"Um. Hi. Again. My name's Eddie. Um. I'm an Aries, they say that comes with a lot of rage and... I kind of get it. Like I'm made of fire. That's a zodiac thing too, isn't it? Maybe you don't need to know that. Do you? Um, I don't do this often—or at all, you know that. I'm sorry that you know that. But I hurt someone I really care about and if this is what it takes to... to not do that again, it's worth it.

"I never really thought of myself as a person who needs help, but it might be because my parents never tried to get help and they needed it more than I did. I always thought of this as something that wasn't necessary until I was ready to jump off a building but I never really... thought that far ahead. I mean. I got very close. But I'm not good at thinking ahead. And I guess I always thought that I wasn't that bad. Like, other people have it worse so I shouldn't waste someone's time with my bullshit problems because someone else's life-ending or life-altering problems deserve the time of day on ears willing to listen. But. I'm here. That's worth something, right? What else am I supposed to say?

"I'm an alcoholic. Most of the time I feel like I can't get through a day without drinking something. I think I'm six weeks sober right now, that's the longest I've ever not been drunk since I started drinking too young. That's kind of embarrassing when I think about it. I always told myself I'd quit drinking when I finally quit smoking but I don't think nicotine patches work for me or maybe I need to use more than one but if it's all the same to you, sometimes I'd still rather cough a lung piss-drunk than exist in a world where I have to actually be coherent. Maybe that's worrisome, I'm sorry.

"My drinking got worse after that night at the bar. Guess I should've led with that, huh? Right. Um. Well, a few months ago someone groped me in a bar and kissed me without permission and, you know, probably would've done something worse if my friends hadn't intervened. That might be speculation but last I checked this wasn't a court of law. Then someone broke into my apartment and taunted me about it. I haven't been back there since because I'm... scared of it. Terrified, actually. And between those two, between us two, I can't stop crying. I can't stop feeling numb to... everything. Including people I love. Never said that out loud before, you're really good at this. I guess that's kind of your job.

"I guess most of my addictions came from the idea that I am unlovable as is. I've always felt too hard to digest. Never did a damn thing to change it. Even my sex addiction came from the idea I couldn't trick anyone into loving me. Hell. My parents didn't love me—have twins, they said, ditch 'em when it gets too hard, they said. And I don't blame my sister for not knowing the first thing about raising us, but it didn't help that she always seemed to know the answers for Indy and not me. I probably didn't help her when I didn't know the answer to why I kept getting into fights. I think I have this weirdly self-destructive gene where I think if I'm in pain, it means no one else is, and somewhere in my stupid brain, that's how it's supposed to be. That I'm protecting people by letting myself get hurt. Emotionally, physically.

"I got my first concussion and decided I was too stupid for college, they told me I had a possibility for CTE later in life and I figured why not get a couple more concussions and make it almost a guarantee? Why not let myself get hurt a little more? I don't know. Maybe that stems from my parents ditching us. Hurt myself before I could get hurt. Turn down people who love me because eventually I'll hurt them because that's what I was bred to do, because I didn't know them long but if I know anything about my parents it's that I am nothing if not their daughter because I love to burn fucking bridges. I also can't get hurt if I hurt them first, so why even try when my thought on love is that it doesn't exist? I hurt my sister because I didn't even notice she was hurting because I'm an emotionally constipated asshole who probably needs a laxative—god, that's really gross, I'm so sorry.

"I guess the short version, which maybe I should've started with, is that I am an addict for most things under the sun you can list that are legal, I have a heart that should probably live in Antarctica because it might save the world with how fucking frozen it is, and I do not know how to stop hurting people because the only time I ever feel like I'm a real person is when I'm in a lot of fucking pain. Is that how this is supposed to go?"

No matter how fuzzy he was on her shitty laptop screen and his pixelated video image, there was no denying that Roman Sahota had the most non-judgemental smile in the universe and that she trusted him because of it. If she'd listened to him the first time, maybe her many messes would've been less difficult to clean up. He nodded.

"Pretty much," he said as he adjusted the baby he was holding in his arms. "The good news is that we're going to work through this together. Thank you for trusting me, thank you for being here. How'd that feel to let out?"

"Fuckin' good."

"Great," Roman said. "So. I'm Roman. I'm an Aquarius. And I'm looking forward to helping you as best I can. Please don't mind it if I'm covered in baby vomit, or worse, when we're on call. It happens. Where would you like to start?"

*

When Roman and Eddie were finished, she had a challenge before their next meeting. (Eddie was a twice a week case with emergency openings, imagine that.) If she wasn't willing to go for a walk and end up at either her sister's house, or her boyfriend's apartment, she had to brave whatever was on that USB the night that Rush got hurt.

And, oh, how she'd been avoiding that. If it weren't bad enough to have it constantly remind her of watching Rush in the ring, it also reminded her of how mad Axel was. How their last conversations were his anger at how she behaved when she couldn't do any better.

She waited until Rush and Laki were asleep to pull her laptop out again. The last thing she needed was the former being nosey, like he usually was. Her laptop lit up quickly with the alert she clicked on to look at the contents of the USB. What she hadn't expected was three videos. To Axel's credit, at least he had listed them as first, second, and third. Not anything that would've told her what was on it, of course. Just an almost intimidating set of numbers that made Eddie want to click three first and get it out of the way, but that felt disingenuous for what Roman wanted her to try and do. Eddie clicked the first one.

The sea of giggling that followed made her want to text Roman and thank him for the kick in the ass. She also wanted to text Axel and apologize for everything she ever did wrong, but the last thing she wanted was the potential for her number to have been blocked.

"Hi, Eddie—" One of Eddie's favourite sounds, she discovered that year, was Axel laughing like he was on cloud nine and nobody could bring him down.

"Come on, man." Honestly? The joy of Kingston Maverick was more than welcome, too. It had been so long since she got to hear it. And the two of them together? Well, of course they were making music. He had a guitar across his lap. There was no denying the empty drinks behind them on the studio floor. "Get through it."

"Mav and I are drunk I'm sorry but I love you and Mav says this is a good idea."

"We just finished his album and we still have studio time."

"First time in your life you've ever been early."

"Axel."

"Can't say finished quick because I'm sure Leigh could tell me stories."

The video stopped when Maverick lurched forward, nearly dropped his bass, and shut it off. The action didn't stop the burst of laughter before Maverick pressed the power.

Video two.

"Hi, Eddie—"

"You might be the love of his life—"

"You can't say that right now, do you want to scare her?"

"Too chicken shit to ask her out."

"I'm not scared—There's a lot going on in her life." The bright red shade of Axel's face made Eddie want to screenshot the image and make it her phone wallpaper. At that moment, it was a picture of Axel asleep with Peter in her spot on bed. Cuddling like there were no other plans that day.

"Boo fuckin' hoo," Maverick said. "It would make both of you happier, asshole."

Axel turned the camera off.

Video three.

"Hi, Eddie," Axel said. "I don't know if you're ever going to see this. It could be the worst fuckin' thing we've ever made together. But, I know boxing's got a bad taste in your mouth right now—"

"Hopefully you're not the bad taste in her mouth—"

"Shut up, Pete."

Maverick had to excuse himself to go laugh.

"But there's always been something different about when you walk into the ring," Axel said. "Everyone picks an I'm the greatest ever song, but you have the world's greatest breakup song. I mean, who the hell hears Mr. Brightside and doesn't want to cheer for you? I've been taking pictures of you since your first day in the ring and I've been on your side since the first fight."

"Whore," Maverick said as he came back to sit in his seat. Cracked open a can of something Eddie didn't want to take her eyes off pixelated Axel to figure out what it was.

"If there comes a time where I actually give this to you," Axel said. "Please know it's because I'm always on your side. In your corner. And I want to be there for it all, if you'll let me."

It took a couple seconds of shifting around for Axel to get to the microphone in the studio. Maverick didn't need to look down to find the cords he needed.

When it came down to it, Eddie hadn't known Axel that long. She knew some parts of his upbringing that made him who he was and she wished, ultimately, that she knew more about him. She wanted to know his good, his bad. She wanted to hear what pissed him off even if it was her, and she wanted to hear what lit him up inside, especially if it was her. She wanted to spend so much time with him that she'd mourn the fact it took them 30 years to find each other because that's 30 years they could've spent annoying the shit out of each other instead of being so goddamn sad on opposite ends of the country and being teenagers who just wanted to be okay with the world around them.

That said, Maverick's guitar sounded wonderful and Axel sounded as great as the day she'd met him in that stupid karaoke bar singing Shania Twain. And he looked so fucking happy. So at home. Drunk and stupid and against all odds, already on his way to being in love with Eddie.

Maybe it was part of healing that Eddie found herself crying through her smiling at a video of drunk Axel Canterbury singing Mr. Brightside. Maybe it was something more than that.