What If (If Only.... #2)(67)

Miles nods slowly. I told him all about Griffin and AmeriCorps and having to live free of his parents’ financial support as soon as he graduates.

“I’m so proud of him,” I continue. “But I won’t get in the way of him finding a place for himself.”

Miles lets go of my hand and pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “We’ll talk in the morning, after you sleep. Deal?”

I force a smile. “Sure. I’ll pay you back,” I add. “For the fine. And for coming to get me.”

Miles waves me off, but I know a thousand dollars isn’t an amount he can part with.

As we pull into the parking lot at the Royal Grounds café, I see George and Jeanie straightening up the tables and Paige behind the counter, wiping it down with a rag.

Miles nods at our little helpers and smiles, and the corner of my mouth lifts as well.

“I’ll meet you and Paige back at your place as soon as I’m done. We’re having a slumber party.”

My throat tightens at the thought of going home, where I was supposed to go with Griffin. “Okay,” I croak. “Thank you. For everything.”

We exit the car without another word and head inside. Paige beams, her smile obviously a reaction to seeing Miles, but when she turns to me her expression doesn’t falter.

“I just need to pee,” she says, bouncing with adrenaline or urgency or both. She runs around the counter to hug me before rushing to the staff bathroom in the back.

Miles thanks George and Jeanie for covering for him, and they both hug me on the way out, saying nothing more than “You’re welcome.”

Suddenly it’s two years ago, and I’m home after four weeks of hospitalization. Though memories of those first few months are sketchy, I haven’t forgotten the kid-glove treatment, the whispers when people thought I wasn’t listening or couldn’t hear.

She’ll never be the same.

What if she doesn’t recover?

I read if it happens to you once, you’re at increased risk of it happening again.

To those who know me, I’ll always be the toy they’re afraid to take out of the box in case it breaks. Those who don’t know me, they’ll run for the hills as soon as they find out. Hell, I would. I am the definition of high maintenance.

My eyes focus on Miles’s hand waving in front of my face.

“Hey…where’d you go? I asked if you wanted some caffeine to take with you.”

I blink him back into focus and shake my head.

“I just want to go to sleep.”

He folds me into his arms, and I sink against his chest.

“Paige and I will be with you, and I’ll take you to your appointment in the morning.”

“I can take the bus.” I try to protest. He’s done enough for me already. But he rubs my back, my hair, and squeezes me tighter.

“At some point, Maggie, you have to let others love you and help you without this guilt you carry around. You aren’t responsible for what happened to you or how you’ve had to alter your life to fit your recovery.”

He sighs, and I stay in his arms, safe from seeing his expression—safe from him seeing mine.

“No one sees you as anything less than wonderful, as long as you let us in.”

“Maggie.”

The sound of my name is hoarse and pained, and though I’m in Miles’s arms, it’s another voice I hear, coupled with a roaring of wind.

I look to the door, and there stands Griffin, brown eyes glossy with what can only be the effect of a drink too many. But his cheeks burn red from the cold, and his whole body shakes.

“Oh my God, Griffin. Where’s your coat? How long were you out there?”

I break free of Miles’s warmth and move toward him, forgetting for the moment how this night was supposed to go and how very differently it went instead.

“You’re freezing,” I say, as I raise my palm to his wind-burned cheek. No sooner does my skin meet his than he flinches away.

“I’m fine. I don’t feel anything.”

I see the anger and hurt and inebriation burning in his glassy eyes. The first two tear at my heart. I did this to him. But seeing him in this state fuels my anger as well. He has a choice, to self-destruct or not.

“You’re drunk, too,” I say, taking a step back. “Damn it, Griffin. I thought you were done with this crap.”

“I thought you were going to show up tonight. I guess we both get a gold star for disappointment.” Despite his intoxication, his words are clear, his voice calm. But the underlying ache breaks me. I can’t do this. We can’t do this, be the constant source of each other’s disappointment. Griffin hasn’t been drunk the entire time I’ve known him. I won’t be the reason he falls back into these habits, not when he is finally turning things around.

Miles strides up next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. “I’m okay,” I tell him, doing everything in my power to mirror the evenness of Griffin’s voice, to mask my pain better than his. “We have to do this.”

A clean break. No bad feelings. We just walk away. We’re too far gone for that, aren’t we? I’ll have to make him believe I’m not. I can’t be the one to send him back down this road.

“I texted you,” he says. “I even called over here when your phone went to voicemail. I thought something had happened to you.” He breathes in a ragged breath, and I want to tell him I’m sorry. That it’s my fault he’s hurting. I should tell him I’m not ready for this, that I need help, that I’m not okay on my own yet. But his pity will kill me even more than his hurt. So I say nothing to make this easier on him in the short-term. He’s better off hurting now before things get too far. Before I admit how much I’ve already fallen for him.