I tuned the guy out, nodding along just to get him to shut up. If he’d spoken to me a few weeks ago, I would’ve written notes and then taken Ada to the nearest hospital to detox. Now, I planned to drop her off at the nearest corner and kick her to the curb.

The guy must’ve noticed my disinterest, because he pulled out a card and handed it to me. “If you have questions, call. I wrote my cell number down for you too.”

“Thanks,” I said, the word tasing like ash in my mouth. I wasn’t thankful, and there wasn’t a chance I was going to call him. What was the point? I’d spent hours calling places and finding who would take Ada’s insurance, so much of my time convincing my parents that this may be the moment Ada would get better.

I looked at Ada. Her clothes looked like she’d put in an effort. She’d even taken the time to wash her hair and twist it in a clip. Which got me curious about something.

“Where do you work?” I asked.

Ada slowly turned to me. “That’s what you want to know?”

I shrugged. “You never talk about it. But I want to know that, when the time comes you get charged with a felony you’ll still be gainfully employed.”

The laugh that came out of Ada was lifeless and caustic. “I work at a call center and barely make over minimum wage. They don’t give a shit.”

I scoffed. “Right. You’ve cultivated your entire world around people who don’t care if you live or die, but you call me. Why is that, huh? Tell me, Ada. I want to know.”

Ada winced when my voice got louder, but it poured gas on a flickering ember, her face twisting with her own anger. “I didn’t want to call you, okay? The only reason you got a phone call here was because your number was the only one I knew by heart. If I’d still had my fucking phone, I would’ve had Nik come and get me.”

My blood went cold as I stared at Ada in disbelief. “How the hell did you get his number?”

At this, Ada’s shoulders hunched, raising her shaky hand to her mouth to chew on a hangnail. She looked frightened, as if the last couple of hours of her life had finally caught up with her.

“He gave it to me the other day and told me that if I was in a pinch, I could call him, and he’d help me without the riot act.” Ada continued to fidget, throwing me a quick glance. “Look, if you never want to talk to me again, fine, I get it. But I need your getting somewhere.”

“Are you fucking serious? If you expect me to drop you off at some fucking dope house, you can figure that out on your own.”

“Listen to me,” Ada said, jerking both of her fists backward and banging them on the car door. “It’s not a dope house, okay? It’s this place people go to who⁠—”

Ada’s eyes widened, and I turned to find Duncan walking toward us. I frantically looked around to see if Nik was with him, but he wasn’t. Duncan extended his hand to me, and I shook it, speechless. Then he offered it to Ada and shook hers.

I watched, utterly baffled.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt y’all,” Duncan said with a closed-mouth smile. “Ada, the officer told me that he’d explained to you the meeting we’ll be having at the Collective. Remember to be there at nine.”

“I will,” Ada said, wrapping her arms around her waist.

I looked between Ada and Duncan, trying to decipher whatever code they were speaking in, but I’d already had enough of this shitty day. “What meeting?”

“We’re going to be talking about some options for Ada,” Duncan said, his gaze flicking to me. “She got off easy today, but if this happens again, she won’t be so lucky.”

“I’m failing to understand what options you could possibly have that I’ve not already exhausted,” I said.

“Maybe none, but it’s worth a shot to see,” Duncan said before turning to Ada. “You got somewhere to stay tonight?”

Ada looked to me, her eyebrows rising toward her hairline. I rubbed my eye with my heel and sighed. “Yeah, she can come stay with me, I guess.”

“Good,” Duncan said, giving us both a thumbs-up. “Micah, it’d be a good idea if you came too. I think there are some things you’d find . . . enlightening. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Ada called, running toward Duncan. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I watched Duncan nod along while Ada pressed both her palms in front of her face like a prayer. In the end, they were smiling.

Duncan headed back to his car, raising his hand goodbye before getting inside. Ada stayed in her spot, watching Duncan’s car disappear in the distance.

“All right, let’s go,” I said, the numbness I felt inside reaching to my voice.

Ada didn’t speak as we drove back to my apartment. My head was screaming with questions, and if I wanted, I could’ve pried answers out of her through either desperate pleading or forceful insistence, but my usual determination to confront Ada had completely drained away today.

I flicked the radio to give my mind something else to latch onto. It worked for a little bit, until Casey McLean’s sweet soprano came through the speakers. It was Ada’s favorite song, the one I’d been determined to share with Nik at the music festival.

Ada’s bony fingers cupped over my hand, curling our fingers together. We hummed along while my heart stood between two places: with Ada and our battle against the pain that had woven into her aura, and the other with Nik as my newfound sorrow tainted the beautiful love we’d found.

NIK

Sports camps had already begun at the Collective, and there were kids of all ages running around and having the time of their lives. I was a bit jealous of their energy; I was dragging my ass around for the second day in a row from a night of stressful sleep.

But I came because Ada asked me to be here, and I wasn’t going to leave unless she wanted me to.

I found Duncan standing out the community garden, studying the new crop, as if somehow everything would grow if he willed it. The garden had grown a lot in the last six years. The first year I got clean I spent a lot of time in here, digging around in the dirt. It was like a helpful friend when I needed somewhere to go.

“Morning,” Duncan said, blinking over at me sleepily. He looked like he didn’t get a lot of rest either. “How long did you stay with Walt last night?”

I hung my arms over the fence and stared at the growing sunflowers. “Like, three hours. He complained about how bland the food was between crying about how he fucked everything up. By the time I left, he was asleep.”

Duncan hummed. “His sponsor’s been in touch with me. They’re talking about treatment plans. I told him that when the time comes, we’ll have a spot open for him.”

That was Duncan through and through. He always made space when people needed somewhere to go. He used to run himself into the ground doing that, but he learned over the years that if he didn’t take care of himself first, he’d be unable to be there for the people who needed it. Chance had a lot to do with that, and Duncan was a better boss and mentor because of it.

Micah could learn a thing or two about taking care of himself first.

I missed him. We hadn’t spoken to each other except through a couple awkward text messages. He was juggling a lot with Ada, and I knew he was stressed as fuck, but I still wanted to be there for him.

Duncan nudged me with his elbow. “I’m glad you came.”

“No problem,” I said, rubbing the toe of my shoe into the dirt. “Not entirely sure what I have to offer, but I’ll do my best.”

“I think Ada wanted someone she knew would be in her corner,” Duncan said, tilting his head toward me. “There’s a reason she called you.”

“You know, I’ve done hundreds of calls for Never Alone, and none of them made my blood pressure rise like that. But somewhere in the back of my head, I couldn’t get rid of the image of Micah finding out something bad happened . . .” I licked my lips, unable to finish.

“I know. Hopefully, she’s ready to make a change,” Duncan said, his voice soft. He nudged my arm and jerked his head toward the back entrance. “C’mon, it’s time to go inside.”

“Right,” I said, blowing out a long breath, and tried to ignore the knot in my throat as I followed him. Ada stood next to two people who must’ve been a part of the coordination team. She fidgeted as they spoke to her, from nerves or withdrawal, I wasn’t sure.

Probably both.

Micah rounded the corner, stood behind Ada, and rested his hand between her shoulders. Seeing him sent a burst of butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and I couldn’t decide what to do. A part of me wanted rush over and pull him in my arms, but I didn’t. This was about Ada.