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Don’t do this, Leah.”

“It’s a simple question,” she said, completely undeterred by his plea. “All I’m asking for is honesty.”

Danny looked down at his hands. There was no answer he could come up with that wouldn’t send him down a path he refused to travel down with her.

“Are you afraid the truth will hurt me?” she asked. “Don’t be. Nothing you can say now will hurt me more than the words you said last time.”

Danny’s head snapped up; her eyes were on him, her expression unapologetic.

Her words hung in the air between them, acrid and insufferable, and Danny had to look away. He could feel little pinpricks in his chest, shame and self-loathing battling for control in his body.

“Do you still love me?” she asked.

He took a breath before he looked across the table at her. This time, there was nothing behind her eyes but vulnerability, and he knew if she deserved an honest answer to any question, it was this one.

“Yes,” he said gently.

“And do you still want to be with me?”

“Leah—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Enough of the run-around. I want an answer, Danny. Because all of this,” she said, gesturing around them, “is only temporary. Don’t lose sight of that. And when this is over, what do you want? Do you want to start a new life with me? Do you want to come home to me every day? Do you want to have dinners with me, and go grocery shopping with me, and watch crappy TV together, and make love to me while we listen to our song? Do you want to get Christmas trees together, and go on vacations, and have babies? Do you want to take bubble baths with me, and teach me things in the garage, and hold me every night while we fall asleep?”

Danny’s chest constricted, squeezing and compressing with vice-like intensity until it sent his heart up into his throat. What she had described was so agonizingly beautiful, it felt like there wasn’t enough room in his body to accommodate it.

It had been so long since he’d allowed himself a fantasy of that caliber. Dreams like that cost too much to entertain inside these walls.

But her words were warm and palliative in his veins, and for a moment, envisioning what she described didn’t feel torturous. It wasn’t a cruel act of masochism. It wasn’t a hopeless pipedream.

Because Leah was sitting in front of him, momentarily turning that fantasy into a promise.

He should have been used to it by now; from the moment she came into his life, she started reviving him—making him feel again, making him appreciate things, helping him learn how to forgive himself, making him think he was someone worthy of love. And here she was, offering to save him all over again.