“I’ll be there in a second.”
“Lo—”
“I just need a minute.”
She glances at the raw skin on my knuckles, and then she nods again and heads into the house. When the door closes behind her, I grab my phone and dial a number.
The line clicks after the third ring. “Hey. How was the first day on the job?”
I can’t speak. I shouldn’t have called him. I’m about to hang up.
“Lo?” Ryke’s voice turns serious. “Hey, talk to me.”
I let out a breath. “Tell me why I shouldn’t.” I pinch my eyes. I want this to end. This torment. These feelings. I want to help Lily without needing something to drown my own thoughts.
“Because one drink isn’t worth what you’ll feel in the morning.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“You’ll puke,” he reminds me. That’s right, I’m on Antabuse. One sip of alcohol and I’ll be sick.
I pause, wondering if I still could test it out. Maybe I could. I grimace. Maybe I couldn’t.
“Because you love Lily more than that.”
And it hits me. I’m here. In the fucking car. Debating about a stupid glass of alcohol when Lily is waiting for me upstairs, fighting her compulsions, probably seconds from touching herself. And I’m supposed to be there to help her say no. To stop her. I’m the guy looking out for her the way Ryke is there for me.
Rose trusted that I would be able to stay sober and help Lily. And this is the one thing I want to do right.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Wait.” His voice pitches. “Do I need to come over? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, don’t come over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ryke, unless you want to walk in on me fucking my girlfriend, you need to stay at home.”
There’s a long pause, and then, “See you tomorrow?”
“Yep.” We both hang up.
And I step out of the car.
Ready to help Lily. Ready to be there.
Ready to change.
{ 11 }
LILY CALLOWAY
I pace back and forth in the kitchen. I’m a ball of string that needs to be unwound, an anxious mess and a compulsive freak. I didn’t follow Lo’s orders to retreat upstairs to our room and shed my clothes.
I stay right beside the back door, pressing my ear occasionally to the wood, waiting for him, hoping and praying that he’s not doing something bad and dangerous. I bite my nails, listening carefully at the sound of shuffled footsteps.
In the car, he looked like he wanted to sink and drown to the bottom of a dark, cold ocean. And I can’t let him do that. I can’t let him go.
The car door slams.
I peel my ear away and scuttle backwards, not quick enough. The door swings open and Lo catches me right here in the kitchen, disobeying his orders. A horrible, insane part of me wonders if he’ll hate that I care about him, if he’ll reprimand me for it.
I blurt out, “I’m sorry. I was just worried, and you looked upset…” I trail off while he stays stationary near the wall, his cheekbones sharpening. And I imagine what could have happened if he drank, if he did something worse in that garage. If he left me.
For real this time.
The truest deepest part of me suddenly speaks.
“I don’t know how to live without you.” And I shake my head quickly as tears pool. “And I don’t want to know how. I don’t want to find out.”
He is my breath. My soul. My life-force. I have spent forever with him. Being apart is the most unnatural feeling in the world. Three months—I could handle that like a bad itch. Forever without him?
Just kill me now.
He slowly walks to me, and his hand skims my cheek, his eyes never softening, his sharp demeanor never changing. He’s Loren Hale. Ice and whiskey. Powerful and intoxicating.
He’s my very best friend.
His forehead presses to mine, his lips so near. In a low whisper, he says, “You’ll never have to find out, Lil.”
I ache to kiss him, to solidify those words as truth.
His lips nearly brush mine, but he teases, a sliver of space tempting me and causing tension to build between us. His amber eyes flicker to me. “I will never learn how to live without you. I couldn’t fucking bear it.”
I grip his arms, keeping him close. This feels imagined, like a part my fantasies. But I’m touching him, cut muscles, his legs against my legs. I let out a breath. “And what if everyone says we shouldn’t be together—that it’s not right?” Every person has to learn to live alone at some point in their life. Why do we? I always wonder. Because it’s right, my conscience says. But I love him. But you’re co-dependent. But I love him. But it’s not okay.