Some people believed a new month was the perfect excuse for new beginnings and focus. And by the looks of it, my mother was part of that group. Sandra Leighton was a conniving, blindsiding, and double-crossing backstabber.

If I didn't love her so much, I would contemplate running from this parked car and never stepping foot in our house again.

September had come to an end and the October air blew in the winds of change. Changes I had no part in.

I glanced at my mum's reflection in the rear-view mirror and my anger dissolved. She bit the inside of her mouth as worry clouded her features, softening the sharpness in her aqua eyes. Letting out a loud sigh, I rested my forehead on the seat in front of me.

"It's just for a couple of hours, Beatrice. Dr Westcott reassured me you wouldn't need to share your story if you didn't feel comfortable."

Dr Westcott, my doctor, the one my parents paid large sums of money to so he could fix me. Not that they would say that, but I knew why he had practically become part of our family unit. Every decision or worry my mother had passed through that man. Of course, this would involve him.

"I don't need it, Mum. We've been over this." My voice sounded harsher and louder than I intended.

Mum cursed under her breath and hit the steering wheel. "No, we haven't. Not really."

"I've been better," I mumbled into myself.

"You flinch when I say your name, you can't sit next to me in the car and you're not sleeping." She looked towards the Victorian townhouse, the building's actual purpose hidden amongst the properties surrounding it. "The nightmares are back," she added, her tone weak, almost defeated as she slumped forward.

My head snapped up. "How do you know?" The ringing picked up in my ears. That was the last thing I wanted her to discover.

"Do you think I can't hear you crying out every night in panic? Have you considered how that makes me feel? Hearing my baby screaming for her friend and there is nothing I can do to help? Well, this is me doing something to help you." Her words cracked and her shoulders heaved as she let her sobs go.

I reached over and wrapped my arms around her; the seat blocking me from getting too close. "I'm sorry."

She hugged back, gripping my hands in hers. "Try today at least. Please."

The grim skies cast their shadows over the doorway to the therapy centre, leaving it as desolate as my internal thoughts. I scanned the trees and the path ahead for any signs of colour and hope but was left with a heaviness in my chest. Slipping my hands out of my mother's grasp, I placed them at the base of my throat, hoping to quell the rising acid.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. Just today."

***

My thin jacket barely shielded the cool October air from seeping under my skin. Goosebumps ran up my arms to my nape as I closed the car door. I pulled the flimsy material tighter around myself and walked to the ominous entryway. Running my fingers over the coarse brickwork, I delayed pressing the intercom button. The shrill of the buzzer jolted my shoulders back a fraction.

"Sorrel Terrace. How may I help you?" The spirited voice behind the intercom contrasted with the decor.

"Err." I turned towards my mother who was still sat there, peering over her steering wheel. I could do this. "I have an appointment at three, the bereavement group. Beatrice Leighton?" My mouth turned dry and numbness infused my body as I gave my name.

"First floor, on your left. You can't miss it."

The telltale sound of the door unlocking resonated on the porch and I pushed against the ageing wood.

Avoiding the lifted edge of the hallway rug, I made my way to the bare dark stairs. The stain in the middle of each step was three shades lighter than the sides due to the missing carpet. My footsteps mixed with the creaking of the boards echoed around and I wondered if I was the only person in the building.

The solitary door on my left held a notice for the group. The brass handle felt cold against the skin of my palm. My breathing heavy, I entered the room.

My nerves doubled the moment I walked in and I struggled to focus on the people sitting in a circle. Evading eye contact, I took the first empty seat.

Gradual rays of sunlight streamed through the thick glass, having discovered a break in the clouds. The yellow glow danced at my feet, rhythmically interrupted by the branches of the tree swaying in front of the window. The corner of my lips unintentionally raised as I finally found my spark of colour.

A woman in her mid to late forties burst in, a clipboard under her arm, her glasses propped on her head like a hairband. "I am so sorry." She slid her glasses to her nose and checked her watch. "Oh, only five minutes late. A record for me," she laughed and dropped onto a chair opposite me. "A new face. Wonderful! Shall we start with some introductions, then we will check in with our progress?"

As my eyes followed her walking through the circle, I caught the profile of a familiar-looking face. My heart rate picked up as I processed his presence in my group therapy session. His body was twisted round to the woman who was now introducing herself as Helen Levant, our counsellor, but his gaze flashed to mine every other minute.

What was he doing here? Was I in the wrong place? Was he? I gripped the side of my chair as I turned each question in my mind.

Matt finally faced me and shoved his hands through his messy yet somehow styled hair. "You okay?" he mouthed, his amber eyes confident but the jitter of his knee telling me otherwise.

I shrugged and glanced at the tree, dancing in the breeze outside. I would do anything to feel the bite of that wind instead of the suffocating air inside. Matt's gaze, unlike the tree, was not wavering. I felt the intensity of it on my face. "What are you doing here?" I mouthed back.

He narrowed his eyes and pointed to his ear. "Can't hear you. After."

Helen Levant made everyone introduce themselves but never pushed them to reveal why they were here. She left that decision in our hands. Some had been attending the groups for a few weeks and others were on their second or third round following a break.

My focus was on the twists and knots in my stomach and the man who had yet to stop staring my way. I hadn't taken in anything these people were saying while I waited for my turn to speak.

Oh God, my turn!

I lifted my hand in a weak wave and attempted a smile that wouldn't leave me looking constipated. I hated everything about this. "Hey-, hi, mmm." Great start. "I'm Trixie. Well, Beatrice. My mum signed me up as Beatrice, but I prefer Trixie." I lowered my head and concentrated on the sunlight at my feet as I thought of what I would say next.

"Welcome, Trixie. Are you happy sharing why you are here today? If not, maybe you have something else to share with us?" Helen Levant pushed her glasses further up her nose and scribbled in her notepad.

Matt moved forward in his chair, his hands resting palms up on his knees. When he was certain my attention was on him, he subtly nodded as encouragement.

"Yeah, sure. I'm here because my mum and doctor thought it would be a good idea." The skin around my nail bled from my repetitive picking. "I lost my best friend last year. The anniversary of her death is actually coming up soon." The old pain of those words gripped my chest.

"Thank you for sharing, Trixie. Anniversaries can be harder than other days. We need to remember they are not setbacks but a reminder of how important that person was in our life. Anniversary reactions are normal and there are a few steps to cope with reawakened grief."

Reawakened grief would have implied it had laid dormant, at least for a bit. I wished mine had slept for a while. I hadn't had a break from it since the accident.

Helen reeling off each step, addressed the group.

One: be prepared. What was I preparing for? I didn't know when my grief was going to hit because it never left in the first place. I just made them all believe it had.

Two: plan a distraction. Wasn't I doing that by drowning myself in different bodies and alcohol? A lot of good that was. I struggled to keep myself above the water. Each distraction tugged on my legs until my body was submerged, squeezing all the air out of my lungs.

Three: reminisce about your relationship. I glanced back at Matt. He had helped me with that step, but could I let myself rely on him again. I shook my head, silently answering my own question.

My sliver of sunlight retreated out the window as a heavy blanket of grey covered over the sky.

I listened to all her tactics, but each word blended together and I kept glancing at the clock above the door. Had time stilled? The rest of the group introduced themselves until they reached Matt. I halted my knee from bouncing and leaned forward.

Matt's jaw clenched before he spoke. "Matt Quinn. Over the last year, I've attended these groups on three different occasions. Fell into a few old habits so knew I should pay Helen a visit." He smiled as he focused on the counsellor, avoiding my gaze for a moment.

"Matt, welcome back. How were the exercises going? Any help at all?" She tapped her pen against the edge of the board and I found the noise distracting when all I desired was to pull Matt out of the room to ask my own questions.

"They were helping until recently."

"Are you remembering to set boundaries?" She read through some notes. "I'm assuming you're continuing your hiatus from romantic relationships?"

Matt's eyes found mine again. Those pools of whiskey once offered promises of sinful indulgence but now admitted he had nothing to back them up. Maybe we were both as fucked up as each other and that was the reason we were drawn to one another.

He scratched the back of his neck. "The lines have been blurry lately. But yes, no relationships." I heard the hesitation in his words as his voice dropped and that only intrigued me more.

Matt shifted positions and showed all the signs of someone who needed to escape. I couldn't stop staring as I longed to find out why he was here and why he wouldn't have a relationship, not that it concerned me. If anything, I should have felt relieved at that piece of information, yet I couldn't deny the pinch in my stomach at his admission.

The next hour and a half dragged on and when Helen declared the end of the session, I let out a sigh of relief. Matt caught me and smirked as I walked over to grab a drink from a small refreshment table in the corner. He picked up a satchel at his feet and wandered over.

"I only come here for the coffee." He grabbed a paper cup and uncurled the edges. "Actually, it's shit. There's a place round the corner with some decent stuff. My treat," he whispered, his breath hitting the hollow below my ear.

"I can't. My mum's picking me up soon." I sipped the hot liquid and winced. "You're right, this is awful."

Matt pulled the strap of his bag further up his shoulder as he took a step back. "Call her. Work doesn't start for a few hours so I'll drop you home."

Helen roamed around the room, chatting to each person away from the group setting.

"If you stay, you'll get sucked into a one-on-one. Just one cup. We won't be long."

He didn't need to ask twice. I was desperate to talk to him on my own and the prospect of having Intrusive-Helen corner me was a good enough reason to leave as soon as possible.

"Okay, one cup won't hurt."

***

The smell of roasted coffee beans hit my nostrils as we strolled into the small café that doubled as a bookshop. Rows of books covered shelves scattered across red brick walls.

"Wow, this place is amazing." I removed my jacket and tucked it over the back of the chair Matt held out for me. "Can't believe I've never been here."

I scanned the tables, none of the chairs matched. Actually, everything in the coffee shop mismatched yet somehow worked in harmony. Suddenly, the name above the door made sense; Beautiful Chaos.

"Yeah. I spend hours here. Great for studying." Matt lifted his bag and patted the front of it to reinforce his words. He grinned when I gave him a puzzled look. "Not just a fashion statement. It's filled with coursework. Let me grab us some coffee and we'll chat."

He placed our orders while I scoured through some of the books on an end table, propped up against the wall. Crouching to get a closer peek, I traced the binding on the oldest-looking ones, imagining each person who would have held them and loved them at some stage.

"Those are charity books. You can take them for a donation." Matt rested his hand on my shoulder, heat spreading over my skin at his touch. I didn't know if he was absentmindedly running his thumb over my collarbone or it was deliberate.

"Haven't been able to read the last few months. They would be wasted on me." I rolled my shoulder back to suppress any unwelcome ideas from blossoming in my mind. His hand dropped, and I studied his expression. He looked unaffected by the contact, but there was a glint in his eyes telling me he might be attempting to disguise his actual feelings.

Our therapy session entered my thoughts and before I had time to mull over Helen's words, I laid all my questions out on the table. "What did Helen mean by your hiatus from romantic relationships? I know I've never been to a group meeting, but it seemed like an inappropriate question to ask in front of everyone. Didn't it bother you? Is she always that forward?"

"Wow, slow down with the interrogation." He swirled a spoon into his cappuccino. "Let me ask you a question back? Did it bother you? The no relationship rule." He bit the side of his mouth and stared into his cup.

I paused for a second and raised a brow. "No! Why would it? One time thing, remember."

"Yeah." Matt frowned. "It's nothing. I brought it up with the others before so it wasn't a secret. She didn't set it. I did. At least until I'm done with the groups."

"Makes sense. Why are you there then?" His face darkened, and I wanted to retract my words. "You don't have to tell me but maybe you'd like someone to talk to. You know, one fuck up to another."

Matt laughed and glanced up. "I'd like that. But can we skip that question, at least for now?"

I nodded, a slight smile on my lips, but my heart squeezed. I didn't think his lack of openness would bother me when we weren't friends or anything for that matter. But here I was, wishing he wanted to share everything with me. "Going back to the no relationship thing? Why did you ask to sleep with me again?"

"I knew it. You want me." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, stop it. I'm just curious. You are so confusing. Asking me to stay the first night, getting Zaire to bring me to yours so you can tell me we should go for round two. What were you after?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I set myself all these rules, and then I keep breaking them, anyway. But wanting to have sex again with you doesn't mean we have to have a relationship. People can sleep together more than once and stay casual."

"That's the biggest bullshit lie I've ever heard. Someone always comes out of those kinds of arrangements heartbroken or messed up. No thank you to that." I blew across the top of my drink and took a quick sip. My hands shook as I placed my cup back on the table.

"What if you both agree to it? I've done it before and it worked out fine."

"That's just because you weren't the one left heartbroken. I doubt the other person felt the same."

"We can ring them and find out." Matt pulled out his phone and swiped the lock screen open.

I clamped my hand over his, stopping him from scrolling through his contacts. "No, don't do that." My cheeks heated up with secondhand embarrassment. "They would be mortified. I'm mortified for them."

"Not a big deal."

"Says you, the non-heartbroken one."

"Fine. I'm only messing with you, anyway." He winked and set his phone in between us. "We can be friends though. Friends with no sex."

"Oh, I don't know. You already gave your end game away."

"Are you scared you can't resist me then?" he chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"More like you won't."

"Promise,"–Matt held his hand out– "no sex. We could both use a friend. You know, one fuck up to another," he said grinning, using my own words against me.

I slid my hand in his. "Fine. But just friends. Now, tell me what you are studying."

Matt beamed and explained how his own experiences with therapy and loss made him want to help others like him. He never revealed who he was mourning, but I hung on his every word as passion radiated from every pore on his body. His eyes were filled with life and I would have happily stayed there for hours, listening to him go on and on about Psychology, mental health, and cognitive therapy.

And that was when I realised I was screwed and lied about us just staying friends.

***