She sits. Kicks off her heels. Pulls the covers to her chest.
"What did you take?" I ask.
"Does it matter?" She wraps her fingers around her arm. "Are you going to scold me too?" Her eyes narrow. We both know you don't have the high ground.
"Yeah. It's easy to overdose on certain things." I adopt my best I'm going to be a doctor, well, not that kind of doctor, but trust me, I know this shit voice. I move closer. "What did you take?"
"She's studying to be a shrink," he says.
"It was only one hit," she says. Like that makes it better.
But it does. To her. I know. I've been there.
"You drink anything?" I ask
She shakes her head.
I look to Walker. "She should be okay."
He nods. Motions to the door. "Go to sleep, Bree."
"Walker, I'm sorry. I want to be better. I do. I just…"
"Call me when you're sober." His words are weary. Like he's tired of repeating them.
He moves to the door, flicks the light off, moves back into the hallway.
I follow him downstairs and back to the car.
He rolls the windows down but doesn't turn the key. The breeze blows over my arms. Crickets chirp. The moonlight bounces off the hood.
He brings one hand to the steering wheel. "I don't want to go home."
"Me either."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
He nods. "You need to piss or anything?"
"I'm okay."
He nods, turns the key, puts the car in reverse. "I know this is a mess."
It is.
But it's not the mess he thinks it is.
* * *
I squeeze Walker's hand. I think up a million ways to explain this, then a million excuses to keep my lips zipped.
If I tell him, it's over.
But he deserves to know.
He deserves the truth.