Unbreak My Heart(44)

I move into the bedroom and sit next to him. We’re both still naked, and maybe this is fitting. Maybe naked is how we’re supposed to bare the most vulnerable parts of ourselves to each other. “I can live with that. I understand it was hard seeing those photos, and your mind leapt to places it shouldn’t have, and you were tempted. You needed help.” I take a deep breath. “As long as that’s all it was, and it’s behind you, then you don’t have to explain any more.”

I take his hand and squeeze it.

He doesn’t squeeze back.

He drops his head in his hands and sighs heavily. “I took more in LA.”

My heart craters. “You did?”

“I did. I took a bunch.”

“When? What led you to it?” Nerves thread through my questions.

“Right after I hit the car, and also before I saw you at lunch on the pier, and a few other times.”

A heavy weight tugs me down, pulls me under the sea, sinking my new image of us. “How many?”

“Does it matter?’

“Yes, the number matters.”

“Probably a dozen.”

I draw a deep breath.

Fifteen total isn’t addiction. Fifteen pills isn’t a problem.

But it’s the me who had three orgasms saying that. It’s not the me who’s a nurse. It’s not the me who sees the danger to both of us. I promised myself I wouldn’t be his safety net. I certainly won’t be his drug. That’s what scares me the most. Maybe he has acted better around me lately—stronger, happier, healthier—but what if that’s because I’m the high?

Love is a drug, and it’s stronger than Percocet.

I hate asking the question, but I have to know. “Andrew, am I your Percocet now? Am I what’s getting you through the grief?”

“No.” He snaps his gaze to me. “Not at all. Never.”

I want to believe him, but life was harder for him back home because it was normal, everyday stuff he had to deal with—living in an empty home, seeing his brother’s things, attending events without his best friend. Even though he’s been seeking answers here, his daily life feels more like a vacation—seeing the sights, indulging in treats, taking day trips.

Aside from that one slip-up with the photos, he hasn’t had to face anything terribly hard. What if he still needs assistance to help him through?

That’s the big issue. That’s why I need to know how he’s truly doing.

I take his face in my hands. “You’re doing so much better, but I want it to be from natural progression, not from me and not from drugs.”

His expression is pained. “It was only twice here. That night and the next morning, so it was practically the same time.”

My heart crawls up my throat, pushing up tears. That sounds like a justification. “But that was about me. You thought your brother and I—” I cut myself off. I won’t give that notion the dignity of words.

“It was once. One time.”

“But it was before too.”

He grabs my hand. “You have to believe me.”

“I do.” I sound desperate. I feel desperate. “I believe you with my whole heart. But you were taking them in Los Angeles. I’m so happy you’re healing. Nothing could make me happier. Nothing in the world. Not puppies, not sunshine, not a million perfect days.” I stop, look at the ceiling, and picture what’s still ahead of him. “But you’re not done. What happens if you find out something hard?”

“What am I going to find out, Holland?” he asks, and his caustic tone sears me.

“You haven’t seen Doctor Takahashi yet. Aren’t you trying to figure out why Ian stopped taking his meds? Isn’t that why you’re here? What if you learn that or something else, something you don’t even know, and it devastates you?”

“Are you hiding something from me?”

I wrench away. “No. I’m trying to help you, and don’t try to suggest that.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

I sigh heavily. “Stop it. Just stop it.”

“Are you?”

I take his hand again. This time he lets me. “It would be impossible for me to break up with you, you ding-dong. Don’t you listen to me? I fucking love you. That won’t change. But I need to know you can handle things without drugs, and I need to know I’m not your painkiller.”

His eyes are etched with pain. “I can’t lose you again.”

My lip quivers. “You’re not losing me. But I am asking you to find all your answers to those questions before we dive into how the hell we’re going to make this work.” Once more, I take his face in my hands. “Do you understand?”

He nods sadly. “Will you stay the night?”

My heart lurches toward the man I love. The man who’s not done healing. “Yes, but in the morning, I have to go, and you need to keep stepping forward.”

“I will. But right now, I need to do something.”

I raise an eyebrow curiously.

He pulls on underwear and shorts and marches to the bathroom. Grabbing the pills, he dumps them into the bathroom trash can then ties up the small plastic bag from the bin. He holds up the bag like a trophy. “Be right back. “