Chapter 3

Megan and I had been renting our apartment for five years, and the lease was up in two weeks.

The floor was covered with half-packed belongings and trash.

I didn't bother turning on the lights. I went straight to bed.

I woke with a start. It was still dark out, and I smelled cigarette smoke.

Megan was sitting in the living room. "Sleep well?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

She stared at the medical tape on the back of my hand and sneered. "You really went all out on the props. Where are your medical records? Let's see them. Oh, right, I forgot. You can't buy those at a pharmacy."

My head felt foggy, and my heart was pounding. The smoke tickled my throat, and I couldn't stop coughing.

She'd started smoking after Jeff went abroad.

The first time I smelled smoke on her, she said it had rubbed off on her at a dinner with her boss.

Later, I caught her smoking downstairs in the middle of the night with five or six cigarette butts at her feet. We had a huge fight and gave each other the cold shoulder for a week.

We both knew without saying it that the smoking wasn't what I was really angry about. It was just an excuse to vent.

I had no appetite, couldn't sleep at night, and still had to work overtime, so all I could do was pour coffee down my throat. After a week of that, I passed out from stomach pain at the office.

When I came to, Megan was sitting by my hospital bed holding my hand, her eyes wet and red.

"I'm sorry, Max. I was wrong. I promise I'll never smoke again, not even one puff.

"Please forgive me? I love you. I'll never hurt you like this again."

I forgave her.

But she broke her promise.

I rushed to the bathroom to throw up and stubbed my foot on the broken guitar lying on the floor. It started bleeding.

Her face cold, Megan sat me down on the closed toilet lid, cleaned the cut with iodine, and bandaged it.

Tears welled up before I could stop them. Humiliated, I scrubbed at them with my hands.

Megan's gaze visibly softened and turned conflicted. "Why are you..."

She sighed, crouched beside me, and took my hand. "Max, can you stop this, please? I admit I was wrong. Whatever chair you like, we'll go buy it. It doesn't matter how much it costs.

"Just don't take it out on Jeff. He treats us like family, and he's really worried about you."

As she spoke, she reached for the tape on the back of my hand.

I flinched away, and at almost the same moment, her phone rang.

She stood, took a deep breath, and went out to answer it.

"Megan, Max's home? Thank goodness. As long as he's okay."

Maybe she wanted me to hear how much her good junior cared about me, because she turned the speaker volume up.

"Don't blame him, and don't fight while you're both upset. Your relationship is what matters most. Don't worry about me."

She gave a muffled "Mm" and told him to get some sleep.

"And, Megan..."

Jeff broke off mid-sentence.

"Yes? Jeff?"

The call dropped.

Megan called back several times, but no one picked up, and each call cut off on its own.

"I'm going over to check on him."

Anxious and on edge, she hurried out.

I let out a short, quiet laugh.

I threw up a few more times, then went back to bed and watched the sky slowly brighten outside while my head pounded like it was splitting open.

Then I smelled smoke again, and it wasn't the smell of nicotine.

Startled wide awake, I threw open the bedroom door. The living room was full of thick smoke.

A cigarette butt had set the scrap paper on the floor on fire, and the whole sofa had gone up in flames.