Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
ANDY
I've always been able to tell when something terrible was about to happen.
Call it the calm before the storm.
Instinct.
A gut feeling.
I've always felt it before destruction hit.
It's the same feeling I have now as I walk into Adam and Damon's house. Declan has been staying here the past two weeks. When they got tired of getting up to open the door, Damon had a key made for me, so I've been letting myself in each time I come over—which has been often.
Declan has been out of the hospital for two weeks and doing great. Twice a week, I drive him to NA meetings and sit across the street at the café until he's done. After each meeting, he's in a better mood than when we left the house. He’ll soon be going to rehab. We’ve been waiting for a spot to open at the facility Benny recommended to us.
He's alive, his energy is high, and he's starting to remind me of the version of him that I met and fell in love with three months ago.
It's crazy to think that three months ago, we were strangers, and now he's everything to me. So much has happened in such a short time, but I believe in our love. I believe in us. Some days are better than others, and I'm not going to say that Declan and I have the perfect relationship, but we're trying every day.
He's fighting for himself to become sober, and I'm standing beside him.
I've been driving back and forth to Vegas to see him every day, and each time I leave, Max asks about him. She's so confused, but I've told her that Declan is sick, and when he's better, he'll be back home with us.
Since then, she has made him a get-well-soon card I bring to Vegas daily.
As for Diane, she received her three-month chip, and I've been enjoying getting to know her. Our relationship is still strained, but Declan had once asked me, How can you forgive one addict, but not the other?
I'd wanted to argue at the time, but then I realized he was right. I love two addicts, both in different ways.
I grew up with an addict for a mother, and now I'm in love with an addict that I'm trying to save.
The irony isn't lost on me.
Letting myself inside the house, I use my foot to shut it as I carry the newest get-well card from Max, along with two iced coffees that I grabbed on my way over.
Choosing to ignore the nagging feeling I've had all day, I force a smile on my face as I shift the second coffee to hold in the crook of my arm as I reach Declan's bedroom.
Grabbing the door handle, I twist it, and the moment I push it open, horror washes over me, the feeling of anger and dread seeping into every pore of my body.
Declan sits on the bed, a belt wrapped around his calf, a loaded syringe with dark liquid in it bit between his white teeth as he slaps at his ankle, trying to find a suitable vein to shoot up in.
I stand there stunned, fury consuming me as I watch him. I must make a noise because his head pops up, eyes wide as he stares at me with red eyes and blown pupils.
He's fucking high.
I want to scream because what the actual fuck? Here I am, driving two hours a day to support him. Meanwhile, he's not even trying.
What a fucking fool I am.
Walking toward him, I keep my face stoic as I set the coffees on his nightstand, along with the homemade get-well card from Max with a purple heart on the front that she proudly drew herself. As I set the card down, I notice the white powder residue left behind on the dark-stained nightstand.
"I'm done," I whisper, my eyes stinging with hot, angry tears. I turn to look at him, shaking my head in disappointment.
Carefully, he removes the syringe from his lips, sets it on the bed, and then stands, belt still wrapped around his bare leg.
"I'm sorry, baby." He whines, arms reaching for me, but I step away.
"How fucking long?"
"Baby, it's only sometimes. Just a little bit more before I quit. Come on, I promise. You know that I'll go once a spot opens up in rehab. I'm just getting it out of my system until then."
At this point, his excuses no longer surprise me. He's had one excuse after the other prepared, but I've been the dumbass who has believed him.
He reaches for me again, and I take another step back, furiously wiping away the tear that slips down my cheek.
Anger flashes in his dark eyes, his lip curling in a snarl. "Fuck you, Andy. You act like you're so fucking perfect. Looking down your nose at everyone who struggles because you're too perfect to ever have an addiction." I don't recognize the man in front of me. Right now, he's not the man I fell in love with.
"I'm done, Declan. You've broken my trust, and I can no longer do this." I throw my arms up in disbelief, my heart shattering as I continue staring at him through my teary eyes.
His shoulders sag, and when he reaches for me this time, I don't move or push him away. Instead, I let him hold me, trying to find safety in his familiar touch that used to set my soul on fire.
Instead, his touch feels empty, and when he kisses me, I can taste the lies on his tongue.
"I'm sorry, Mama. I fucked up. This is it. I'm done. I mean it."
Finding my voice through the overwhelming emotions threatening to suffocate me, I speak my words firmly, "Let me go. I warned you, and now I'm done. I mean it."
"No! You're not leaving me!" He collapses to his knees, arms wrapping tight around my waist.
"I love you, Declan. So fucking much. But I am not going to watch you self-destruct anymore." The tears I've been holding back spill over my lashes, trailing down my cheeks. "You'll never love me more than you love your addiction."
His arms tighten around my waist as he stares up at me from where he stands on his knees before me, eyes red-rimmed, tears flowing down his face. "Please, baby. I'm sorry. I'll change. You don't deserve this. I love you. I'll get help." He hiccups on a sob. "Please, don't leave me. I need you." He shakes his head. "You promised me all your tomorrows."
"There won't be a tomorrow if you don't get help." I inhale, my body aching with heartbreak. "You need help, Declan, but it's not my help you want. I can't fucking do this anymore. I love you too much to have a front-row seat to your downfall." He buries his face in my stomach, his shoulders shaking with sobs and his muttered pleas for me to stay.
"Please, baby. You promised you'd never leave me." He looks up at me through his blown pupils and tear-stained face. "If you leave me, I'll kill myself. I'm nothing without you, remember?"
"Dec, if you don't get help, you are going to die. Don't make me receive that phone call again. If you love me, you won't do that to me. Please, get some help. Not for me. For yourself."
"I'll do anything for you." His shoulders shake with his sobs. His tears seep through my shirt, forever staining my skin with the memory of this moment. "Whatever you want, I'll do it if you tell me you won't leave me."
With my eyes closed, I force myself to be strong, running my fingers through the greasy strands of his unwashed hair. How could I not have noticed before today that he's still using? Am I that blind, wanting to see the best in him, that I overlooked what was right in front of me?
The man before me is someone I don't recognize. The version of Declan I fell in love with would never let himself go this way. He would never be okay with his hair being greasy, clothes stained, and skin smelling of body odor from being unwashed.
It's been over twenty-four hours since I've seen him, and this isn't the man I left behind.
Despite the grease on my fingertips, I can't stop touching him. My hands grip any part of him I can reach, desperate for the comfort he once brought me.
"I love you," I say, emotion clogging my throat. "But I can no longer watch you kill yourself. One day, I hope you realize that you're worth more than this. I hope you choose to get help because you want to. That'll never happen as long as you believe this is what you deserve." His arms tighten around me as if he can sense I'm ready to pull away.
"You were worried you'd ruin me. You were right. You ruined me for any other man," I whisper, fingers trailing over his heated skin.
As tightly as he's holding me, desperate to keep me with him, I force myself away. He lets me go, remaining on his knees as he stares at me with a heartbroken look on his face that'll forever haunt me.
I stare back at him through my tears, forcing my legs to remain strong and keep my body upright despite the numb feeling that makes me want to buckle and fall apart. No matter how much I love him, I can't follow him down this path any further. I can't follow him into the darkness slowly consuming him.
There is something deeply broken inside of him, and until he's ready to talk about it, he's never going to heal and move on from this life.
His screams fill my ears, but I can't bring myself to turn around. I don't dare face him, afraid of what I might do if I see that heartbroken look in his eyes again.
In the end, it doesn't matter how much you love someone.
Love isn't enough to overcome addiction.
It will never be enough.