Tempted

I shake my head. Her son could be the one lying in the hospital from a drug overdose, and she wouldn’t care. It’s sick. They are sick. I have nothing left to say, so I turn and walk out.

46

Bailey

I’m staring out the window, watching the rain trickle down the windowpane, when I hear a low cough reverberate around the room. Pulling my focus away from the outside, I sweep my gaze over to the door where the sound is coming from. Harper stands there. Her body is stiff, unmoving, and I can see her chest vibrating through deep breaths.

“Can I come in?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for me to answer as she inches her way farther into the room.

“Hi.” My words come out sheepish. My teeth gnaw at my lower lip as I think of something to say, but I don’t know where to start. We spoke earlier today, but now, as every second passes, I’m at a loss for words.

“I-I’m sorry. I should have told you about Drew and me. I should have come to you instead of drinking. Instead of taking . . .” My words dry on my tongue. They feel heavy. It’s as though I have rocks in my mouth and can’t speak the words. “I’m just sorry.”

I apologized before, but there are not enough ways to say sorry to make up for what I have done. For what I have put her through, for what I’ve put my mom through. Even though I can’t remember, Harper was right; a test doesn’t lie.

If the test says I did drugs, then I did, regardless of whether I was too drunk to remember.

The night is a blur.

I was hurt, angry, and worse, wasted. I made not one but two awful decisions that night.

I can barely remember being with Reese, let alone doing drugs with him at his VIP table, but I’m sure that’s where it happened.

I feel sick to my stomach.

Regret sits heavy in my heart. As much as I try, I can’t remember, and it’s making me tremble with fear.

What if I had waited at home for Drew?

What if I never went to check on him that night?

I shake my head back and forth, refusing to let myself think about it. It didn’t happen.

Regardless of how hard I try to push the thoughts away, the damage is done.

Tears prick the backs of my eyelids and then slowly trail down my cheeks. My cold finger swipes across my face, wiping away the moisture that has collected.

Harper takes a seat in the metal chair adjacent to my bed and places her hand on my arm. “You okay, Bae? We need to tal—”

I start to shake my head because I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not when it’s still fresh. Not when it feels like a serrated knife has cut through my skin and pulled me apart, leaving me open and bleeding all over the floor.

“Bailey.” Her voice comes out more forceful than before, and I know we have to do this. “I think you need to hear him out.”

“I can’t . . .” Tears begin to come in earnest as I envision his body pressed against Monica.

“Bailey, it’s not what you think.”

“I know what I saw. I can’t look at him right now, let alone talk to him. I just can’t.”

“Listen to me. I’m not one to defend Drew, but he explained what happened.”

“He explained that he was about to have sex with Monica?” I bite out.

“That’s not what happened. She came on to him. She ambushed him, Bae. You just walked in—”

“I can’t believe you believed him. God, Harper. I saw her. I saw her naked!”

Harper’s eyes widen, her surprise evident. Guess he forgot to mention that tiny piece of information.

“Oh, did he not tell you that Monica the whore was butt-ass naked while kissing him?”

“No, Bailey. He told me he loves you, and you misunderstood.”

My heart starts to pound in my chest at her words. I shake off the feelings threatening to rise. “He doesn’t love me.” He doesn’t. “He cheated on me.” He did. I keep repeating those words in my head, trying to hold on to my anger. Anger is easier to handle. With anger, it’s easier to walk away, and I need to get as far away from Drew and his club as I can.

“I think you should hear him out.”

“No, absolutely not. I don’t care what you say. He doesn’t love me, so there’s no reason to see him.”

“If he didn’t love you, if he didn’t care, why is he paying for your—” She stops herself mid-sentence, placing her hand across her mouth to silence her words.

“Paying for my what?” Her hand quivers, but she doesn’t speak. “My what, Harper?”

She drops her hands, placing them on her hips, her chin turned up. “Your rehab, Bailey. Drew is paying for your rehab.”