If I can't trust her, that's it.
But it doesn't feel like it.
It feels like this is fixable. It has to be. I need her to fill that Iris shaped hole in my gut. Or I need to erase her from my mind.
One of them.
I don't know which.
"Oh." Her voice is soft. "Do you not… I… Uh…"
"Were you high?"
"What?"
"With me?"
"No. Never. That fight with Ross, it was about me going to rehab. I haven't touched anything since that. Since January."
"Look at me."
"I can't."
"'Cause you're full of shit?"
"No." Her exhale is heavy. "Because if you still hate me, I'm going to burst into tears, and I'd like to save that one scrap of dignity I have."
"Iris. I need you to look me in the eyes when you say it." I drag my fingertips down her arm. "Please." I want to believe her. I want to be able to believe her.
My fingers skim her shoulders.
Her hips shift. She presses her back into my chest. "Walker, I… I… Uh… What is this?"
"Look at me. Please."
Slowly, she turns to face me. Her blue eyes fill with vulnerability. She's hurting, yeah, but she's not lying.
"Tell me again."
"I haven't touched anything since before rehab."
"What did you use?"
"Heroin."
Fuck. I knew she'd say that. Deep down, I knew it. The place she got that tattoo—that's where Bree always had track marks.
But still, hearing it on her lips…
She takes a deep breath. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
"You want me to stay?"
"Yeah." I do. But then I don't.
I need her to be my Iris again.