48|Rescue You
"Is this it?" Ray asked as we stared at the club.
I looked down at my phone to check. "This is where he called me from."
As soon as Nate ended the call, we rushed to get the next flight to Vegas.
I looked at my family. "I'll go alone."
"You sure?" Ray asked and I nodded.
"I think he would prefer that."
They didn't argue.
They knew how guarded Nate could get, especially now.
So they nodded, and I rushed into the club.
The moment I pushed through those doors, everything hit me at once.
There was a pulsing bass, flashing lights, and bodies grinding against each other like crazy.
I scanned the crowd, pushing past sweaty strangers and the haze of alcohol in the air.
My heart pounded harder with every step, hoping that he was still here.
Where was he?
Then I saw him.
He was at a table with his back hunched over.
There was a drink in one hand and-
My stomach dropped.
A line of white.
A rolled-up bill.
And Nate, my husband, rising slowly and wiping his nose.
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.
My chest began to tighten when I saw that whatever he was taking wasn't helping him.
All I saw was raw pain on his face.
This wasn't my husband.
This wasn't the guy I met at the library.
This wasn't the man who taught me how to love.
This wasn't the man who held me tightly at Eden's funeral.
This was someone else.
But he was still mine.
And I wasn't going to lose him.
I took slow steps toward him before I finally stood in front of him.
"Nate," I called out to him, but he didn't respond.
"Baby, wake up," I said as I crouched beside him, trying to lift his muscular body from the couch. "It's Naomi."
He mumbled something I couldn't understand.
"I'm taking you home," I said as I struggled to lift him up.
"No the fuck you're not," I heard behind me before I turned around to see an angry man with a girl glued to his hip.
He looked Vegas drunk.
"Excuse me?" I asked, already on the edge.
"You're not going anywhere with my boy," he said, trying to take my husband away from me.
"He's messed up right now. Doesn't even know where the fuck he is. And you're trying to drag him off to fuck him like that's okay?"
"I don't care if you're his 'boy'. I'm his wife," I snapped, yanking Nate toward me. "He's my husband and I'm taking him home, not going to 'fuck him'."
That stopped him.
His eyebrows shot up and the girl at his side gasped, laughing under her breath like it was a soap opera.
"Oh shit," he laughed and I glared at him.
"Are you responsible for bringing him here?" I asked. "I'm a lawyer and I will sue you for-"
"Naomi?" Nate muttered against me and my eyes widened.
"Nate?" I answered, hugging him tightly.
"Where am I?"
"You're at a club," I explained. "We're leaving."
I narrowed my eyes at the guy before taking Nate with me.
...
We were now in the hotel bathroom.
The lights were set dim.
Nate was slouched over in the tub, barely coherent.
I knelt beside him, dipping a washcloth into the warm water and gently running it over his arms, his chest, and his face.
His skin was clammy.
His breathing shallow but even enough.
His eyes were barely open.
He looked like someone who had been at war and lost.
I wrung the cloth out and wiped his brow again.
"I'm right here," I whispered, more to remind myself than him. "You're okay now. I've got you."
His lips parted slightly. "Naomi?"
"I'm here," I whispered again.
His eyes fluttered open for a second, confusion clouding them. "Are you real?"
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I nodded.
"Of course, I am."
"Then why am I seeing things that are not here?"
I swallowed hard and cupped the side of his face, my thumb brushing across his cheek.
"You've been through something no one should ever have to go through," I said softly.
"Your mind's trying to protect you the only way it knows how."
He didn't respond; he just stared past me.
Then suddenly, he was standing up and rushing out of the tub.
"Fuck this," he said as he quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and rushed out the bathroom.
"Nate-"
I scrambled to my feet and followed behind him. "Nate, where are you going?"
"I can't do this," he said, quickly grabbing his clothes. "Not sober."
"Nate," I called out of him, trying to stop him. "Would you just stop for a minute?"
He ignored me as he rushed to put on his clothes.
His eyes were darting all around the room as his breathing got harder.
"Nate-" I said, placing my hand on his arm, but he quickly pulled it away.
"Stop!" He snapped at me, and I flinched.
"I need you to stop. I need it to stop. I need the noise...the memories...I just want it all to stop!"
I gripped his face between my hands, forcing his gaze to mine.
"You don't need the drugs to make it stop," I said, firm but trembling.
"You need help. Real help. You need to stay. Please."
Even though his chest rose and fell like he'd just ran a damn marathon, his hands stopped moving.
Then his shoulders dropped.
And finally those stormy, tired grey eyes locked on mine.
We just stood there, and I couldn't help but smile.
Then eventually, he smiled a little tiny bit as his breathing slowed down.
He suddenly pulled me into a hug and I wasted no time in wrapping my arms around him.
I kissed his chest before pressing my face into his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know what else to do."
"I know," I said gently, running my hands through his damp hair. "But I'm here now, and I can help you."
He suddenly let go of me and stepped away.
"No."
I looked up at him. "No?"
He looked down before sighing. "I don't want you to help."
I stepped forward, trying to hug him again. "Nate, it's okay. We'll get through this-"
"No," he insisted, stepping further away from me. "You already went through this when we were in law school."
"All those sleepless nights, hospital runs, countless relapses," he said. "Me lying straight to your face."
He looked at me fully. "I don't want to put you through that again."
My throat tightened.
"But I love you," I told him.
"I know," he nodded. "I love you too, and that's exactly why I'm checking myself into rehab."
I blinked. "What?"
"There's a place up in Alaska that I'm going to tomorrow," he said.
My stomach dropped. "Alaska!? Why-why not New York?"
He stayed quiet.
"Nate?" I pushed.
"Because I don't want to be close," he finally admitted. "I need space...from you."
I took a step back as if he slapped me.
From me?
I scoffed.
If it's anything I should be the one saying I want space from him.
He raised his eyebrow. "You can't seriously have a problem with that, right?"
I suddenly remembered everything Kate said about him that night.
I clenched my jaw, trying to be calm for him, but my raging hormones didn't allow me to.
"Space from me!?" I asked. "You don't think you've hurt me too?"
He sighed. "If this is about me relapsing-"
"It's not!" I snapped.
"You just do things and ignore everyone's feelings, Nate!" I went off.
"You disappear, you go behind my back and make decisions I never asked you to do, and you never once tried to tell me anything!"
He clenched his jaw as he watched me.
"You know what?" I hissed. "Go to fucking Alaska!"
"Oh, don't act like you didn't watch me walk around like an idiot, searching for someone who didn't exist in the first place!" He snapped.
"You watched me go through all those sleepless nights, all the heartbreak of never fully knowing what happened to my mother," he continued.
"You let me spiral, Naomi! You let me drown in a story my six year old self created!"
"I was trying to protect you!" I shouted.
"No!" He shouted back. "You were trying to control me! Just like my dad."
"You don't get to decide what truth I can and can't handle!"
"Well, you obviously couldn't," I glared at him, my words bitter.
"Fuck you, Naomi," he bitterly snapped.
"No, fuck you, Nate!" I told him with pure rage before grabbing my bag and storming out.