Chapter 19 #4
Paxton frowned. “Atticus said he’d break up with you if you used again? Those exact words?” His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of skepticism—enough to make me realize something felt off, because it didn’t sound like Atty. Not when he said it.
“Yeah.” I swallowed; the words suddenly tasted wrong. “And…if I refused to get help.”
He nodded slowly. “Would you? Refuse?”
“No, of course not.” The answer came without thinking, and Paxton’s face softened. He didn’t speak over me; he just waited until I could catch up to myself. “Of course not,” I repeated.
And that was it—the awful loop I’d been trapped in. He had never actually said the words the way I’d replayed them in my head. If you fuck up, we’re done. That wasn’t Atty. He’d wanted me to get better; he’d said that so many times, and I’d never listened.
I would never refuse help now. I had Sam, I had tools. Things that worked.
“I don’t know all the history between you two,” Paxton said, “but I can tell you’ve been through a lot together.
From what I saw tonight, that man loves you.
Anyone with eyes can see it. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d just give up—not if you’re actually working toward getting better. Which you are, Noah.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Fear can’t be your only motivator. I get that it tends to take over, but you’ve done the work. You know how to throw yourself a lifeline.”
Little by little, the storm inside my head started to lighten.
“You don’t have to tell me your reasons. But you do have to remember them. And remember that as long as you keep admitting this is a problem and face the shitty stuff head-on, then you’ve got this.”
I had been doing it. I’d been facing things. Problems. I wasn’t running anymore—not from difficult conversations, or the spirals my mom caused, or my own responsibilities.
And I had that, a really good fucking reason had kept me on track—one that had pulled me through the shitstorm after I’d left Atty two years ago.
I closed my eyes and pictured it: the future. Not some dramatic fantasy, just something simple—the new house, sunlight through the windows, music low. A cat, maybe. Stability. Love. Atty. Family.
Breathing into that image eased the rest of my worries. My chest loosened; gradually, everything began to fall into place. I could almost see the shoreline of calm rising beyond the panic.
“Have you ever been to a meeting?” Paxton asked.
I opened my eyes slowly. The question hung there—heavy, but not judgmental.
“Not really,” I said. “I’ve been to rehab a couple of times, and we had some there. But the rest of it I worked through with my therapist. He specializes in addiction.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I guess I never really gave the rest of it a shot.”
He nodded. “Do you want to go? They really helped me. It goes a long way in making you feel less alone. Gives hope.”
“But you go to AA.”
“They have NA at the center too. I could tag along, if you’d like. It can’t hurt, having another tool in your belt.”
The thought made my stomach twist—but also, why the hell not? It seemed like I had Paxton on my team too. If we were going to pull off this whole rock band thing, I needed someone who understood the shit underneath it. And Paxton did.
Takes one to know one.
I didn’t have to keep up the front anymore, pretending everything was fine while it all crumbled underneath. Even if he was new, he felt safe.
“Okay.”
A smile curved his lips. “So, crisis averted? Do you want to go back?”
I glanced at the glowing lights down the beach, faint music drifting on the breeze.
“Yeah, but I’m heading home after that,” I said. “I just… I need to shut the world off for a bit. Reset. Thanks, Pax.”
“Anytime.”
We didn’t move right away, choosing to stay there a little longer.
When we finally walked back, it was in easy silence. This didn’t fix everything, but it was enough to quiet the spiral. And wasn’t that something?
Atty still had that deer-in-the-headlights look when we rejoined the group. I hated that I’d scared him.
“Hey, do you want to go home with me?” I asked, brushing a kiss over his cheek.
He threaded his fingers through mine. “Sure.”
As soon as we hit the street, he tugged on my hand gently, forcing me to face him. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Yeah.” I grasped his hand a little tighter. “I walked into a room, people were taking bumps. They offered, and I—I bolted.”
His shoulders tensed. “Is that slang for coke?”
“Yes.”
A flicker of fear crossed his face.
“I talked to Paxton. He helped—he’s in AA.” I’d already asked him if it was okay for Atty to know. He’d said yes.
“He helped?”
I nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah. It’s nice having someone who’s been through something similar. Makes the conversation easier.”
He stepped in close, arms sliding around my shoulders, pulling me into him. “You can talk to me too. But I’m glad you found someone like him.”
“Me too.” I tucked my face into the curve of his neck. “And Atty?”
“Yeah?”
I leaned back to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I never listened—when you asked me to get help.”
His lips curved into a hesitant smile, caught between hope and pain.
“I’m never going to let it get that bad again, okay? I won’t do that to myself or to you. I’ll get help.”
His shoulders eased, relief lifting off him, like it had been weighing there for the longest time. He nodded earnestly before pulling me into another tight hug. “You don’t know how happy that just made me.” His words brushed soft against my temple.
“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
He shook his head, refusing to let go. “So, you’re alright?”
“I am.” The knot in my chest loosened. “I’m going to a meeting with Pax.”
“That sounds great.” We shared a breath. “Home?” he asked.
“Home.” That one word warmed me from the inside out.
“Though I’ll be honest—I don’t think tonight’s a take-your-clothes-off kind of night. My head’s not in the right place.”
He smiled down at me. “That’s okay. We can just cuddle and sleep.” Honestly, that sounded perfect.
We walked hand in hand for a while, letting the salty wind and quiet breeze wrap around us before calling a car.
This—this was what I needed tonight. Not the party. Not the noise or the people.
I needed him. And the wind.
I wasn’t that guy anymore.
That was such a fucking relief.