My pulse speeds up and I feel my fingers biting into Will’s arms, but I don’t think he notices. Not when he’s too busy trying to extract himself from my hold.
I snap my gaze to his face, but he still won’t look at me.
“Hey,” Mason says, approaching me. His hand brushes my shoulder and he turns so his mouth’s near my ear. “We’re gonna go grab a bite since we didn’t eat dinner. Why don’t you guys go upstairs?”
He slips me his copy of the keycard, knowing I forgot mine as usual.
Will turns away from me, bending down to get his bag. Hoisting it over his back like it’s the heaviest thing in the world.
He’s still carefully avoiding my gaze.
Mason tries to give me a reassuring smile when I turn to him, but it falls flat. “If you need us, just call. Okay?”
My stomach cramps.
It’s not me you should be worried about,I want to tell him.
But I get it. I’m the addict here, not Will.
I’m the one with a history of suicidal tendencies, not Will.
Bitterness rears up its ugly, foul head.
Will matters too.
Shawn draws near, eyes still trained over my shoulder, before finally finding mine.
“You asked him to come,” I say quietly, my voice shaking with some emotion I can’t place. I’m hoping Will doesn’t hear me. I don’t want him to think I’m mad.
Shawn doesn’t so much as bat an eye. “You needed him.”
My molars grind and I feel my nostrils flare.
Mason turns away, sliding his phone out from his back pocket as he gives us a moment.
“It’s better to need someone than to have no one to need,” Shawn says, his fierce gaze holding mine. “Trust me.”
My eyes burn as all I can do is stare unblinkingly at him.
He lets out a little sigh, nods, and goes to turn around.
Before I can think better of it or second-guess myself, I reach out and grab the hem of his shirt, taking care not to touchhim.
He can touch you, but you can’t touch him. That is the rule.
Halting mid-step, his shoulders bunch.
Holding my breath, I wait.
Finally, he turns his head just enough to look down at the arm extending toward him.
His gaze tracks it up to my face, eyes swirling with something dark I’ve only seen glimpses of.
“You’re enough for me,” I tell him roughly.
His eyes widen a fraction.
With that, I let go, step back and nod.