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Ash rolled onto his side. Slowly, I brought my arm up to hold him, relieved when he allowed me to draw him closer. I wrapped his shivering form in the comforter and held him as tightly as I dared. No words were spoken. Even if I had the balls to ask, I knew he wouldn’t tell me what he’d dreamed about. He never did. Instead he wrapped his arms around himself and hid his face in the crook of my shoulder. I wanted to cry. I felt like he could climb inside me and he still wouldn’t be close enough for me to help him feel better.

We lay awake for a long time, but when dawn finally came, I opened my eyes to find he was gone, leaving nothing but a rumpled sheet to show he’d ever been there at all.

M
ICK
groaned and tossed his empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can. “This isn’t right. We’ve been here so long I’m about to sprout roots.”

I glared at him, though he was right. Not about his botanical mutation, obviously, but about the length of time we’d been parked at the foot of the building, waiting for some crazy dude to decide if he wanted to jump or not. The long-assed wait had left me feeling decidedly cranky too. Years of waiting on would-be suicides had erased any sympathy I’d ever had. In my experience, those that needed to think about it—with an audience—didn’t want to die, they just wanted help. Mick said I had a way with the crazies—and it was true, I’d talked my fair share of jumpers down—but the dude sitting on the ledge, methed up in his underwear, was past all reason. We just had to wait him out, and
that
pissed me off.

After a few hours, Mick and I ran out of things to talk about. We watched the police come and go, changing it up every hour or so, but no one came to relieve us. There’d been a stampede at a discount store a few blocks away, and all our other buses were tied up there. I sighed and drained my coffee cup. Even psychotic sale shoppers would be better than waiting around. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, hoping to see Ash’s name on the screen. My despondency grew when I saw it was a message from another crew from our stationhouse.

Fifty bucks says you’ll still be there by morning, suckers.

Bastards, but they were right. If no one could get over to relieve us, we were stuck until the stupid fucker made up his mind.

Mick wasn’t amused by the message. I wandered around to the back of the bus to escape his cursing. The doors were open, so I sat down on the steps and leaned back on my hands to stare at the sky. The clouds were beginning to darken as the afternoon slipped away. The sun had been out when we’d begun the ridiculous standoff, but as the day had worn on, the temperature had dropped sharply. It wouldn’t be long until we were freezing our balls off too.

I rubbed my hands together and blew on them. The action reminded me that Ash had borrowed my gloves. I hadn’t seen him to ask for them back. He’d been avoiding me for the past few weeks. I’d only seen him asleep in bed, or glued to his sketchbook and dishing out monosyllabic grunts to any effort I made to communicate. After a while, it had become easier just to let him have his way. I was too tired and pissed off to argue with him.

My cell phone vibrated again. I reached for it absently, expecting more ribbing from the other crews. It was funny how they were completely tied up at another incident, but still had time to yank my chain. I frowned when I saw the area code for my mom’s neighborhood. “Hello?”

“Pietro?”

“Mom? What’s the matter?”

“I’ve locked myself out, honey. I came outside to water your father’s rosemary bush, and the door just blew shut behind me. It’s been ever so windy here today. Has it been windy where you are? I hope you’re not spending too….”

I had to cut her off before she ran out of money. “Where are you?”

“At the phone booth on the corner. I knocked on Mrs. Carter’s door, but I think she’s gone away to see her daughter. You know, the one with the twin girls?”

“Maggie! Stop. Just go home and sit on the doorstep, okay? It’s going to be dark soon. I don’t want you walking around on your own. Just sit tight, and I’ll get Ash to come let you in, okay? Have you got a coat on?”

“Can’t you come, sweetie? I don’t want to bother Ash. He looked so tired when I saw him last week. Is he sleeping—”

I gritted my teeth, irritated. She wasn’t making any sense. We hadn’t been over to her place for almost a month. “Maggie, I’m working. Have you got a coat?”

Apparently, she didn’t. She was walking the streets with just her apron over her clothes. I repeated my instructions for her to go home and wait, but we were cut off before I could check she’d understood.

Worried, I pressed my speed dial for Ash and drummed my fingers against the back of my cell while I waited for him to pick up. It was starting to get really cold, and even if he left as soon as I told him, it would take him more than an hour to get to her. My mom living so far away was the only reason I ever wanted a car. She scared the crap out of me when she pulled her crazy shit. I saw too many little old ladies frozen to death hanging their laundry out in their nightgowns.

Ash’s phone rang until it went to his voice mail. I left a message and called him again. Then I tried the apartment phone again and again and again.

Each time I got nothing. Frustrated, my numb fingers tapped out a message.
Maggie’s locked out. Need you to go let her in. P.

I waited a few minutes, hoping he’d call back, but he didn’t. Mick appeared, and sensing a problem, he called the shop, but he had no luck either. Just as I’d thought, Ash was off, and he should have been home.

It was no good. I had no choice but to call another paramedic to come in and cover me, and even then, I had to wait for him to get to us. The whole time I was waiting, I kept calling Ash, but he still didn’t answer his phone.

I was fucking seething by the time I dashed across the street to the L. Seething and confused. There was no doubt in my mind he was deliberately ignoring me. He hated talking on the phone—he rarely called anyone except me or Ellie, but he always answered when I called, and the phone in the apartment was right by the door to his studio. He never touched the stereo or the archaic vacuum cleaner, so there was no way he wouldn’t have heard it.

It was dark by the time I got to my mom, and she was cold to the bone. I let her in and got some coffee down for her before I had to leave her with one of her neighbors. I didn’t have time to stick around—I had to go back home and sort myself out for the night shift I had to cover for the guy I’d dragged in early.

I made another dash across the city back to the apartment. My key stuck in the lock. I shoved at the door hard, still fuming, and forced it open with the toe of my boot. Once inside, I flew through the apartment looking for Ash, but I stopped short when I spotted him lying on the couch. On the floor beside him, his cell phone flashed and beeped with all the calls and messages he’d missed. There was no way he hadn’t heard it, no fucking way.

Furious, I kicked at his legs. “Get up.”

Nothing happened. Ash shifted and let out a breath that for some reason, sounded off, but he didn’t wake up. I was about to kick him again when something stopped me.

I froze with my leg poised, ready to strike.

He’s high….

No….

He can’t be….

Fuck.

Slowly, I lowered my foot and leaned over him. I found the pulse on his wrist with my fingers while I tracked the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Over and over, I counted his heartbeat, but each time, I heard the same thing. His pulse was slow—too slow. It was depressed—
sedated
—and his skin felt unnaturally cold.

Bile rose in my throat. I dropped his hand like I’d been burned and stumbled backward. I sank down onto the coffee table and put my head in my hands, trying to reconcile what I was seeing. It couldn’t be happening. I had to be wrong, but each time I looked, I saw the same thing. Something I saw nearly every day of my life, but I’d never, ever thought I’d see in my own damn home.

How did I not see this?

Ash had a long history of drug abuse. On the streets, he’d used drugs for years. Heroin, mainly, but just about anything he could get his hands on. It wasn’t every day, or even every week, but it bad was enough for Ellie to put him through rehab back in Philly: enough for him to agonize over popping a simple Tylenol. I thought back over the past few weeks and months. Mood swings, shaking hands, the lack of focus in his eyes. My heart fell through the floor as I realized it was all there. I dealt with addicts every day, and seeing him strung out in front of me, the cause of his erratic behavior was suddenly painfully obvious. How had I not
seen
it?

Ash coughed. It was a pathetic sound, not really a cough at all, but it was enough to break through my shock. I scrambled to my feet. Suddenly, the anger was back, hotter and more vicious than it had been before. I bent over, grasped his shoulders, and shook him hard, really hard: the way I shook half-dead crack fiends on the street. He had to wake up—he
had
to—but he didn’t respond. I shook him again and again until he finally began to come round.

He knew it was me before he even opened his eyes; he even reached out for me. For some reason, it made me madder. The real fear that he’d overdosed was fading fast, but I still felt like I could kill him myself.

Ash opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. “Pete? What… are you doing?”

I let him go, ignoring the relief rushing through me. “Me? What the fuck are
you
doing?”

He blinked again, slower this time, his eyes dazed and vacant. He raised his head and looked around him. “I was asleep,” he said uncertainly, his voice hoarse and gritty.

Fury boiled in my veins. “Asleep? Is that what you call it? Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“What?”

I leaned over him again and put my face just inches from his. “Do you think I don’t know a junkie when I see one?”

He leaned away from me. Even high, he didn’t like people up in his face. “A junkie? Why would you think that?”

“You’re high as hell. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“High?”

He struggled to keep his eyes open as he echoed me. It hurt to see him so confused, but it wasn’t enough to restrain me. I crouched down in front of him and gripped his chin hard with my hand. He could take a swing at me if he wanted to. I was angry enough to retaliate. “
Look
at me.”

“I am.”

“Properly.”

Finally, he held my gaze, and I saw all I needed to see. I shoved him away and stood up. Suddenly, the fight left me and I felt nothing but exhaustion. “What is it?” I said flatly. “Heroin?”

He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, utterly silent. I closed my eyes as something I didn’t want to think about occurred to me. “Needles, Ash? Are you trying to kill me too?”

“What?”

I grabbed him again, pushing his sleeves up. I saw no new marks, but it wasn’t enough to quell my anger. “Don’t,” I said, turning on him again before he could even utter a denial. “I’m going to work. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” I glanced at his phone as I stepped away from him. “If you’re wondering how you got caught, check your fucking phone.”

I walked away from him without a backward glance and went back to work to robotically stumble through the night. It was dawn when I finally returned home, but I knew without looking that he wasn’t there. I stood alone in our bedroom as anger flowed through me. I loved him with everything I had, but in the cold light of the early morning, any trust between us had been completely destroyed.

N
EARLY
a month went by and nothing changed. Ash didn’t come back, and I didn’t go looking for him. What was the point? He’d put my mom at risk, and as far as I was concerned, there was no greater sin. I’d never judged him for his history of drug abuse, and I wasn’t naïve. I knew addiction well enough to know it wasn’t something that ever truly went away, but I was mad, really fucking mad, and for a while, I found it hard to see anything other than cold, resentful fury.

Didn’t make his absence any easier to take, though. In the beginning, I was too angry to think straight, but as the weeks went by, it became harder and harder to reach out to him. Harder to undo the clusterfuck he’d left behind. I didn’t even call him, much less venture over to Ellie’s to talk to him. I couldn’t. I was too worried I’d take one look at him and deck him. I loved him to death, but he’d put Maggie at risk… literally left her out in the cold.

I could forgive just about anything, but not that.

Instead, I worked as much as I could, staying late, covering shifts, and volunteering to take last-minute calls. It was relentless, but I needed it. I needed the distraction or I’d lose my mind.

One night, three weeks after Ash left, Mick glared at me over our latest frequent-flying drunk like I already had. “Pete, it’s a graze. St. Mark’s is closed to nonemergencies. If we take him to County, we’ll be there all night.”

I ignored him and loaded the guy anyway. So what if I spent eight hours waiting for the hospital to admit my patient? I didn’t care about the time. The less I spent in an empty apartment, the better. Mick called me an asshole and stomped to the front of the bus, but even when he slammed the door, I didn’t care about that either.

Mick drove us to the hospital. Three hours later, we were still there. “I fucking told you,” he said. He banged the back of his head against the wall. “I’ve got better things to do than this.”

I closed my eyes. His irritation was grating against my tired brain. “Go home, then.”

His footsteps were harsh as he stormed away, but I knew he wouldn’t go far. He couldn’t just leave, however pissed he was. Neither of us could until the damn old drunk guy got a bed. I sighed and opened my eyes. Mick had a point. I
was
being an asshole, and I had been ever since Ash left. Something had to give. Since it didn’t look like Ash was coming back, I knew it had to be me.