“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he says. “Nelson touching her. Holding her down.” He fists his hands then releases them, as if he’s physically trying to let it go. “I know I’ve done everything I can for Molly. Getting rid of Nelson and telling the world I’m Noah’s father—that’s all I can do. But I can’t stop feeling so goddamned much. I wanted to stop.”
Panic tilts the Earth on its axis. I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and he’s hanging over the edge. All I can do is hold on tight, but I can feel him slipping. “We’ll get you help.” The terror is right there in my words.
He nods and steps forward, leaning his head against my shoulder. “Please. I’ll fight my way through the darkness for you. For our baby.”
I love Colton, and we may never have the happily-ever-after I once imagined, but since the day he saved me from his father, I’ve wanted to save him in return. I don’t know if we’ll see forever together, but if marrying him now is going to prevent him from throwing away the rest of his life, I’m going to do it. We’ll take it one day at a time. “You get the help you need, and we’ll get married, okay? No pills. No numbness.” No giving up on life.
He clings to me, and I close my eyes and hold him. He hasn’t held me like this in months. His arms wrapped around me, his big hand flat against my belly as if even now, in this most harmless environment, he’s compelled to protect the child growing inside me.
The best thing I can do for my baby is to get Colton healthy, and if it’s in my power to make that happen, I’m going to do it.
Levi
Thursday, August 30th
I jump down from the pull-up bar and put my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. I’ve been trying to work off this anxious energy for the last hour and a half. Trying to remind myself that if I give Ellie space, she’ll come to me. Trying to remind myself I had no right to touch her to begin with.
She’s having Colton’s baby.
“Levi?”
I straighten at the sound of her voice. She’s all I’ve been thinking about, and now she’s in front of me. She’s still in work clothes—today in a black wrap dress that clings to her curves and finishes mid-thigh, showing off her long, toned legs, and a pair of red fuck-me heels I’m dying to obey.
“Hey,” I say, trying to smile, trying not to immediately ask why she’s been ignoring my calls for the last four days. “Here to work out?”
She shakes her head. “I was hoping we could talk for a minute?”
I arch a brow. “Here? You wanna go get dinner or something instead?”
Another head shake. “No. I think it’s better if we . . .” She looks around the gym, and her message is clear. Better if we stay here. Better if we aren’t seen together in any context that might be considered romantic.
I grab my towel and wipe the sweat from the back of my neck, ignoring the dread tying knots in my stomach. “Okay. What’s up?”
She clears her throat and cuts her eyes away from me. “Colton didn’t sleep with Molly. They’re friends, nothing more. They really were just talking.”
I actually laugh. That sounds like a lie—the kind of ridiculous lie the asshole in the movie would feed his girlfriend. The kind Ellie would get pissed at the character for buying. “Really? That’s convenient.”
She shrugs. “I believe him.” She holds out a hand, and I see her ring. A diamond solitaire glitters in the overhead light and mocks me. My heart plummets right through my stomach and into the floor. Then
I’m falling too. My heart. My soul. My fucking everything just sinks into nothing. “He and I are going to get married. I’m going to help him clean up, and we’re going to make this work.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not your job to help him get clean.”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t it our job to help the people we love? To lift them up when they can’t lift themselves?”
“This is what you want? To marry him? Despite everything he’s put you through the last couple of months? Despite the way he makes you feel? You’re going to tie yourself to a man who’s let drugs ruin your life?”
“He’s your best friend. How can you talk about him like that?”
“Because I’m sick of his bullshit. I’m sick of his lies and his omissions.” Because I care about you more than I’ll ever care about him. “Just think this through, Ellie. Please.”
She wraps her arms around herself. “I have. This is what I need to do.”
I want to say, What about us? I want to ask her if she felt nothing when we were together. Instead, I swallow back my questions, grab my water bottle, and take a long drink.
“It’s for the best,” she says. “You’ll understand that eventually. And you and I? We were just . . .”
I pull the bottle from my lips, meet her eyes, and wait for her to finish that sentence. “Just what?”