Normally, waking up without Hallie in the house meant a fast-paced morning. One free of the distractions brought on by my well-meaning best friend. That was not the case on this particular Monday. In fact, Hallie being absent this morning was the exact opposite. The extra help would have been appreciated, with being limited to one foot.

I was now on an Ollie-type sleep schedule—in that I got little to no sleep. Between feeling like possibly the worst widowed wife ever, the pain radiating from my foot, and the way Ollie had left, it was a given. I would cry, forget which particular portion of the night I was crying about, and start the process all over again. It felt like I had just drifted to sleep when the alarm began blaring. That's when I realized I was lacking a way to my car. And even if I could get to it, I couldn't drive. There was no way this injury was going to allow me to apply pressure to the pedal.

After checking my phone a millionth time to verify Ollie had not responded to my text last night—one pleading for him to come back and sleep on the couch—, I used Uber to get a ride. The next obstacle was the shower. That's where Hallie's CNA knowledge and help were needed. Twice I almost landed on my ass while trying to keep my foot dry. Thankfully, Hulk was there—in all his limp glory—to act as a gripping device. I hadn't ever used the damn thing, but was now thankful he was there for me in a few moments of need. Who needed handrails when you had suction cup dildos?

I dressed fast and casual, not verifying anything matched. The duplex stairs were taken one at a time by use of my ass. I didn't have time to eat, but Hallie had it covered. The snacks meant for my finals were still sitting on top of my backpack and would be woofed down on the Uber ride to Chicago. That drive would also provide time to message Ollie again.

My stomach was in knots, with a million different issues plaguing my mind during the drive to school. Maybe I should have been worried about how I'd be missing thirty percent of my grades because of missing every test. Perhaps I should have been worried about how I was supposed to work tonight when I couldn't manage a shower. That was not the case, though. All I could focus on was the argument I'd had the night prior. Ollie hadn't responded to the second text either. My eyes were already feeling the pressure of impending tears. It was my fault for not explaining the bed situation to him, but he seemed to know about it being Steve's. Hallie must have been the one to tell him. Had Ollie been testing me to gauge my reaction? Last night, Ollie had admitted something I never knew bugged him. He felt like he was competing with Steve.

The thought made me sick, and I wasn't sure if that was because it was the truth, or because it wasn't. I didn't seem to know, and that made me more nauseated.

The ride had left me with only minutes to spare before Ollie was going to have to count me as late, sinking my grades even further. I could live with the grade. Having to pretend that the man in front of the class hadn't basically broken up with me the night before, leaving me to cry all night, was going to be the real feat of the day. The least he could do was answer a text saying he hadn't nodded off and crashed somewhere in the middle of the night. We may have made jokes about it in the past, but now was not the time to be messing with me like this. My foot hurt; my heart hurt, and now he was making my head hurt.

Maneuvering my way through a hallway of people, while trying not to land one of my crutches unknowingly onto someone's foot, I made my way to the knife safety classroom while trying to come up with a way to get Ollie to speak to me about last night. It wasn't a conversation to be had here at school, and he worked tonight. The longer we went without speaking, the worse this was becoming—and it had only been a few hours since he'd stormed out. It was now eight in the morning. All students in the hallway were finding their rooms, and doors were closing behind them. All except for one door.

My classmates were surrounding the entrance to Ollie's classroom, where a paper was hanging on a closed door. One by one, students approached, read, and walked away from the door without entering. Many began walking towards a nearby seating area while I awaited my turn, knowing that whatever was hanging there would not be good.

All knife safety courses canceled.

Final exam grades have been posted.

"Seems we no longer have an instructor," Ava said, leaning her shoulder into the door.

"Why?" I demanded in a tone that caught not just Ava's immediate widened gaze, but also that of everyone else within a fifteen-foot radius of the hallway. My blood was on fire. "Because you saw my boss carry my ass after stepping on a shard of glass? Where is he?"

"I know more than you think," Ava said beneath her breath, eyeing those around us with a glare, telling them to mind their own business. She stepped closer to me to keep the conversation between us. "I've had my suspicions about you two for months. Do I know you've slept with him? No. But it's easy to come to that conclusion after watching him go from degrading you one day to handing out free grades the next. All you did was confirm it last night with the look of horror on both of your faces when seeing me."

"What free grades?" I countered, utterly confused. It was probably not the first response I should have used, and we both knew it. It would have been smart to deny the fact I was sleeping with our teacher. "I don't screw people for grades!"

"Then how do you have a grade for the lab you stormed out of?"

The blood that had been hot in my face just a few short seconds ago was now draining and leaving me ghost-white. Ollie gave me a grade for something he shouldn't have. Were we sleeping together? Yes. That's not what got me the grade, though. Him being my boss sure did. Ollie was fired because of me, after he'd spent the night with me in an ER just to be denied a place to sleep. No wonder he wasn't answering any of his texts.

"Chef Oliver is a dick, Sloan. You know he is. He only changed once your legs opened for him. I did you both a favor."

A favor?

"You know nothing about Ollie." I swallowed down the sob that was trying to escape with my tears. It was a good thing I had crutches, because wobbly knees felt ready to give out beneath me. Those crutches and my one good foot were already taking me towards the dean's office with my back to the girl who just solidified the end of my relationship with Oliver Mulligan. "And I don't need favors from someone who can't slice a goddamn onion without thinking she's dying, twat!"

>>

The kitchen table was filled with open notebooks and post-its. The pizza pizzazz was spinning, causing a slight buzzing to be the only background noise throughout the duplex. It was a frozen pizza that had been long ago forgotten. It had been ready for at least an hour and was spinning without heat. There was also an open bottle of cheap wine that hadn't been sipped from and an unread textbook on my lap. One foot was propped up on a chair and was currently being iced, while the other was firmly on the floor where I was staring with blurred vision at my pink toenails.

Six messages to Ollie, and not one had been answered. Three were texts. Three were calls that went directly to voicemail. Taking the hint, I knew I wasn't going anywhere near Mulligan's tonight. I called the kitchen, blaming my injury for skipping out on a shift. Not even pleading with the dean of the school could get Ollie's job back. My only option was to retake all the knife safety exams over again—which was fine; I could ace them in my sleep. The dean kept reminding me I was lucky to not be expelled, but I didn't feel very lucky.

A deep sigh announced the arrival home of my best friend. I hadn't heard the front door open and close. Hallie's keys hit the table after a toss, and the blonde took the strap of her purse from over her head to toss along with it. Arms crossed over her purple scrubs. I couldn't bring myself to look up.

"What happened to your foot?" Hallie asked with little enthusiasm.

"Stepped on glass at the restaurant. It's fine."

"If it's fine, then why are you crying again?" I couldn't get an answer out, and Hallie already looked like she'd heard enough. "And before you tell me Steve, again, you need to realize that this has got to stop. I can't take it anymore, Sloan. I can't. I'm tired. Today, I don't have it in me to baby you. I worked two shifts, was pissed on twice, and lost one of my favorite residents last night. I'm exhausted."

My shoulders shook with the unleashing of tears. This was now two days in a row by my two favorite people that I'd been told this. I had exhausted them to the point of being done with me. And that wasn't even why I was crying right now.

"I'm sorry about your resident. I just... I messed up with Ollie." My head shook, not knowing if Hallie wanted to hear it. "He was fired, and he won't answer my texts or calls. And that was after I practically kicked him out of here last night for wanting to sleep in my bed. I couldn't let him, Hal. It's..."

"Steve's." Hallie sighed again and dropped herself into an open chair. "This is exactly what I mean. That bed is nothing more than an object, Sloan. You're too attached to it, and all it does is make you cry. So, why is Ollie ignoring you? Is it because of the bed, or is it because of the job? Because I have a pretty good guess. Ollie obviously thought you were worth risking the job."

Hallie's guess was right. I was certain the reason Ollie wasn't answering was because of last night. Ollie risked a job he loved for me, and I couldn't even let him into my bed for a night. In the back of his mind, he felt threatened by Steve. Likely the same way that sometimes I felt threatened by Shelby. I made that feeling for him so much worse. It didn't change the fact it was Steve's bed, though, and it seemed cruel to the memory of the man I lost only a year ago.

"Tell me the truth." Hallie pushed my notes out of the way so she could drop two elbows to the table. "Are you in love with Ollie?"

"That's not a simple question..."

"Yes, it is. Do you love Ollie?"

"Steve..."

"I didn't ask about Steve!" she said, unable to keep her temper at bay. "Christ, I can't get a straight answer out of either of you. You both go right back to Steve—who has absolutely nothing to do with this. There is you, and there is Ollie."

I sniffled. Steve had nothing and everything to do with this.

"I am your best friend," Hallie said, reminding me with lips curled downwards. "You can tell me absolutely anything, and I will never judge you. I am going to ask you a question, and I don't want you to get mad at me. Just let me get it out. Okay?"

My mouth joined the shape of Hallie's. "Okay."

"Okay." Hallie's head bobbed, liking we were getting somewhere. "If Steve had never gotten sick..." She eyed me carefully for a reaction. Other than my insides churning at where this question was heading, I remained blank. "And you had met Ollie while out during a night of celebrating getting into your dream school..."

There was no need to finish the question. We both knew the end. I wouldn't have been dating Steve. I would have been single. We'd celebrate at a restaurant that was on everyone's radar for the food. I would insult the fries by adding a horrendous amount of salt in front of the restaurant's chef. We'd laugh, we'd drink, we'd end up in his bed. The me before Steve probably would have wanted another round the next morning instead of trying to escape for an impending panic attack. Or maybe we wouldn't have gone to that restaurant, and I would have met him as a teacher. There were a lot of what ifs. But Hallie's question would just be reworded to get the answer that she already knew. If I had been single, and I'd met Ollie in whatever situation and liked him, what would my answer have been without Steve as a factor?

Another flood of tears erupted. I loved Steve so much, and that would never change. But it also didn't change how I felt about someone else.

"I love Ollie," I admitted, shielding my face and sobbing freely into my hands. "I messed up, and I deserve it for being a really shitty wife. It's only been a year since Steve. I shouldn't love Ollie this much."

The chair squeaked across the floor as Hallie stood. I couldn't stop hyperventilating into my hands and was unaware of Hallie leaving the room. It wasn't until I heard a drawer slamming shut upstairs and Hallie's feet shuffling back to the kitchen that I could bring myself to take a breath. When my best friend reappeared in the kitchen, I noticed there was now an envelope in Hallie's grip.

"I think it's time you go talk to Steve."

My eyes rolled hard, and I wiped my cheeks free of the mess I'd made. If Hallie told me that one more time...

"It helped me a lot when I finally had the nerve to open mine."

"Open your what?" I groaned. The thought of speaking to a rock seemed ridiculous. "I don't want to talk to Steve. He's gone! He's not there! He will not talk back!"

Hallie held out the envelope with a shaky hand. My heart leapt instantly at the sight of my name scribbled in Steve's handwriting. "Your letter was in mine and gave me very special instructions on when to give it to you. You might not be ready to talk to him, but he's ready to talk to you. I think you should listen to what he has to say."

>>

Frozen grass crunched beneath my feet and crutches as I approached the one spot in Chicago I'd been avoiding for the past year. The last time I was here was practically a blur. I vaguely remembered clutching a box that held the ashes of my husband for dear life until forced to place it in his last resting place. There was no marker at that time. With what little credit I had left in my name, I purchased him a stone. It was the smallest one they had, just big enough for his name and two dates with a dash between them. His entire life was now defined by that one little dash. Every birthday, every day of school and work, every kiss, every time we'd made love... a dash. It practically killed me to write it on the order form. Seeing it on a stone would make it final.

I recalled roughly the area where he was buried. I had to brush the snow off a few stones before my mittens finally dusted away the loose snowflakes to reveal my husband's name. It was just another step in the harsh realization that he was really gone—which, of course, resulted in my cold cheeks being covered in tears. Now, it felt silly to stand in front of a rock and speak to it. How did one even start? Was I supposed to speak out loud? Was this conversation supposed to happen in my head? Maybe Hallie found this to be therapeutic, but it was giving me a serious case of anxiety.

With a deep breath, I removed the letter from my coat pocket and unfolded it. Another letter fell from it—this one with a simple T.J. scribbled on it. Steve's horrible handwriting made me giggle. For the first time in a long time, I felt close to him. T.J.'s letter was tucked into my pocket for another time. Gazing around the empty cemetery before finally planting my ass in wet snow, I made myself more comfortable. Steve wanted to talk, and I needed to listen.

"Hi." My hand landed on the rock again in a whisper, with the open letter in my opposite hand. "I'm here."

"My Dearest Sloan,

Hello, beautiful.

It's almost midnight, and you're sleeping right beside me within the hold of my free arm and hogging all of our covers. You just finished cleaning up after making a spicy carbonara, I knew would be incredible. I'm laughing that a little of the sauce is still caught in your hair, and sad because tonight was one of the last times I'm going to see that twinkle in your eye when you nail a recipe you've been working on. Even worse, this is one of the last times I'm going to hold you as you sleep.

We have run out of time, baby. Tonight, I had Hallie call our hospice nurse as you cooked. I couldn't bear to tell you that my appetite has ceased, and that pain has taken over not only my body but my thoughts. The time you spend in our kitchen is when I see you happy, and I couldn't take that away from you tonight.

I want to start off by thanking you for making my last year of this brief life the best one I have ever had. You were the blessing that I always knew I wanted but never felt I deserved. You were my rock from the first day we met and even through the diagnosis we never saw coming. Love was something I always had for you, but I never knew I could love you as much as I do right now. I never want you to think that I married you for the wrong reason. I married you for love. It just blossomed into more than anything I could have dreamed of. Although, I will not lie; your insurance was a sweet perk.

I hope that insurance bit made you laugh, because we both know you're crying right now. And that's okay, because I am too.

If you're reading this, it means the inevitable has happened. You, my angel, have fallen in love again. Perhaps it's been weeks, months, years... but someone has made you happy again, and thank God for that.

You're having a hard time with this—I know, because I know you better than anyone. You may not believe me, but I am so beyond ecstatic for you. My worst fear with all of this is that I somehow broke you. That you will close yourself off from others and never open up to anyone the way you did me. I know how hard you love, and how deeply you care for those around you. I don't want my death to change you, even though I know it will. You are going to feel guilty for loving him, and you should not. You're never going to feel that now (whenever that may be) is the right time to move on, and it is, or else you wouldn't have this paper in your hands.

You never needed my permission, Sloan. But if that's what you needed out of this letter, you have it. I would never think less of you for finding joy again after me. And Hallie must believe that this is "the" guy. I gave her pretty strict instructions on how to know he's the one. He better be encouraging you to be your best. As you nail those recipes, he should grin from ear to ear. He better make you laugh until you cry. And on days those tears aren't from laughing, he better be holding you as tightly as I am right now.

Thank you for allowing me a little piece of your beautiful heart. Now go show this guy how much love you really have for him when you aren't holding back because of me. Be the person for him I need him to be for you. Be the person you were for me.

All my love,

Steve"