Ten years ago, after a near-fatal OD, he promised Luke he’d never touch the stuff again, and what did he do? He broke that promise to both him and Sal. He failed the people he loves most in this world.
“Fuck,” he moans, burying his face in his hands. “You can’t tell, Luke. You can’t ever tell him.”
“I won’t.” Lacey’s eyes blaze with fire. With protection. “He’ll never know, Seth.”
He nods, dumbly. Alcohol clouds his vision, his thoughts. He smears a hand across his face, needing to pull himself together, but he can’t think. Exhaustion has him.
Lacey takes his shoulder, gripping hard with her manicured nails, and pulls him against her. The two of them lay back on the couch, Lacey’s arms wrapped tight around his chest.
“You’ll be okay,” she says, her voice as fierce as Seth’s ever heard. “I won’t let you be anything else. Do you hear me?”
“I don’t care about me,” he chokes out. “Tell me Luke will be okay.”
“I care about you.” Lacey kisses his brow. “And he’ll be okay.”
“Tell me until I believe, Lace.”
“Luke will be okay. He will be okay.”
She repeats it, like a vow, over and over again until her soft voice lulls Seth.
He closes his eyes at the feel of her thin fingers sweeping through his hair. He wants to tell her thank you, tell her he couldn’t make it through tonight without her, but he’s asleep before he finds the words to tell her what she means to him.