I could hear him sobbing and once again he broke my heart.

And I knew it was one of those times I had to hold him up because I sensed that he desperately wanted to fall down.

“Clay, baby, please don’t let them hold this power over you! Stop for a moment and think about all of the things you’ve already accomplished! You’ve taken control of your life! You are so smart, passionate, talented. You love with your whole heart and you remind me every day what it means to fight for something that matters,” I told him.

Clay had stopped crying and was quiet again. His silence had always made me nervous. It was ingrained in me to wonder what he was doing to fill the void. What thoughts were wreaking havoc in his mind? What he would do to deal with the pain he was feeling.

But I had to trust him. I had to. He needed people to have faith in him, even if my instincts cried out for me to be wary.

He deserved it.

“That’s fine, tear up the stupid check then. Light it on fire and watch it burn. Or put it away and maybe one day you’ll be able to take that money and do something positive with it,” I tentatively suggested.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mags,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion.

“Well lucky for you, you’ll never find out,” I promised.

“I love you so much. I swear to god I’ll do whatever I have to do to make things right for us. One day I won’t be such a f**king mess. One day I won’t cripple you with my shit. I’ll do this for you and for me. I won’t let them destroy me. It’ll take more than their hate to sink me,” Clay said, sounding stronger than he had in weeks.

“You can do anything you want, Clay. I believe in you. Now you need to believe in you.”

“Well at least now I can buy you one hell of a Christmas present,” Clay said lightly and I felt relief flood my body.

“I’m counting on it,” I teased, thankful that the intensity of the moment had passed…for now.

6

I pulled the check from the bottom drawer of my dresser for the millionth time. Five-hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money. But it wasn’t nearly enough to erase the bullshit pain I had been dealt by the people who had given it to me.

I was so angry after opening the letter from my parents’ lawyer; I had crumpled up the check and the official letter stating that this money was contingent on having no further contact with my parents. You know, the people who had given me life, for whatever the hell that was worth. Because obviously it didn’t mean shit to them.

I thought I had met my f**ked-up-things-parents-do quota for a lifetime. Apparently not. Just when I thought they could no longer shock me, they had to pull out this doozy.

It wasn’t as though I was holding onto the unrealistic idea that one day they’d wake up and decide to be the mom and dad I wanted them to be. They were way too invested in being shitty human beings to be anything else.

But the black and white finality of that letter still hurt. Hell, it hurt a lot.

What to do with the pay off money then? Do I cash it and put it toward something important like Maggie suggested? Do I set the bitch on fire and watch it turn to ash? That seemed like some seriously overly dramatic symbolism though.

So instead, I smoothed out the rumpled paper and shoved it in my dresser drawer, underneath a stack of T-shirts.

But it sat there, burning a hole through to the floor.

There was a knock on my door that made me jump a foot before slamming the drawer closed. I didn’t know my roommates well enough to trust them with the knowledge of a half a million dollars in my room.

I opened the door to find Ryan standing awkwardly in the hallway. He shoved the portable phone into my hand. “You’ve got a phone call. Sounds like a chick,” he mumbled before shuffling away.

It couldn’t be Maggie or Ruby. They only ever called my cell phone. I wasn’t due any calls from Roberta or my therapist. That eliminated all of the possible options. Shit, I really didn’t know that many people. I wasn’t sure if that made me hopelessly pathetic or extremely relieved.

“Hello?” I said into the receiver.

“Clay?” a voice said and I frowned.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me. Um, Maria. Tyler gave me your number. I didn’t want to call your cell in case you didn’t answer.”

My eyes widened and I thought seriously about hanging up. Maria’s head games and bullshit were the last things I needed. Fucking Tyler! He clearly needed a thorough explanation of what don’t give my number out to anyone actually meant.

Because clearly something had been lost in communication. Damn it!

“Maria,” I said evenly, waiting for her to talk. I wasn’t going to make this easy on her. She f**king called me.

“You were right,” she let out in a rush, surprising me. I mean, I could think of a lot of things I had been right about in my life. James Cameron’s Titanic, yeah it was just a movie about a ship sinking and lots of people dying. Kate Winslet’s boob did not make up for the fact that it sucked.

How about my affirmation that Coke Zero tasted nothing like actual Coca Cola. Don’t let the name fool you, people. And the dumbass working for Subway that decided to put turkey and avocado in the same sandwich should be f**king lynched.

So I needed a little clarification as to what I had been right about this time.

“About?” I prompted.

“Everything,” she said quietly.

“Can you be more specific?” I said dryly. I wouldn’t give this girl an inch. I thought Maria had been my friend. She had been one of the few people I had allowed myself to get close to while in treatment. Yeah, I know life works differently when you’re in that setting, but I saw a whole lot of myself in Maria. I thought we were on the same page when it came to the way we saw things.