“Because I’m worried about you, and I think I have a right to be.”
“Why, because I’m stocked up on generic over-the-counter medication?” She scoffs but swallows thickly. “There’s nothing for you to be worried about, Aaron. I know you’ve got issues with alcohol, and I get it, but I don’t go around pushing my personal choices on you, so you can’t go putting yours on me.”
“This isn’t the same thing, Teagan. My brother died because we were both too drunk to recognize that him going back outside to find his phone wasn’t a good idea. And while I’m working on making peace with that, I’m not going to put myself in a position where that could happen again. And this”—I motion to the boxes and bottles littering her comforter—“isn’t about me pushing my choices on you; this is me worried because I think you have a problem.”
She throws off the cover and tries to scoop up an armful of boxes. “I don’t have a fucking problem, Aaron. Just because I take medication doesn’t mean I’m fucking crazy! I moved to Pearl Lake so I could deal with my issues, which is a lot more than I can say for you. You’ve been living two separate lives for the better part of a decade and sleeping with all of those women on the other side of the lake so you don’t have to feel anything for anyone because you’re the one who’s too scared!”
This isn’t the rational Teagan I’m used to dealing with. She doesn’t do confrontation, and she doesn’t like conflict. It’s why she’s a yes person.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “I was living two separate lives, hiding one of them from my mother because I didn’t want to deal with the potential fallout. But I was only going to cause myself and her and the rest of my family a world of hurt if I kept it up. And the reason I saw that I needed to change it was because you came into my life, and I didn’t want to put you in a terrible position like that, where you were forced to keep secrets too. I wanted to be able to share you with them and them with you, and the only way I could do that was to finally deal with my shit. And it’s hard, Teagan. Really fucking hard, but this”—I motion to her defensive posture and the way she’s holding the fucking boxes like they’re her precious—“this isn’t you dealing with things. I think this is a Band-Aid for a bigger issue. You lied to me about your car. You were in an accident, and you tried to brush it off as nothing. Did you hit another car? What the hell happened?”
“I took a corner too fast, and I knew you’d overreact, so I didn’t say anything,” she snaps.
“You could’ve been hurt!”
“But I wasn’t. I’m fine. And you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to, which I knew you’d do,” she spits back.
I grab the back of my neck, willing myself to stay calm and rational, trying to decide if I’m overreacting or not. “Do you really believe that it’s not a big deal? Look at you, Teagan. You’re lying. You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack.”
“You attacked me the second I woke up!” She scrambles off the bed and rushes toward the bathroom. She throws the boxes she’s holding inside and slams the door shut, standing in front of it. “You know what? I don’t need this negativity or you putting a savior complex on me. I want you to leave.”
“Teagan, please. You have to see how dangerous this is. You could have been hurt. You could have hurt someone else, and let me tell you from experience, it’s not something you want to have to live with.”
“I’m fucking fine! I need to get ready for work, and you need to get out of my space.”
She tries to come back for another armload of pills, which proves my damn point. Especially when I step in front of her, blocking her way. “Let me help you,” I say softly.
“I don’t need help! I need you to get out! Get the fuck out!” She spins around, stalks to the bathroom, and slams the door behind her. I hear the click of the lock.
I can’t decide if it’s me overreacting or her. I don’t think it’s me, but I’m not going to get anywhere with Teagan when both of us are heated.
I grab my backpack and shove everything on the bed into my bag. If she wants it back, she’ll have to deal with me.
CHAPTER 24
HOW DEEP IS THIS HOLE?
Teagan
I feel like I’m trying to breathe underwater. My chest is tight, and my head is a mess of thoughts I can’t hold on to. I’m scared and angry. How dare Aaron come here and throw accusations around, telling me I have a problem, making me feel bad about needing help to manage.
I search the boxes and bottles on the floor for my Valium. I have to work today, and I won’t be able to do that if I’m this upset. I don’t understand why he would do this. We were great last night; he seemed like he’d had a good conversation with his mom. Maybe that’s what this is all about—maybe the conversation with his mom brought up fears and worries about what happened with Devon, and he’s projecting them onto me.
I’m grateful when I find the bottle next to my foot. I shake out one pill and count what’s left. I should have enough for a couple more weeks. Then I’ll have to call in a refill. Which is okay. I can make them last that long.
By the time I’m calm enough to get ready for work, I don’t have time for a shower. I wash my face and apply makeup, trying to keep my emotions in check so I don’t start crying and make my skin all blotchy. I also don’t have time to grab a coffee, and Aaron took my caffeine pills. I have one energy drink left, though, and that should get me through until lunch. I can make it until then.
I get in my car, not loving the new clunking sound that only happens when I’m in reverse. I keep reminding myself to breathe and relax all the way to work. I pull into Harry’s Hardware, and I’m halfway across the parking lot when I realize I’m not wearing my store shirt and that it’s not Wednesday, it’s Friday, and I’m supposed to be at Bernie’s. I arrive with five minutes to spare, which is a heck of a lot better than late.
My stomach is a mess, and I can’t seem to get a handle on how much my hands are shaking, but I manage to make it through the day. I know I’m off; I can see it in Bernie’s concerned gaze. He lets me go home an hour early, telling me to get a head start on my weekend.
When I get to my apartment, I realize I left my bed unmade, which is totally not like me at all. And I lost it on Aaron, also very unlike me. I’m half-embarrassed by the way I acted and half-angry that he would come at me like that before I even had a chance to wake up.