If You Stay (Beautifully Broken, #1)(49)

“I guess I didn’t know a lot about her,” Pax admits. He looks weary. Not sad really, but just very tired. He grips his coffee cup as the officers take notes and ask even more questions.

I feel frozen as I curl up on the couch and wait for it to be over. Through the window, I can see the EMT’s rolling a gurney toward Jill’s body and they load her up, zipping her into a black bag.

The finality of it slams into me.

Just like that, she’s gone from sight. I feel so empty and sad, like in a second, everything about this woman was extinguished, without respect or fanfare. I didn’t even know her, so I have no idea why it is affecting me so deeply.

Except that I know it could’ve been Pax.

And a part of me, deep down, is terrified now. Unsure.

I have no idea if I can handle this. What if the next body that I walk up to is Pax’s? What if he underestimates his ability to stay clean? I’m just not sure if I’m strong enough to find out.

I feel Pax watching me, as if he can hear my troubling thoughts.

I look up to find his eyes uncertain and soft and he raises his eyebrows, as if to ask Are you alright?

I nod. Yes, I am.

And I smile a little to prove it.

But I don’t know if I am alright at all.

So my smile was a lie.

I close my eyes.





[page]Chapter Seventeen


Pax



“That must have been horrible for you,” Dr. Tyler says quietly as he once again takes notes in his stupid little notepad. “To find Jill like that, in your own yard. That would take a toll on anyone.”

He pauses and looks at me. I’ve already been here for thirty minutes and to be honest, I don’t know why I came. Except that I don’t know what to do with everything that is happening in my life. I feel a little like I’m floundering, like I’ve lost control. That was one thing about using. It always made me feel as though I was in control…even when I wasn’t.

“Of course it was horrible,” I answer. “There was a dead person at my house. It was startling.”

Dr. Tyler stares at me. “There was a dead person at your house whom you have been sexually involved with. She tried to contact you prior to dying. You have more than a passing interest in this, Pax. You need to deal with whatever you are feeling about it. Can you tell me what you feel?”

“I’m pissed, actually,” I glare at him. “Why did she have to come to my house to overdose? Was it to prove a point? I told her that we were done, not that there was ever a we. We fulfilled a purpose for each other. That’s all. I didn’t even know her last name.”

Dr. Tyler stares at me thoughtfully and I feel like he is trying to look inside of me.

“Are you really angry because she died at your house?” he finally answers. “Or are you angry that you weren’t there with her? Or for her when she tried to ask you for help? Do you know what her texts said? Or did you throw your phone overboard before you read them?”

I’m pissed now, mainly because he’s right. I’ve wondered about those very things.

“Are you trying to imply that this is my fault because I didn’t answer her texts? The girl was psycho. She was an addict who needed help. I told her to get help, but she chose not to.”

The doctor holds his hand up.

“Of course I’m not saying it was your fault,” he says soothingly. “It wasn’t. She is responsible for her own actions. I was just wondering if you were able to read any of her messages to you? It might provide you with some sort of explanation, so that you are able to get closure. I’m guessing that you are feeling some guilt and maybe even the urge to use. I want to help you deal with that.”

I shake my head.

“I don’t need closure. Someone that I know died. I didn’t love her. I read a couple of her messages. She wanted drugs and she sounded desperate. I have no idea where she found the drugs that she overdosed with. The only guilt that I feel is based on the fact that I didn’t cut her off a long time ago. I contributed to her state of mind by giving her drugs for the past two years. That’s something that I am responsible for. I feel badly for her that she wasn’t able to quit, but that’s all. And I haven’t felt the urge to use. Far from it, actually. I’m tired of talking about this now. Can we get back to my issues?”

“In a moment,” Dr. Tyler answers. “I’m curious about Mila. How has this affected her?”

I pause and I feel my heart quicken. Every day this week since the incident, as I’ve been referring to it, I’ve felt panicky when I pictured the look on Mila’s face that morning. It was a look like she somehow thought it was all my fault, like I might end up like Jill. And like she wasn’t prepared for any of it.

I swallow and my throat is so dry I can hear it.

“Mila is a trooper,” I reply. “She stayed while the police asked their questions and she was worried about Jill’s kids. She’s got a soft heart.”

“So, she didn’t draw any parallels between you and Jill?” The doctor sounds doubtful. I get the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

“Of course she did. She told me that it could’ve been me. And then I promised her that it never would be.”

“And did she accept that answer?” Dr. Tyler’s pen pauses.