Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(42)

Like how she couldn’t wait until the night. How, after an hour, I had to pry myself off her to stop. She was satisfied, but with Lily, it’s a momentary fulfillment. It leaves the second she wishes to feel a climax again. I wanted to f*ck her as much as she wanted to be f*cked, but I had to watch her face crumble as she realized that was it.

For the first time, I’m looking at the bigger picture—the future—but Christ, no one ever mentioned how I’d have to endure preliminary pain to get there.

“You had sex a few days ago,” Allison repeats. “What exactly happened?”

“I put my penis in her vagina.” Embarrassment and remorse swim with the black tar in my chest. My filter—it’s permanently on the fritz. I think my father must have busted it one night. But not with his fists. He’s too civilized for that.

Lily lets out a laugh, which makes me feel a little better.

“Not anatomically,” Allison clarifies. “Did you only have missionary? How long did it last? What time of day? And how did it end? What were your feelings afterwards?”

So many f*cking questions, but I take them one at a time. “Only missionary. It was about seven o’clock.”

Lily immediately reddens at the time of day.

My eyes narrow, knowing full well that I just got caught by Lil’s ability to turn into a cherry.

“It’s best if you don’t lie,” Allison tells me.

“It was around three,” I say with a shrug. “She couldn’t wait until later, but she did hold out until we got home.”

Allison nods. “That’s really good, Lily.”

She brightens a little at the compliment, and I squeeze her shoulder, realizing that my words don’t hold the same power as her therapist. To hear a professional say, “You’re doing good,” must be a relief.

I wouldn’t know, really. Even though I learned a lot, most of the people at rehab wanted me out of there. And my therapist stares at me like I’m a world-class f*ck up. And Ryke—well, compliments from him aren’t worth much. He’s trying to make amends for being absent in my life, for leaving me alone with a father that he knew ranked low on the World’s Best Dad chart.

“And what happened afterwards?” Allison asks.

“I pulled away from her,” I say, “but she tried to keep going. I ended up just holding her in my arms until she fell asleep.”

The brief happiness in Lily’s eyes begins to flicker out, replaced by silent humiliation once more.

“You didn’t fall asleep with her?”

I frown. “What does it matter if I did or didn’t?” I don’t understand how this pertains to Lily. I shift on my seat, and Lily turns her attention to me. I don’t like that at all.

“You have a problem too,” Allison says, “and your addiction will affect her. It already has.”

I cut her off. “I get it. I should stay away from her. I should say goodbye and let her have a fighting chance.”

Lily’s eyes widen, and she clenches my shirt between pallid fingers.

Even thinking about letting her go puts a pain so deep in my gut. No one knows me like Lily Calloway. She’s my best friend, and without her—God, what’s the point?

“No,” Allison says flatly. “I was going to say that I’m here for you too, Lo. Your recovery is congruent with Lily’s. In order for her to be healthy, you need to be as well.” She pauses, glancing only once at her notebook. “I don’t think separation is the right action here. Without a monogamous relationship, Lily may fall back into her old routine, and it’s best to strengthen the one that’s already in place, not destroy it.”

I nod, her words slowly sinking in. I wait for the relief, but it barely hits me. I think all my happiness is buried beneath the torment of what’s to come.

“So,” she begins again, “why didn’t you fall asleep with her?”

I lick my lips, more willing to clear my thoughts now that I know she’s on our side. “Sleep has been really difficult for me lately. It takes me longer than Lily.” My leg jostles a little, and Lily is the one to press her hand to my knee, to give me much needed comfort, even though I’d rather be her rock right now. “Every night for years,” I say, “I’d drink until I passed out. Alcohol—that was my sleeping pill.” It was the very thing that stopped my restless thoughts and tucked me into bed. Without it, I’m constantly exhausted.

Allison asks me why that is, and I explain my alcohol dependency. Though I give her brief details, not wanting to focus the whole session on me. So I’m glad when Allison directs her next question to Lil.

“How did it make you feel when he told you to stop?”

A long pause strains the air.

Lily is weighing the truth with a lie. It’s what we do. We construct a pleasant story to mask the pain, to soften the hurt. We’re both so good at it that sometimes we even begin to believe the lies. I am terrified to travel down that road again, but it’s an easy one to take.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, unsure.

“It’s okay,” I prod. Even if the truth is ugly and cold, I want to hear it. I’m ready for us to lay everything out until we’re completely bare and exposed. I don’t know how else to make this work.

Allison rewords the question, softening its existence. “It won’t be the first or last time he’s going to tell you to stop. Now is a good time to talk about your reaction to the situation. So how did it make you feel, Lily?”