I wasn’t sure if I was more disappointed with Maxx and his inability to be honest and forthright, or with my own gullibility for thinking that, somehow, I was the lucky girl who got to see the broken boy beneath the hard exterior. I felt angry and hurt, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with it. For someone who had spent a long time bottling up every emotion, feeling something so intensely was crippling.

The image of him hawking his drugs was intricately intertwined with the memory of kissing him. And touching him. And sharing secrets with him that I purposefully had kept deeply buried.

Damn him!

I spoke very little in group, sticking to the agreement I’d made with Dr. Lowell. However, that didn’t stop the rest of the group members from watching me like I was going to flip out again at any moment. Most of them seemed almost excited by the possibility.

I made notes and did my best to wear my professional, no-nonsense face. I listened when people were talking, nodding as if their one-word answers were the most profound statements I had ever heard.

Maxx did not get my attention, even though I knew he wanted it. He was his normal charismatic, energy-sucking self. But I wouldn’t allow myself to respond to him in any way, not even when he made a rather pointed remark meant for me alone.

“Would anyone like to share something positive from their week?” Kristie asked as a way to start off the group. Of course, no one jumped in to answer. Big surprise.

And, of course, it was Maxx who volunteered first.

“I’d like to share something.” Maxx’s deep voice seemed to reverberate in my ears. I kept my eyes firmly on my notebook, making manic little doodles in an attempt to zone him out.

“Great, Maxx,” Kristie encouraged, sounding excited as she always did when Maxx took over. And that’s what he did. He controlled the flow of the discussion. He moved and maneuvered things to fit his purpose.

I had started to overlook his glaringly self-centered agenda when I felt I had a chance at finding something more beneath his narcissistic surface. But that was before I knew exactly who he was.

“I had a date last weekend, with the most amazing and beautiful girl I have ever met,” Maxx began, and I felt myself flush. Shit, shit, shit! If anyone found out who that particular girl was, I wouldn’t be walking away with a halfhearted warning. I’d have my ass kicked out of the counseling program faster than I could say poor boundaries.

“Really? That sounds great,” Kristie enthused. Twyla, the sorority girl who sat beside me, made an angry grunt under her breath.

Her friend Lisa leaned over and whispered. “You waited too long, T,” she teased. I peeked over at the girls, who both seemed less than thrilled by the news of Maxx’s fantastic date.

“We’ll see,” Twyla whispered back, smirking. I worked hard to rein in the urge to go bitch on her ass. The words He’s mine blossomed on my lips, and I pinched my mouth closed so I wouldn’t snarl them in some sort of animalistic impulse to stake my claim.

A claim I didn’t have, nor wanted to have.

I’ll just keep telling myself that over and over again, and then just maybe I’ll believe it.

“Yeah, we went to see a movie. Kind of lame, I know, but there’s something about this girl . . . we have this connection that I’ve never felt before,” he said softly.

I refused to look at him, though I knew he wanted me to. My heart constricted in my chest, and while a part of me did a happy dance, another part of me wanted to scream at him.

His words were nothing more than lip service, and the girlie, giggly part of me was overrun by a self-righteous anger.

I gritted my teeth and doodled more furiously in my notebook.

“That sounds very promising, Maxx. I’m happy you had such a positive experience,” Kristie said enthusiastically.

I decided to chance a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at me, for once. His attention was on Kristie, and everyone else’s was on him. So I took the time to study him, looking for the insincerity that I had convinced myself was there.

But his face was as open and genuine as I had ever seen it. A lump lodged firmly in my throat, and I felt my eyes burn. How could he know what those words meant to me, how much I wanted them to be true?

I looked away before he caught me staring. The rest of the session passed, and I barely registered anything or anyone. I didn’t rise to the bait when Evan made a nasty comment about “interfering, self-righteous” people. Nor did I bat an eye when Maxx invariably contradicted him.

I was too focused on my internal struggle over Maxx freaking Demelo. Was he the guy who had looked at me with hope in his eyes? Or was he the man who lorded over a nightclub while he passed out poison? Both were equally frightening.

After support group was over, I helped Kristie clean up and put the chairs away. Clearly, my lack of engagement during group hadn’t gone unnoticed. As soon as we were alone, Kristie made it a point to mention it.

“Aubrey, I don’t want you to feel scared to speak in group now. You are my co-facilitator; I need you to be involved. There just has to be a boundary between you and them. You have to learn what’s okay to say and what should be kept silent. It’s a process. That’s why you’re here,” Kristie said, parroting Dr. Lowell’s words as we packed up the cups and put them back in the plastic sleeves.

“I guess I just need to find that balance,” I admitted, not sure what exactly she wanted me to say.

“You know, this isn’t for everyone,” Kristie said after a beat. I looked at her in shock, her words cutting me to the quick. It was becoming painfully obvious that I wasn’t winning any points with her. I knew she questioned my motivations for being a counselor. I could tell she was beginning to think I didn’t have the innate professionalism to manage my personal feelings and keep them separate.