That’s when I notice the jewelry box open in front of him. The velvet pouch is in Reyn’s hand, a small pile of pills gathered in his palm. My breath catches in my throat, our gazes meeting in the mirror’s reflection.
“Do you?” he asks, turning to face me. “Hate lying?”
I swallow heavily, all the blood draining from my face. Even now, just seeing the pills makes my heart skip a beat.
“You told me you weren’t taking pills anymore.” His voice is low and flat, those green eyes watching me, searching. “For the record? This is me, being mad at you.”
“I haven’t been.” The lie is heavy. Stupid. “I’m not—I’m not using. Those are just old.” My mind runs frantically, latching onto the first thing it sees. Apparently, that’s indignation. “And what are you doing digging through my stuff, anyway? Feeling impulsive? Trying to steal my things now? Is nothing off limits?”
His fist closes around the pills and he crosses his arms over his chest. “I was poking around, sure. But only because I was stuck in here.” His green eyes bore into mine. “I wasn’t going to take anything.”
“And I’m not using anymore.” Bitterness coats my tongue at the thread of anger in my voice. I exhale slowly, measured, trying to rein it in. “But, when you first got back, I’d had myself weaned down to two pills a day. Even that was…” I laugh miserably, looking away. “Such a fucking struggle, you have no idea, Reyn. Then we fell asleep that night at your house, and we started hanging out more, and we kissed, and now we’re…” I swallow. “We’re doing whatever this is. And it’s been… good. It feels good. It’s easier to do it now—to just stay away from it. Being with you makes my…”
“Your what?” he prompts when I stumble. His eyes are less harsh and he’s listening. Thank god he’s listening.
“It makes my craving for it almost like background noise. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about them until just now. It’s been a while.”
“But you were before?”
I beg him with my eyes to understand. “That night we recorded our confessions, I knew Emory would flip out, and he did. He lost it when we got home. But I was down to two, Reyn, and I know you don’t get it—how big of a deal that already was, but it’s true. Emory wouldn’t have seen that for what it was, either. I just needed some more time to step myself down to nothing, and I got it. I’m done with it now.”
He watches me closely then holds out his hand, revealing the pills. With his other hand, he opens the toilet lid. “Then toss them.”
The request hurts. It’s scary, the thought of not having them here like a life preserver—just in case. But the thought of losing Reyn over something stupid like this? I take the pills and drop them into the water. “There—happy?”
“Is that all of them?” he asks, catching my gaze. “Are there more in your room?”
I pause, thinking of how he’ll look at me when I begin pulling pills from my desk drawer. My shoeboxes. My purses. My nightstand. The lipstick tube he’d stolen back for me, all those weeks ago.
“No,” I lie. “That’s it. No more. I’m telling you, I’m done.”
I’ll get rid of the others later.
He closes the gap between us, tucking me into the curve of his body. I mold gratefully against his chest. “I’m just worried about you,” he says into my hair. “That shit is scary, V. I can’t stand the thought of you doing that to yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I should have tossed them before.” Tears prick at my eyes and I cling to him, panic gripping a tight fist around my heart. “Please don’t leave me.”
“What?” He pulls back and touches my chin, tilting it up for our eyes to meet. His eyes sharpen in alarm at the look on my face. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know.” The tears flow now and I’m powerless to stop them. “But I’ve spent so much time alone, I don’t know if I can do it again.”
“Hey, no, that’s not—” He tips forward to press a gentle, lingering kiss against my lips. “No.”
I sigh in relief, but cling harder. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry for going through your things. Sometimes, when things get bad, I just—I want to say I can’t help it, but that’d be a lie.” He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear and cups my face. “I get it, bad habits are hard to break. I’m not exactly a saint here. But if shit gets hard, you can tell me, okay? I’m not going to bail.”
“You, too,” I say, leaning into the touch. “When things get hard, when you feel like you need to take things, you can tell me.”
His lips meet mine a second time, and it feels like a promise. An absolution. An understanding that we both have these demons inside of us, and they’re always right over our shoulders, waiting for that perfect moment to twist us up.
For the first time, I feel like I may truly not be alone.
24
Reyn
“Put both feet on the ledge, crouch.” I whisper, keeping a sharp eye toward the road, “Sit, and then you’ll just ease off. I’ll catch you.”