Walking over to the edge of the bed, I watch her as she sleeps peacefully. Her face is soft and her breathing is steady. I run the backs of my fingers along her cheek, feeling her smooth skin warm against mine. I can finally look at her without the past fueling my hate for her. No longer do I want to cause her pain and suffering. No longer do I want to punish her.
Seeing her with her father helped stitch the wounds she inflicted with her deceitful ways. For the first time, I saw through all the walls she’s spent her whole life building and into the very core of who she is. Watching her with him, hearing their stories, and learning about who she was as a little girl suddenly made her transparent, and I could finally see the purity and softness that’s shrouded beneath years that have hardened her.
I let her sleep while I go into the closet to hang up my suit jacket, and when I go into the bathroom to splash my face with cold water, I realize I forgot to grab a hand towel. Turning off the faucet, I walk into the toilet room and pull a towel from the linen cabinet. That’s when I look down and notice something sitting in the bottom of the toilet bowl. I flick the light on to find it’s a tiny blue pill, half-dissolved in the water.
I go to her sink top and pick up her prescription bottle to confirm it’s the same pill.
She’s been lying to me.
I have to wonder why she’d flush the pill instead of taking it because she needs to be taking them every day.
Going back in the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed where she’s still sleeping. The dip of the mattress beneath me causes her to stir awake. Her eyes flutter open, and I handle her delicately. “You’ve been sleeping long?”
She looks at the clock on the bedside table and responds, “Not too long. How was your day?”
“Busy. What about yours?”
She sighs when she sits up and leans back again the headboard. “Same as the day before.”
“Did you remember to take your pill today?”
“Yes,” she answers with a curious look on her face. “Why?”
“You know how important it is that you take them every day, don’t you?”
Annoyance paints her eyes. “Yes, Declan. I know. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you taking care of yourself.”
“I am.”
“Then tell me why your pill is in the bottom of the toilet.”
Her eyes tick, widening for a fleeting second, but I catch it.
“Do you want to explain to me why?”
Her throat constricts when she takes a hard swallow, and she shakes her head slowly. She’s scared.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need you parenting me,” she snaps.
I harden my voice, demanding, “How long?”
“I’m fine. I don’t need them.”
“How long, Elizabeth?”
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself to take me on when she admits, “Since I got them.”
My teeth grit in an attempt to temper my anger, and when she notices my mood shift, she tries coaxing me. “Declan, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I am.”
“I heard you talking to someone the other night, but nobody was here,” I say, calling her out.
“What are you talking about?”
I stand and pace back a few steps as my irritation grows. “You were in this room with the door closed. You were talking to someone. Who was it? And don’t you dare feed me a lie.”
Her eyes dart to the corner of the room, and when I look over to the window where she’s focusing, the truth hits me.
Pike.
I turn back and take a few steps towards her. “What are you looking at?”
Her eyes, now rimming with tears, shift back to me.
“I need you to talk to me,” I plead as I sit back down on the bed next to her. “Is it your brother? Are you seeing him again?”
“Don’t lie to him.”
I’m completely caught. He’s going to run now that he knows I’m crazy and that I’ve been lying to him. Panic pangs through my body as Declan stares at me.
“Trust me, Elizabeth. Trust me enough to tell me.”
He scoops my hands into his, and I can see the worry pouring out of him.
“Is that who you’re looking at? Is he here?”
I close my eyes, scared of what his reaction will be, but I can’t hide from the truth he now knows. My hands tremble in his when I finally nod my head yes.
“He’s here?”
I nod again, and when I get the courage to open my eyes, I confess, “I need him.”
“Baby,” he breathes, cupping my cheek with his one hand. “You can’t do this to yourself. It’s not healthy, and I need you healthy.”
“But . . . he’s my brother.”
“He’s dead.”
I blink and the tears fall. “I know that. But I still need him.”
“Need me more.”
His words expose an insecurity I wasn’t aware of. I look into his eyes—really look—and I see what I’ve never seen before—self-doubt. The green in his eyes brightens in vibrancy, the effect of unshed tears that threaten to fall.
“I do need you,” I tell him.
“It’s not enough.”
“Don’t you dare choose me over him.”
I turn back to Pike as Declan keeps his eyes on me.
“This has to end, Elizabeth. You have to start taking your pills. I need you well.”
I don’t look at him when he says this, instead I stay focused on Pike as my tears fall.
“He’s right.”