Page 99 of Habits

Asshole: I’m sorry.

Just that. No explanation, no excuse, no anything.

Two words.

Seven letters.

I’m sorry.

I still stare at it, when the door to my room bursts open.

“You’re awake.”

Removing the message, I lock my phone and slide it under the pillow.

“Yeah,” I rasp. My throat is so dry I have to clear it a few times so it’s somewhat understandable. “Just got up.”

I sit up straight in bed and turn on the bedside lamp to illuminate the dark room. A shiver runs down my body, so I pull the covers up to keep the chill away.

Max nods. “I made you some soup.”

Just the idea of putting something in my mouth makes my stomach roll. “A bit later?”

Max gives me a long, hard stare. “Jeanette …” My name is an exasperated sigh.

He enters the room and slowly starts walking toward my bed, like he’s afraid I’ll run away. And maybe I will. Maybe I should.

Max sits by my side, taking my hands between his. We both look at our joined hands for a while, not speaking a word.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “What was yesterday all about?”

Sighing, I tilt my head back before I concentrate on his face. “I’m fine, Max.”

“But are you? Are you really?”

Gray eyes look over my face intently. Observing, watching, looking for signs. I know those eyes; I saw them for months and months after everything happened the first time around.

I give him a reassuring squeeze. “I. Am. Fine.” I look him straight in the eyes as I say those words, hoping he’ll be able to see it. Feel it. “Really.”

“You don’t look fine, Anette. You look like somebody ready to spiral out of control again. All these months I keep looking at you, wondering if I’m missing something again. Are you really fine or are you pretending? Will I be able to see it this time around? If you fall back to the darkness, will I be able to see it? Will I be able to pull you back out before it’s too late?”

Every word comes out faster and faster, like he can’t say them fast enough. Like they’ve been haunting him for a while, and now that the first one is uttered out loud, there is no stopping the rest.

His eyes are wide, looking at me with so much fear and hurt. Panic.

How long has he been holding this in? How long has he been afraid?

His hands hold on to mine tightly, so tightly it’s starting to hurt, yet I can’t make myself ask him to let go.

“Max …”

“I can’t lose you, Jeanette.” He shakes his head desperately. “I can’t. That time you broke. So small. So pale. Sofragile. You’ll never understand the fear I felt as I watched you literally fall apart in front of my eyes. I don’t think I even realized until that moment how breakable, how mortal you are. The fear, the panic … it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. You and me, Anette. We’re a team. We’re one person. Losing you would be like losing a part of myself. I almost lost you once, and I barely survived it. To lose you for real …”

He chokes on the rest of the sentence, and the only thing preventing me from throwing myself at him is the hold he has on me.

“Max, I’m fine.”

“But are you really?” His eyes look over my face, my exposed hands. “You look skinnier than you did a few weeks ago. I saw you barely touch your lunch a few times at school.”

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