Chapter 52
FIFTY-TWO
ANDY
Wednesday morning, I wake with dread in my stomach and an ominous feeling surrounding me. I've gotten used to Declan going silent on me for hours, sometimes an entire day. I understand he was traveling and busy, and I've never wanted to be the girlfriend constantly nagging him and begging for attention.
No matter how busy he's been, we've been in contact every day, no matter the time. Not hearing from him for nearly a week has me on edge, yet I get the feeling he's been avoiding me for a reason.
It's been a week since I've heard from him, and with each passing day, my anxiety increases, especially considering I know that he relapsed. For a week, I've been replaying our last conversation.
Had he said something that I missed?
Did he break up with me, and I missed it?
After we made love on the floor of his hotel room, we talked and made a plan. When he came home on Saturday, I would help him prepare for rehab. We were going to find the best program for him, and he was going to go, and I'd be there waiting for him once he got out.
He rode with me to the airport, hand on my thigh for the entire silent journey. When we'd arrived, he'd kissed me so deeply that it left me lightheaded and nearly gasping for air.
Was he telling me goodbye?
Had he known he was going to ghost me?
It's been a week of radio silence. A week of texting nonstop and checking my phone every time it dings, desperate to see his name across the screen.
I've tried calling and texting his friends, and each attempt has been a failure. I even tried calling Cece, and just like the others, there's no response.
I just need someone to tell me he's okay.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I even called Declan's manager's office and left a message for Benny. When he didn't return my call, I figured they were avoiding me for a reason.
This must be how they treat the girls Declan decides to toss to the side when he's done with them.
I was right all along. I was just a warm pussy to pass the summer with. I was never meant to be anything more. He wouldn't have ghosted me if I had been worth more.
If he's still using, that's fine. We'd get through it. All I wanted to know was that he was alive and okay, but clearly, I'm so insignificant that I can't be given that single courtesy.
Fuck him.
I have a bad attitude when I go to work Wednesday morning, and working is the last thing I want to do. All I want is to sit in my pajamas, stuff my face with ice cream, and eat my feelings away all day while rewatching episodes of One Tree Hill .
I was tempted to call in, but I needed the money, so I had to suck it up and be an adult.
Even had to lie to my daughter when she asked about Declan.
Max asks about him every day. Asking me to show her on their map where he currently is, when he'll be back, and when she can talk to him.
Eventually, she'll realize that he's not coming back to us, and I'll have to prepare her for that moment. She loves him so much that I know it'll break her heart when I have to tell my innocent child that Declan's no longer going to be in our life.
The sad thing is, if he were to call me right now, I'd forgive him for anything. That's how hopelessly in love with him I am.
I'm sitting at my desk in the back office, sorting through the papers from the nightly audit, when my phone rings.
At the sound, my breathing stops, hope filling my body as I pray to anyone who will listen that Declan's voice will come through the speaker.
Sinking my teeth into my plump bottom lip, I reach inside the pocket of my black work pants and pull out my phone, checking the name on the contact.
Adam's name displays on my screen, and my heart stops. Dread fills my body, ice chilling my veins. There's only one reason he'd be calling.
"Hello?" I answer too quickly, waiting for his voice on the other end of the line, waiting for him to confirm the horrific feeling I have deep in my gut.
"Andy." He sniffles. The way he says my name has me holding my breath, my fingernails digging into the soft flesh of my thighs.
"Say it, Adam. Tell me what happened," I say sharply, desperate for information.
"It's Declan." He hiccups. "God, Andy. Declan fucking overdosed. He's in the hospital right now, and we don't know what's going to happen." I fucking knew there was a reason he hadn't been answering me. Nausea fills my stomach, bile rising in the back of my throat at the thought that the man I love could die.
My bottom lip trembles as I force myself to ask the question, "He's alive?" Emotion clogs my throat, but I force myself to swallow it down even though my throat feels like sandpaper and the motion is painful. He's alive , I remind myself.
That's all that matters.
"Can you come, Andy? You need to be here. I can send a car for you."
"What? How?"
"We're back in Vegas. We got in on Saturday."
They've been in Vegas since Saturday. They're all safe and arrived precisely when they were supposed to.
Did they fucking know Declan was using again? Is that why they didn't answer the phone?
I'm unable to keep the venom from my tone as I ask, "Did you fucking know he was using again?" Right now, I don't care that he's upset about his best friend.
Adam sighs, and that's all the confirmation I need. I grit my teeth, pinching the bridge of my nose as I take slow and steady breaths. "What happened?"
"We've been trying to help him since you left last week. We didn't know he went out that night, but when he came back to the hotel, he was fucked up. I moved his shit into my room and made him stay with me until we got home. He's been so fucked up, Andy." He sniffles and I can practically feel everything he's feeling through the phone. "I've never seen Declan so fucked up. When we got home Saturday, I brought him home with me, and we've been keeping him clean. He's been detoxing for a few days. I left him alone for thirty fucking minutes, and when I came back, he was passed out, needle still in his arm." I don't realize that tears are streaming down my face until I lick my dry lips, tasting the saltiness. Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I stand from my desk, gathering my purse and car keys with one hand while holding my phone with the other, needing to hear everything Adam has to say.
"Send me your location. I'm on my way." He says something in response, but I'm already hanging up before I can hear him.
My phone chimes a second later, and I open his text, clicking on the location pin that brings up the map and directions to the hospital where the man I love is.
I rush out of the back office, attention turning to Eliza, my employee that’s working the morning shift with me today. I stop long enough to tell her there's a family emergency and I have to go, then I'm running to my car, jumping in, starting it, and speeding out of the parking lot.
Lucy answers my call instantly, and as soon as I tell her I'm headed to Vegas to the hospital, she agrees to keep Max as long as needed.
I've just turned onto the freeway when a painful sob rips through my chest, tears burning my eyes as they spill down my face like an endless waterfall. The pained sobs rip my chest apart, somewhere between screams of anguish and heartbroken, painful, wrenching sobs.
Declan is in the hospital.
Declan overdosed.
Declan is alive.
The moment I enter the doors at Sunrise Hospital, I'm hit with the nauseating smell of antiseptic and death.
Memories of being here when my grandpa died assault me, grabbing me by the throat and suffocating me. I grip the wall to steady myself, breathing through my mouth in a desperate attempt to rid myself of the smell.
The elevator takes me to the third floor, then dings open, revealing the somber waiting room.
At the sound of the elevator, Adam's head pops up, sad eyes locking on me as he stands from where he was seated beside Cece and Cole.
Damon and Cole turn their gaze to meet mine, wearing the same matching expressions as Adam and Cece.
I'm so fucking pissed at them that I pull my gaze away, attention turning toward Adam as he greets me. He instantly pulls me into his arms, and his sniffles are loud in my ear as he hugs me tight, shoulders shaking with a silent sob.
There are no more tears left in my body. I cried everything out during the drive. I am so fucking angry with every single person in this room right now.
How long had they known Declan was using again?
At this point, I'm certain he lied to me when I was in New York; I feel like he’s been using longer than what he claimed. I'm just not sure how long. Likely since the day he left.
That second night in Seattle seems to be when everything changed for us.
Had he been high each time we spoke, and I didn't notice?
Was he using each time I tried to FaceTime or call him, and he had an excuse?
Was he partying with them after each show?
Is that why he tattooed my name on his cock? Because he was high and did it for whatever reason?
I'm doubting everything and replaying every conversation we've had.
How could I have been so fucking blind? He's been suffering in silence for much longer than I'd realized. I'd been foolish to think a few months of sobriety would make him strong enough for a relationship. I should've focused on being his friend rather than a girlfriend.
If I'd been only a friend, I wouldn't have been blinded by him going on a downward spiral.
Fuck, Declan.
What did you do, baby?
Damon, Cole, and Cece hug me after Adam steps away.
I sit down, and my leg bounces nervously as I stare at the four with narrowed eyes.
"What has the doctor said? Is he okay? Can he have visitors?" I ask as a million questions jumble together in my mind.
Damon clears his throat, fingers scrubbing over his exhausted face. "We're waiting for clearance to go back to see him. The doctor was out here before you arrived and said they're going to keep Declan for a few days."
"Andy, he told them that—" Adam chimes in, but Damon gives a subtle shake of his head, his eyes pleading with his friend not to tell me whatever he was going to say .
Instantly, my back straightens, and I'm on high alert. "Fucking tell me," I demand. "I think enough secrets have been kept. Don't you?" I snark, lip curling in a snarl as I stare between the four of them.
They all fucking knew what was going on, and none of them thought it would be a good idea to answer my calls or send a simple text to let me know what was going on.
"He told the doctor it wasn't accidental." Adam's whispered confession hangs in the air, sucking the air from my lungs as I struggle to understand what he's saying.
Shaking my head, I stand, needing to do something over than sit and hear what they're trying to tell me. But as much as it hurts, I need to hear it. "What do you mean it wasn't accidental?" I enunciate the words slowly in attempt to hide the tremble from my voice.
"He was trying to overdose," Adam explains while I watch Damon wipe a tear away from his face. Watching these three big, rough rockstars cry over their friend softens my heart a little, but it doesn't take away any of the anger and confusion coursing through my body. "Declan was trying to kill himself." He chokes up as he struggles to speak.
The realization that Declan intentionally overdosed has my knees giving out on me. I collapse into a chair, lips parted and mind racing as I try to make sense of his actions. "He did it again," I whisper, eyes stinging with tears that refuse to form.
"What do you mean again?" Cole asks, eyes pinning me in place.
Declan trusted me with his secret, but considering we're sitting in the hospital waiting room because he once again tried to take his life, I don't feel the need to keep it to myself. His friends should know. "His first overdose wasn't an accident, either. When he was married to Camille, he tried to kill himself then, too. She saved his life. But it wasn't accidental."
"He told you that?" Cole asks, blinking rapidly to keep his tears from falling. Cece sits beside him, knees hugged to her chest with one arm while the other rubs Cole's back. I nod in confirmation.
Having revealed enough, we fall silent and take in the new information.
Twenty minutes later, the doors open, and a nurse in baby-blue scrubs steps out, walking directly toward us. Her eyes are focused on Adam, and I'm assuming they've spoken before.
Adam stands, leaving the rest of us sitting. "Can we see him now?" he asks, voice full of hope.
The blonde-headed nurse looks over each of us with a sad smile. "He's asking for you, Adam, and only one of you can go back." Adam nods, looking over his shoulder at me. I was hopeful that Declan would ask for me, but why would he? He doesn't know I'm here.
As if reading my thoughts, Adam says, "Don't worry. I'll let him know you're here." He follows the nurse, and I overhear her telling him to empty his pockets and remove his shoes before going into the room because he's being held on suicide watch.
My poor, broken boy.
How long has he wanted to die?
How long has he felt worthless?
Eyes still stinging, I stand after watching Adam disappear between wooden double doors. I decide to walk down the opposite side of the hallway, needing space away from his friends who failed to fill me in on what's been happening.
Stepping into the restroom, I lock the door behind me, lean against the wall, and bring my phone to my face.
A red alert icon that I've never noticed before stares at me.
When did I receive a voicemail? I don't remember ever missing a call.
With shaky fingers, I click on the phone app, selecting the option for voicemail.
Declan's name pops up, showing a voicemail from 10:14 a.m. this morning.
I gasp, hands shaking and eyes becoming blurry as I struggle to realize what I'm seeing. Declan called me this morning before he overdosed, and I missed it. I missed his fucking call.
Frantically, I press the voicemail and bring it to my ear, placing a hand over my mouth to muffle the choked sobs that threaten to rip free.
At the first rasp of his slurred voice, I lose my balance, collapsing to the floor with a heavy thud, but I don't feel the pain. I'm too focused on the sound of my beautiful boy's broken voice.
"Hey, Mama," he slurs, voice raspy as if he just woke up. "I wanted to hear your voice, but you're not answering. I think it's because you hate me." He sighs. "That's okay because I hate me too. I want you to know that I've been thinking about you and Max, and I'm so fucking sorry. So fucking sorry that I made you love me because you gave your love to someone that doesn't deserve it. I'm going to fix things for us, baby. You’ll both be able to free yourself of me because all I'll ever do is drag you down. You were too fucking good to be ruined by me, but I'm selfish and did it anyways." His words are slow as if he's nodding off between each word. "I love you, Andy Harris. It wasn't until I met you that I realized I'd never truly been in love before. You were it for me. I fucking love you. You deserve better than me. I'm sorry, Mama. So fucking sorry. Forgive me." There's a long silence, and I pull the phone away to see if the voicemail has ended, but I see a few seconds remaining. Bringing it back to my ear, I continue listening.
"I love you, Mama. Tell Max I love her, too. You're in my fucking veins. I just wanted all of your tomorrows. I'm fucking sor?—"
The message cuts off just as a loud muffled sob escapes me, tears once again streaming down my face.
Curling into the fetal position on the cold bathroom floor, I rest my cheek against the tile, my body numb, heart aching as I place the phone on speaker, set it beside my head, and listen to the message on repeat.
My poor, poor, broken man.
What happened to him to make him this way?
No matter how much I love him, it'll never be enough if he doesn't believe he's worth it.
Declan, what happened to you?
Why are you so broken?