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manifesting itself at a most inopportune time.
    “The last thing I want to do is cause you pain,” he said, sweat still wet on his brow, watching the tears roll down my face. “Talk to me, Loren. Tell me what’s in your head.”
    “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” I said. “I’m lost, and I thought I’d found a path forward, but now I’m not so sure.”
    “If you’re not sure, then it’s not right,” he said. “Is the love there? Is any love there anymore? I would get it if there wasn’t. We’ve been through a lot—more than what many people go through in a lifetime—just over the past weeks.”
    I searched in my heart and I couldn’t come up with an answer. I was attracted to him, sure, but the part of me that had loved him was damaged, scared, confused. I didn’t know what to say, and he saw it.
    Patrick held my chin between his thumb and finger for a long moment before nodding.
    “I understand,” he said, and my heart broke anew when he gently set me aside, stood up, and got dressed, that scar livid, a tangible reminder of what we’d almost lost by being together. I wanted to say something, anything, but my throat felt thick and slow.
    I let him walk out the door without another word, and then I cried myself to sleep, a girl who’d had something she thought she wanted until she realized she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Life after having Patrick, and letting him go, was hard. Photography was my only anchor. I was wary and jumpy and wished that I could find my equilibrium.
    It helped immensely when I heard back from Mere at the gallery, telling me that I was the “great photographer” she’d been looking for and they’d plan on exhibiting my work in the spring, right around the same time that my senior project, if I’d done one, would show. It helped bolster my decision to turn my back on school. If I could succeed in the real world, what need did I have for a degree? It was just a piece of paper, after all. I’d gleaned all the knowledge I needed to while I was here.
    ***
    I’d grown leery of answering numbers I didn’t know, ever since I’d gotten the call from Shawn, requesting me to bail him out of jail. Still, though, I had to answer. What if someone needed my help? I couldn’t leave anyone in the lurch. 
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, Loren.”
    I blinked a few times, quickly. Could this call really be happening?
    “Shawn?”
    “Yeah.” He sounded almost sheepish. “It’s me.”
    Several more awkward moments of silence passed before I cleared my throat. 
    “How are things?” It was a stupid thing to ask, but I didn’t know what else there was to say. We hadn’t spoken since that wretched day Patrick had been shot. 
    “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, sounding somewhere between sheepish and hopeful. “But not over the phone, probably. You deserve to hear this in person…if you want to hear it.”
    Whatever “it” was, it didn’t sound like something I really wanted to hear about, but I didn’t want to discourage Shawn. If I was being perfectly honest, I was curious about what he had to say.
    “What do you have in mind?” I asked him.
    “I’ve been in a residential treatment center since…you know,” he said. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been working hard at what they’ve asked me to do. I’ve reached the point in my treatment where I’m trying to get ahold of people I’ve wronged, and I have a lot of amends I have to make to you.”
    “Shawn, it’s really water under the bridge,” I said quickly, hoping to spare the both of us the awkwardness of apologies. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
    “I appreciate your kindness,” he said. “But I really need your understanding…and your time. I know it’s not ideal, and I know you’re busy with school and your time outside of it. But if you could, I would really like to say what needs to be said while looking you in your