36. Evangeline
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
evangeline
Here is sucking empty
A slipping memory of your skin
Here are fingers curling inward
Seeking the source of sin
F or the first time in my adult life, I lie my way out of Sunday brunch, texting my mom that I have food poisoning. When she immediately calls me, I don’t answer.
Can’t talk. Puking
Honey! do u need anything? Electrolytes? Saltine crackers?
I’m good.
Okay. I’m so sorry. Just say the word and I’ll be there
Thx momma. Love you
I put my phone on the nightstand and flop back on my bed, wishing I actually were sick and my mom could come over, rub my back, and tell me everything will be okay—and I was still young enough to believe her.
I wish, too, that I had the guts to tell her the truth. That I’m not the levelheaded, confident, responsible daughter she thinks I am. I’m an insecure mess who’s afraid of the dark. Afraid of everything, including love.
Turning my head on the pillow, I suck in Wilder’s fading scent.
Sometime during the night, while chugging tea and journaling with every light in the house on, the inferno of anger and betrayal in my chest cooled to embers of regret.
I can’t stop thinking about what my reaction blinded me to in the moment. The soft, adoring expression on Wilder’s face when he asked me to come with him. His boyish excitement at the idea of us performing together again. His confusion, horror, and impassioned apology after I flipped out.
He really did speak without thinking, the words coming straight from his heart. My reaction, on the other hand, came straight from the fear center of my brain. The part of me that refuses to let go of who he was and accept him for who he is now— again .
Wilder isn’t the same man he was three years ago or even six years ago. Every day of the last month and especially the last two weeks, he’s proven that fact. Despite his insane pre-launch schedule, I never once felt like an afterthought. He texted me constantly throughout the day: quick hellos, selfies and videos of him and the guys, annoyingly funny memes about Taurus women, unfinished song lyrics, X-rated promises… And every night, no matter how exhausted he was, he found his way into my arms.
He’s changed.
I’m the one who’s stayed the same.
How long will I make him suffer for my inability to let go of the past? How long before he decides he doesn’t want to walk on eggshells anymore or deal with my overthinking, insecure, moody self?
I owe him an explanation. An apology.
We were already planning to spend the afternoon together, his first in weeks with nothing on the schedule.
I’ll surprise him with coffee.
Or better yet, a burned bagel.
I’ll tell him the truth—open up to him about my insecurities like he’s opened up to me about his anxiety. We’ll get over this speed bump like we have others. And someday, we’ll have a smooth road to walk.
Smiling to myself, I push to my feet and head to my bathroom to do something about my frizzy hair and eye bags.
* * *
A pajama-clad Eddie answers the front door. Shoving the drink carrier and bag of bagels into his arms, I rush past him into the house. He blinks at me in wide-eyed surprise, green mohawk soft and flopping over his right ear.
“There’s a coffee for each of you,” I say as I face the mirror in the entryway and try to fix my hair after the wind massacred it on the walk up from the curb. “I already drank mine. Bagels are in the bag. I got a variety, so have whatever you want, but leave an Everything for Wilder, okay?”
Eddie makes a strangled sound.
“Eva?” Jax stops beside his brother, looking from his full arms to me. His mouth hangs open. “Did Wilder know you were coming over?”
“Nope. It’s a surprise.” I jerk my head toward Eddie. “Coffee and bagels. Is Wilder still sleeping or something?”
Please tell me he’s still in bed.
Jax clears his throat. “Actually, he, uh… He’s not feeling great. Should I tell him to call you later?”
My hands still, then sink to my sides. A fluttering sensation takes up residence in my throat. I face the men, finally absorbing their expressions. Eddie is unusually pale. He swallows convulsively, his eyes flickering to his brother every few seconds. And Jax looks like I caught them burying a body.
I try to swallow and choke. Cough to clear my throat. Drag in air that burns .
Footsteps pound down the stairs at the back of the house. “Did I hear the doorbell?” calls Zander. “Please tell me it’s my food and not another psycho ex-girlfriend.”
My ears ring.
Eddie closes his eyes.
Jax flushes.
Zander appears in the hallway past the kitchen. When he sees me, his eyes bug out. “Oh, shit.”
My vision distorts like I’m underwater.
“It’s not what you think,” Eddie says quickly.
My hearing wanes like someone cranked the world’s volume down. All three men are talking, but their voices are muffled. Wah-wahah-wahh. I touch my ears, half-expecting to find them plugged. They’re not.
Suddenly, my senses turn back on.
“Tell her, Jax,” snaps Eddie.
“It’s the right thing to do,” murmurs Zander.
Jax drags a hand over buzzed blond hair, his heavy sigh the hissing descent of a guillotine. I lock my knees. My armpits prickle. Each of my short, fast breaths is sandpaper against the silence.
Jax takes a step toward me, eyes radiating sympathy.
“Just say it,” I croak.
“He’s not cheating on you. He’s…”
The guillotine pauses.
“He’s what?”
What the fuck could be worse than cheating on me?
His expression hardens with resolve. “You know what? Screw this. I’m done covering for him. Follow me, Eva. You deserve to know.”
He turns and walks down the hallway toward the stairs. Muscle memory takes over, operating my body for me. Eddie gives me a wobbly smile as I pass him. Zander keeps his head down.
One step. Five steps. Ten. Down the hallway to the end.
Wilder’s bedroom door is cracked. Voices come from inside. Kendra’s. His .
Jax grabs my sweaty hand and pulls me to the wall beside the door.
“—really believed you’d snap out of it, Wild, but I’m done waiting. You have to choose. Me or her.”
“Her.”
Kendra laughs shortly. “What happens when she finds out, huh? You think Miss Perfect will accept this?” A weird, rattling sound follows.
Wilder sighs. “No, I don’t.”
A foot stomps. “Then why are you torturing yourself? Torturing me?”
“For the last time, this isn’t about you. If you want out, fine. I’ll find someone else.”
She sniffles, her voice softening. “Do you really feel nothing for me?”
“I’m not doing this with you again. You don’t love me, Kendra. You only think you do.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel!”
Wilder groans. “Just go.”
“I was your girlfriend for over six months. I kept your secret and protected you from everyone trying to pull you down.” She laughs again, low and caustic. “You think she’ll protect you? Lie for you? No fucking way.”
“This conversation is over.”
There’s a loud slap, then Kendra bursts into tears. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Make it make sense, Wilder. Please.”
“You’ll never understand,” he says tiredly.
There’s a long pause.
“You’re right,” she finally says, her cutting tone disturbingly at odds with her tearful outcry of seconds ago. “I’ll never understand you throwing me away for a snotty, virginal bitch who’s so fucking stupid she can’t tell you’re a full-blown junkie. Find another supplier for your Oxy, Wilder. I’m done with you.”
If he replies, I don’t hear it over the high frequency sound of my heart being cleaved down the middle. My knees give out. Jax’s arm bands around my waist, his quick reflexes all that save me from hitting the floor.
The bedroom door swings open and Kendra strides out. She jerks to a stop at the sight of us, her mascara-ringed eyes widening with shock. Just as fast, they narrow, gleaming. A slow, vindictive smile curves her lips.
“Whoopsie,” she whispers.
Flipping long, dark hair over a shoulder, she sashays down the hallway and out of sight.
Full-blown junkie.
My dad was right. And Kendra was right, too—I’m so fucking stupid. My hands curl into fists. Dimly, I register pain signals as my nails cut into my palms.
I defended him to my parents, to Lily. Spent weeks suffocating my own instincts in order to trust him. Tormented myself with self-doubts. Convinced myself I was the problem.
Nothing was real.
“Do you want me to stay?” Jax murmurs.
I shake my head and straighten. His arm falls away as I face the open doorway. The curtains in Wilder’s bedroom are pulled aside. Sunlight fills the room, but I don’t see or feel it. I’m a vortex of dark, bitter cold. But I’m not afraid.
I embrace the dark.
I walk a few steps into the room and stop. Wilder sits at the foot of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He rocks slowly back and forth, fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair. He looks like he’s in pain.
I feel nothing.
“Kendra, I told you—” He looks up and gasps. The blood drains from his face, turning his golden skin sallow. One cheek stays slightly red from Kendra’s slap.
I wish she’d punched him. Broken his perfect nose or split his perfect lips.
Now that my denial has been stripped away, I see the signs clearly. Both in the present and in retrospect. Eyes that are more brown than green and slightly glazed. Eyelids a touch too heavy. Pupils that are either extremely constricted or huge. Right now, they’re far too dilated for the brightness in the room. Sweat beads on his forehead. Goosebumps coat his neck and bare, trembling arms.
A word comes to me: dopesick .
He’s withdrawing and needs a fix.
Bile coats my throat, my body clenching against an overwhelming feeling of violation. All the times he was inside me, told me he loved me, while I had no idea he was high. Sudden bouts of sleepiness blamed on his schedule. Random errands and not answering his phone. Not looking me in the eye. Manipulating me into thinking he’d changed, that he had no secrets from me. Encouraging my vulnerability while he lied.
Lied.
Lied.
Wilder stands. A small prescription bottle rolls across where he was sitting, and he shifts to block my sight of it. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he says weakly.
“Don’t bother.” My voice is empty. As cold as the endless dark inside me. “I heard everything.”
“Fairy, please. Let me explain.”
“I’m not your Fairy. I’m not your anything . We. Are. Done.”
His chest convulses. “Please,” he whispers. “I’ll go to rehab. Right now—today. I can fix this. I can change.”
Cracks spread through my frozen core, but it’s not sympathy that fractures me.
It’s rage.
“I don’t care what you do,” I snarl. “I’ll never forgive you or trust you again. Do you hear me? We’re through. You’ve lied to me for weeks, but the worst thing you did was make me believe you loved—” Stabbing pain in my chest takes my voice. My vision blurs with tears.
He moves toward me. I scramble backward and collide with the doorframe. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
Features contorting, he falls to his knees. “I d-do love you, Evangeline,” he says through wracking sobs. “More than anything. P-please, please don’t leave me.”
“This isn’t love, Wilder. This is manipulation. You only love yourself and whatever’s in that bottle on the bed. You disgust me. I hate you. I fucking hate you!”
I don’t realize I’m shouting until gentle hands capture my shoulders from behind and Jax says, “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go.”
He pulls me out of the room and down the hallway.
Behind us is a guttural scream.
I feel nothing.