I turn to face her, my eyes dropping to the little baggy of white powder. I step up to her and reach out, snatching it out of her fingers and pulling it up to my eyes. The little crystals are lumpy and only fill half of the little baggy. It’s enough, though, for someone to get quite a few hits off it. I look around Kate, and my heart sinks to see the open bedside drawer where Kate found it. My chest tightens, and I feel the desire to cry, about to explode. I really wanted to believe her. I had hoped my fears would be alleviated if I searched her room and found nothing. Then I could come to terms and accept that somebody was framing her. Now, I can’t do that.
Kate shakes her head and reaches out, running her thumb down my cheek. When she withdraws it, tears coat her finger. I reach up and wipe at the tears I hadn’t felt running down my cheeks.
“What else can you expect from a drug addict, Devon? You should just move in with me before she comes back. Owen’s going to move in with Donna, so you don’t have to worry about him. Gracie obviously doesn’t care about her sobriety. Which means she doesn’t care about you either. You need to put distance between the two of you so you can get over her.”
I thumb the little crystals in the bag and leave the bedroom without another word, going to the bathroom. There, I dump the drugs into the toilet and flush them down. When I return, sober from the silent crying, I face Kate standing in the middle of the living room.
“It’s just a relapse,” I tell her. “We can help her again.”
I locate my phone and swipe at my contacts.
Kate snorts in annoyance. “Are you fucking serious right now, Devon? She’s a goddamn drug addict. She’s hiding her drugs like a fucking teenager. Which means she knows what she’s doing. It isn’t just a relapse. If she wanted help, she’d ask for it. She’d try harder. She would actually care if she wanted help. She’s probably been doing drugs and shit again for months for all we know.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong, Kate.”
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my words, and she plants her hands on her hands. “Excuse me?”
“You’re wrong,” I repeat, knowing just how crazy I sound. “Gracie isn’t like that. This is just a relapse. We can help her.” I cross the living room and snatch up my keys, knowing exactly where I’m going.
I pocket my phone without calling Gracie’s dad. Not yet. I don’t want to tell him just yet. I need to talk to her first, to get her side of things. I know Gracie wants help; she doesn’t want to slip on purpose. I can feel it. That’s how well I know Gracie. Or at least, I’m pretty sure I still know Gracie so well. I want to believe I do. She fell into drugs and alcohol, which doesn’t mean she’s a different person. Entirely, anyway. She’s still my Gracie, the one I knew. The one I could always make laugh and buy chocolate for when she was on her period. Dark chocolate is her favorite. I know her. Owen knows her. We got her back once. We can get her back again. This is just a fucking relapse.
I pull open my van driver’s door, but a hand on my arm stops me, and I turn to face Kate. Her bottom lip is wobbling, desperation shimmering in her big blue eyes.
“Please, Devon, don’t do this. I’m your girlfriend. I am so much better than Gracie, and you know it.”
I breathe out and push the van door closed as I face her full on. “You are better than Gracie in the sense that you’ve had your life together. Gracie slipped when she wasn’t supposed to. Addiction is a disease, Kate—”
“It’s not. It’s a fucking choice, and Gracie chose to do drugs.”
I step towards her, glowering down at her. “She chose to start drugs, yes, but she didn’t choose to be addicted. That came after, without her consent. Addiction is a disease, and she doesn’t deserve to be shunned away when she can get help for it. Treatment.”
Kate rolls her eyes heavily and crosses her arms over her chest, scowling up at me with her head tilted back so she can see me full front. “She doesn’t deserve help if she chooses to do drugs and drink or whatever else she does.”
I shake my head haughtily, squaring my shoulders. “That’s where you’re wrong. Because if it was you, Kate”—I step even closer to her, closing in the gap between us just a bit more—“I would do the same for you. I would get you help, time and time again just because I care about you.”
Her jaw sets, defining the lines around her mouth as she tries to keep her composure as best as possible. “You’re in love with her.”
It isn’t a question this time. I don’t respond; I don’t need to. Kate and I both know the truth.
“You were never going to marry me, were you?” she asks softly, looking down at her hands.
My eyes flicker down to the magazine she’s still gripping in her left hand, clasped in her hand tightly, rumpling the pages. I close my eyes for a moment, putting together the words delicately, so I don’t upset her too badly. I open my eyes again and reach out with my free hand, brushing my fingers across her cheek.
“No,” I admit, and I feel a jab in my heart. It isn’t as bad as the pain I’d felt slash through it when Gracie had walked away from me, though, so that’s a plus. “I’m sorry, Kate. You’re a wonderful woman; any man would be lucky to have you. But I can’t marry you. I can’t be your husband or the father of your kids. I can’t buy a house with you. I’m not the man for you, but there is a man out there who would die to give you everything you want. You don’t deserve to keep being strung around by me.”
She nods, a shaky smile quivering the corners of her lips as she pulls back and out of my reach. “I want it to be you, though.”
“I’m sorry,” I say gently. “You are a wonderful woman, Kate, but I can’t be the man for you.”
Kate juts out her chin, glaring at me, balling up her fists at her side. “What’re you going to do then, Devon? Go confess your love to Gracie and beg her to stop using drugs?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kate. I really don’t.”
Kate licks her lips. “You’re supposed to be a fucking therapist, Devon,” she accuses, her eyes narrowing on me.
“Doesn’t mean I know everything,” I tell her, trying to keep sudden anger out of my voice. She’s trying to grip to threads that are loosening quicker by the moment. “Why don’t you go get your stuff packed, and I’ll take you home when I get back?”
Kate sniffles, squaring her shoulders. “No. I’ll just call my brother to come and get me. You probably shouldn’t come back tonight to be on the safe side, so he won’t beat your ass.”