38. Laney
I stay in the hospital for three days.
The guys make sure I’m never alone. They take turns sitting at my bedside, holding my hand, getting me whatever I need, doing their best to make me smile.
I don’t know how much of their attentiveness is because they’re too worried to leave me alone, in case I do something stupid again, or if it’s just because they like being with me, but I appreciate it either way.
The consultant agrees to discharge me on the promise that I will make regular visits to my therapist. He wanted to put me on antidepressants, but I’ve resisted for the moment.
I’m not going to say I’ll refuse them forever—if I need them, then I’ll take them—but I want to see how my brain is coping first.
It’s as though I’ve been a slowly simmering pot that finally reached the boiling point, and then the suicide attempt allowed everything to overflow so that now I’m back to simmering again. The pressure has been released.
Or maybe it’s simply that I’ve allowed myself to give in and let Reed and the boys support me. I’m able to breathe again.
When the doctor announces he’s happy to discharge me—assuming I agree to stick with seeing my therapist—Reed takes charge.
“No more trailer, Laney. You’re coming home with us.”
I opened my mouth, but he holds up a hand to silence me.
“I won’t hear any argument about it. I’ll get Cade to bring your belongings over to the house.
Don’t worry, you’ll have your own room there, so you’ll get your privacy, too.
We won’t watch over you all the time. I know it’s only a short-term rental, and not exactly home, but you’ll be with us. ”
“Wherever you are is home,” I say, grateful to him for taking the choice out of my hands.
I wanted to prove I could hack it on my own, that I could stand on my own two feet, but I guess I can’t.
I need them more than I ever realized, and is there anything wrong with that?
Is there something wrong with needing the people you love to be in your life?
Surely that’s just natural at the end of the day.
I think of something. “What about the press? If they learn I’m living with the three of you, they’re going to have a field day. I don’t even want to think about the sort of stories they’re going to write. They’re going to make you look like a villain in a fairytale.”
“Fuck ’em,” Reed says. “Let them say whatever they want. We’re not doing anything wrong. I love you, and so do the boys, and we’ll shout it from the fucking rooftops if we want to. I won’t let anyone else make us feel ashamed for what we have, okay?”
My chest swells with love and pride…and even hope.
Maybe everything will be all right. I’m sure we’re going to get called some names in the press and online initially, but the noise will quieten down eventually.
It has to. Some celebrity will do something wrong, and they’ll all turn their attention toward them, and away from us.
I hold his hand, lift it to my cheek. Drink in the warmth of his skin, the familiar scent of him, and close my eyes.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I say softly enough that no one else will hear.
He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. “Anything for you, baby-girl.”
I give a little sigh of happiness, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, something akin to peace settles in my soul.
* * *
Later that day, they take me to the house.
I’ve been here before, of course, but never with the thought that this will be my home now, for however long we choose to be here.
In typical Riviera style, the place is gorgeous—all thick plush carpets, high ceilings and chandeliers, and granite kitchen tops.
The living room alone is about the size of my trailer.
I try not to feel any shame about the more than modest roots I’ve come from, but it’s not easy.
No wonder they wanted to get me out of there when I could have been staying here.
“We’ll show you to your room,” Reed says. “The boys have done it out for you.”
I open the door and snatch a breath. “Oh!”
Aside from the furniture, they’ve brought everything from the trailer here.
The lamp is mine, the rug and throws are mine, the pictures on the walls are mine.
All the little knickknacks from my childhood have been displayed on the dresser.
The bedding is from home as well. I have my own bathroom, which now contains all of the toiletries from the trailer—minus the pills and razor blade, of course.
Sitting on a shelf is the urn containing my mother’s ashes—the ashes I still haven’t been able to bring myself to scatter.
The room blurs as my eyes well. I clap my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back my emotions.
“Do you like it?” Cade asks worriedly.
Darius thins his lips. “Fuck, I knew it would be too much.”
I manage to find my voice, though it’s squeaky because I have to speak through the lump closing up my throat. “I love it. Thank you so much. I don’t deserve this.”
“Yes, you do,” Dax says. “You deserve the entire fucking world, if we could give it to you. The moon and stars, too. This is the least we could do.”
I turn to him and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms slide around my waist, and we squeeze each other tight. I only let go so I can hug Cade, and then Reed in turn. They’ve all done this for me, and I appreciate them all.
“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”
Cade throws me a wink. “I can think of a few ways, but we’ll let you get your strength back first.”
That evening, we eat around the dining room table. Reed has made a lasagna from scratch and served it with a big Cobb salad with ranch dressing. For the first time in what feels like forever, I seem to have gotten my appetite back.
Reed nods approvingly at my empty plate. “That’s what I like to see.”
I let out a sigh and place my hands across my now bulging stomach. “I needed that.”
There are still photographers lurking outside the front of the house.
I don’t want to speak to them, or even see them, but I also hate that they’re making me feel as though I have to hide.
Like Reed said, we haven’t done anything wrong—at least not relationship wise.
While society might judge us, we’re all consenting adults, and it’s not illegal.
We love each other, and what could be better than that?