“Are you okay?” I asked, pulling her away from her thoughts.
She eyed me cautiously. “I was. I think. I don’t even know anymore.” She pushed off the wall and walked over to sit in the chair by the side of my bed. “I left the hospital when they told us you were going to be okay. I had every intention of not coming back. But my mind has stayed with your unconscious body in the warehouse, Austin. I see you lying there on that filthy floor, unresponsive every time I close my damn eyes. I haven’t been able to sleep since that night. I keep thinking that if Dylan hadn’t called me first, I wouldn’t have answered your call. Or what if I hadn’t been in Oak Island when I answered you. You would have died. My therapist—”
“Therapist?” I frowned.
“I’ve been seeing her since I left you. She’s been helping me understand everything. My childhood, my uncle, you, me, us… fuck, my life, I guess. She told me that I was the one that ran away from you. I would never be able to move on until we had closure or some sense of peace. It was then that I realized I never changed my phone number even after she told me I needed to. I knew… I knew in my heart that this was going to happen. Subconsciously, I had been waiting for it,” she paused to let her words sink in.
Peering around the room for a few seconds, battling a visible internal struggle in her mind. She didn’t have to tell me what she was about to say. I knew it from the moment I opened my eyes and saw her standing in front of me.
I said it for her instead, “You’re here to say goodbye.”
<>Briggs<>
We locked eyes.
Seeing each other's truths for the first time in two and a half years.
“Yes.” I nodded. “I can’t run away from you again. It almost killed me as much as it did you, the last time. I need to say my peace and walk away this time.”
“I’m going to rehab tomorrow. For the next six months. I’ll be there getting my shit together. Getting my head out of my ass and back in the real world. I guess both of us have some healing to do," he stated, grabbing the cup of water on his bedside table and taking a drink.
I didn't falter. “Why are you going to rehab?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, confused.
“Is it for your parents? Your friends? Me? At the end of the day you need to go there for you, Austin. Your recovery, your sobriety. It needs to be something that you want, not what everyone else wants for you. If you don’t want it, if your head isn't in the right place, all you’re doing is wasting everyone’s time. Especially your own. See, I learned that was the biggest problem in our relationship. You always got better for me, for us. Never for you. As much as I hoped and prayed that it would be enough, it wasn’t. It never was. I can’t want it for you. Your parents and friends can't want it for you. No one can. You have to want it for yourself.”
He took in every single word that came out of my mouth. Listening intently. I could see it in his eyes, he knew I was right, and that gave me hope for him.
“I saw you.”
I lowered my eyebrows, cocking my head to the side. Not understanding what he was talking about.
“With Esteban.”
I grimaced, jerking back stunned. “What? How?”
“Do you love him, Daisy?” he asked not answering my questions.
Staring deep into my eyes, willing me to answer him truthfully. Now was as good a time as any to get out what I've been holding in for so long.
“I went back to New York after I left our home. I lived with my uncle in the same penthouse I hated growing up in. I stayed there for a little over a month, trying to stand on my own two feet but still stumbling every time I stood. When I was ready to be on my own again, I moved into another condo he owned in Manhattan. I ran into Esteban at the park one afternoon, a little over a year and a half ago. It was nice to see a familiar face when I still felt so fucking lost. We went and grabbed some coffee together, and I ended up pouring my heart out to him. He sat there and listened to our sad story for three hours.”
I shook my head, remembering that day as if it happened yesterday.
“He was different but still the same, if that makes any sense. We exchanged numbers and said our goodbyes. For the first time in my life I had a friend that wasn’t you. One night a year ago we drank a little too much, and one thing led to another.”
He immediately shut his eyes, the hurt evident all around him. Radiating deep into my core. I hated knowing that I was hurting him. I hated knowing that he was probably craving to use. But I needed to tell him this. He needed to know.
As much as it killed me inside.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you. I swear the last thing I want is for you to leave here and go use, Austin.”
“Do you love him, Briggs?” he repeated with a hard edge to his tone.
“Does it really matter?”