My eyes zeroed in on my sneakers. I felt small. And vulnerable. “That's good,” I choked out. I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell. I wanted to disappear into my hidey hole and never come out. Damn, and I had been feeling so good too.

“Maggie, sweetie,” Lisa said quietly and I looked up at her again and I wanted to cringe at the blatant sympathy in her eyes. I hated sympathy like I hated polyester. It made me itchy and uncomfortable. “I know things have been rough for you. I saw how much you loved him. Just know he's really trying to get himself together.”

I swallowed around the lump that had formed in my throat. I couldn't deny the relief that I felt at her words. I wanted Clay healthy and whole. I wanted him to get better. And I could admit that I hoped once he did that, he would come back to me. Because even as angry as I was at him for giving up on us, I missed him so much I hurt with it. So hearing that he was trying was the absolute best thing I could hear.

“I'm glad,” I told her sincerely. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Rachel and Daniel were watching Lisa and me intently. The concern for me was obvious on both of their faces. I gave them, what I hoped, was a reassuring smile. I also noticed that Jake was paying close attention to my exchange with Lisa. I wanted to roll my eyes at the lot of them. Did they think I was going to fall apart just by talking to a person connected with my ex? Sheesh, they should give me a bit more credit than that.

“I should get back to it. It was great seeing you again, Lisa,” I said; ready to put distance between me and the sudden reminder of my painful, not so distant past. I gave the other woman a final hug and started back toward the counter.

“Do you want us to give him a message? We're planning to see him next week for his birthday,” she called out, just as I was about to make my escape.

The breath left my lungs. Clay's birthday. Of course it was coming up. I thought about the present I had worked on for him just after he had left. It still sat, wrapped in newspaper, underneath my bed. I squared my shoulders and shook my head.

“No that's okay. Have a nice trip,” I said dismissively, not wanting to talk about Clay anymore. Lisa seemed to take the hint. She picked up her to-go cup and with a last smile, left the café.

I noticed that my friends didn't approach me. They knew I wasn't in the mood to discuss what had just happened and I appreciated their sixth sense when it came to my feelings. Jake gave me space as well and for that I was grateful.

Because right then, my mind was too full and my heart was too heavy. And that's all I could focus on.

Chapter Three

-Clay-

I stared down at the spiral notebook in my lap. The pencil in my hand was limp between my fingers and I couldn't focus on the chicken scratch on the pages. My breathing had become shallow and my heart rate had accelerated to an alarming rate.

I was in the midst of a full blown panic attack. Dr. Todd was looking at me with concern which should have freaked me the f**k out. Because not much marred the good doc's placid calm. But I must be making a massive spectacle of myself if he looked as though he were ready to put a tranq needle in my arm.

“Breathe, Clay. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Count backwards from twenty. Slowly. In and out.” Dr. Todd's words were firm and I needed that right now because my mind had rioted against me.

I followed his advice and closed my eyes, concentrating on the numbers in my head. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I clenched my hands into fists, trying to control the urge to scratch at my skin until it bled. I needed the physical hurt to erase the horrible goddamned agony in my heart.

Not once did Dr. Todd touch me, no comforting hand on the arm or pat on the back. Which was good, because I would have punched him in the nose if he had. Instead, he sat in the chair opposite of me, counting with me down from twenty. Reminding me to focus on my breathing.

After going through the count down five times, my body finally started to unclench and my heart rate began to slow down. My breathing was less shallow and it felt safe to open my eyes.

“Better?” Dr. Todd asked me, the concern gone, replaced by his typical neutral expression. Some people might be bothered by the therapist’s lack of emotional response. For me, it was exactly what I needed. I had lived my life being ruled by my feelings, worrying about what those emotions would do to the people around me. So having someone sit there, seemingly unphased by my shit, was nice.

I nodded and put the pencil down in the crease of my notebook. I closed it without another look, knowing that what I had written on its pages was what precipitated the level ten meltdown. The sound of some sort of new age music punctuated the silence. It made me think of Ruby and in that moment, that was more crucial in helping me get my shit together than anything else.

“Man, I wasn't expecting that,” I let out in a quiet rush. I ran my shaking hand through my hair, knowing it was probably sticking straight up. Good thing I didn't give a crap about things like my appearance.

Dr. Todd smiled in understanding. “You handled that really well, Clay. You're learning to manage your attacks much better. You should feel good about that.” I knew the doc was trying to offer me something to feel positive about. But I didn't want any of it.

Just when I thought I had things under control, the reality of who I was smacked me squarely in the face. Being nuts was no fun let me tell you. I was a far cry from being the lovable eccentric. The wacky dude who mumbled to himself and wore his pants inside out. Nope, my kind of nuts was scary and consuming.