“What happened to Adam?” Hope asked.
Charlie tapped her nails on the table. “He turned out to be a dick.”
Hope made a noncommittal noise.
“Don’t be all, ‘hmmm, that’s interesting,’” Charlotte said. “I know you guys hated him.”
Hope tried to keep a straight face. Luke wasn’t even able to say his name most days, referring to Adam only as “that arrogant little prick.”
“But you were both right.” Charlie put her chin in her hands. “Did you ever date an asshole?”
Hope made a face. “Almost married one.”
Charlie perked up, looking intrigued, but Hope tilted her head toward the boy. “So, is he a prospect?”
“He’s smart. He’s different from the boys at my school.” She grinned. “But don’t tell my dad. He’ll get totally triggered.”
“Look, Charlie, you’re the most important person in the world to him,” Hope said. “Which means no one will ever be good enough for you. But it also makes you lucky to be so loved.”
“I know.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I’m so tired of the Adams of the world.”
“Me too.” Hope nodded. “But there are good guys out there, too. They just aren’t as easy to spot. Trust me, the good ones are worth it.”
“And that’s my dad? One of the good ones?” Charlie wrinkled her nose, still too cool for feelings, though her eyes looked wistful.
Hope smiled. “I’m certain of it.”
ONE YEAR LATER
1 | Don’t Look Back
HOPE
The Wilder Sanctuary
Rancho Mirage, California
“And how are the nightmares?”
“Fine.” Hope shifted, pushing stringy hair from her face with her palms. “I haven’t had any this week.”
“None at all?”
Hope shook her head slowly, face impassive.
Dr. Stark looked impressed with his own abilities, as if he’d performed a special magic trick to protect Hope from herself. Perhaps in a way he had. “That’s important progress.”
Dr. Stark jotted notes on his tablet with a pointy gray stylus. “Are you sleeping any better?”
“A little. An hour or two at a time.” It was a lie. She hadn’t slept at all.
The sun rose high out the picture window, San Jacinto Mountains ascending against the endless blue. Desert sky. It was hard to think about the dark right now, with so much light around her. “Does that mean I’m getting better?”
“As we’ve discussed, it’s important you get concentrated stretches of sleep.” Dr. Stark flipped his tablet to expose the keyboard, typing with a renewed purpose. “It will help you make progress in the Labyrinth.”
The word Labyrinth filled Hope with a viscous dread. She knew she’d visited it dozens of times since arriving at Wilder, though never remembered what happened there. “I told you I’m never going back.”
“You did,” Dr. Stark said. “But as I said, it’s important to try and push through. It helps with confronting what you’re avoiding.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Hope said. Another lie.
“I’m increasing your temazepam to thirty milligrams,” Dr. Stark said. “And tomorrow evening, I’d like you to spend some time with Victor. Say, forty-five minutes?”
Hope glanced at the ceiling. She wanted a cigarette in the worst way.
“Great,” he said. “Check in with the pharmacy after our session.”
Stark was doing the casual Friday thing today, though Hope remained uncertain if today was, in fact, Friday. He resembled a prep school student, with his shiny polo shirt and immaculately pressed chinos. The polo looked brand new, still creased in the sleeves and too white, almost blinding. Hope couldn’t picture Dr. Stark performing the tasks of mere mortals: changing the toilet paper, taking out the garbage, shopping for polo shirts. Maybe his wife did all that. Maybe she bought five polo shirts in different colors from Neiman Marcus, hanging them in an orderly row, next to his dry-cleaned Italian suits in clear plastic bags.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Dr. Stark asked, still typing, fingers thin and bare.
“Are you married?”
“Divorced,” he said. “More thoughts about last year, perhaps?”
