He shakes his head but doesn’t raise his face to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, this time giving in to my emotions and saying it through a sob wrenched from the depths of my soul. “I’m sorry for everything.”
He sniffs and raises his head, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. “You need help, Lilah.”
He meets my gaze with determination because we both know my answer to his declaration will either be the bedrock or the quicksand that we rebuild our friendship on.
I squeeze my eyes shut and nod.
There’s no way I can go on like this. The constant pain is too much to bear, and the fact that I’m inflicting that same pain on him will be my undoing. I need to deal with my issues instead of running or pushing them away with sex and drugs. Rather than avoiding feeling anything at all, I need to be willing to fight my demons in order to truly live my life.
“Will you get help?”
The thought absolutely terrifies me. I’ve been to a few NA or AA meetings over the years when I thought I wanted to try to better myself, but they never stuck. The idea of being isolated somewhere, unable to interact with the outside world and talking about everything that’s wrong with me in front of a bunch of strangers, isn’t appealing.
But neither is the idea of living with this feeling of worthlessness and shame forever.
“I will,” I answer.
Relief floods his features. “I’ll make some calls and get you into the best place possible. I promise.”
I open my mouth to argue that he doesn’t need to do that—he’s already done so much—but I don’t. I can give him this one small thing because it will make him feel useful.
“Thank you.” I yawn, trying to keep my eyes on him. It’s been so long since I’ve been with him.
“You need to rest. I’ll make some calls, but I’ll be right here when you wake up again.”
I nod, and the weight on my eyelids becomes too much and they drift closed.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Lilah
It’s been a week since I woke up as weak as a newborn calf.
Today I leave for rehab.
I process that realization for a moment.
I’ve almost bailed about a hundred times. All I want is to disappear out the front doors of the hospital and return to my old life. Then I look at Jimmy and the reasons why I won’t surface.
I need to do this for myself or there’s no chance of me getting clean. I understand that fact. I really do. But right now, I’m going for Jimmy, because I can’t see again the pain I caused him when I woke up in this hospital bed.
House of Carlisle fired me. I expected it, but it stung just the same. Jimmy tried to keep the news from me, but sobriety is refreshing in that I notice what the hell is going on. Not to mention if I have a chance of getting straight, he can’t hide things from me.
Jimmy knocks on the bathroom door, drawing me from my thoughts. “Lilah, there’s someone here to see you.”
“I’ll be right out.”
I pull my shirt over my head and smooth out my hair. It looks as good as it’s going to using hospital shampoo and conditioner. I debate putting it up but decide to leave it down. Photographers always said positive things when I had it down. I want to make a good impression on the woman escorting me to the rehab facility in Utah. Maybe she’ll cut me some slack if I’m put-together when she meets me, instead of looking like the jittery, nerve-racked girl I am.
Drawing in a calming breath, I open the door and step into the hospital room, where Jimmy speaks in low murmurs to a woman in her mid-fifties. I can tell she dyes her short auburn hair, because no one has a natural color that shade of maroon. I’m guessing she’s a little shorter than I am, based on her height in relation to Jimmy, and she focuses with great concentration on whatever Jimmy’s telling her.
The light thump of the bathroom door hitting the door stop draws their attention, and they turn in my direction. The woman splashes on a big, positive smile, giving the “we’re all in this together” impression, while Jimmy can’t stop fidgeting in the chair. A trickle of cold sweat travels down my spine. The time has come to deal with my shit.
“Lilah, this is Ruth.” Jimmy motions to the woman.
She steps forward with her hand outstretched. “It’s good to meet you, Lilah. I’m going to be accompanying you to Desert Vista in Utah.”
Why do they always try to make rehab joints sound like country clubs? There’s no spa with daily massages. Not even a tennis court.
I shake her hand. “Hi.”
“We need to leave soon in order to catch our flight. Do you have everything you need?”
“I don’t know. Any chance you have some weed or opioids in your purse?” I say, trying to lighten the weight in the air, but it falls flat.
Jimmy cringes, though I can tell he’s trying not to, and Ruth’s lips tip down at the corners.
I’ve already disappointed both of them.
I peer down at my shoes. “I was just kidding.”
“It’s okay. I know you’re nervous and scared. That’s completely normal, and everyone deals with it in their own way.” Ruth’s voice is soft and nurturing. I think she must have kids, because a woman who has a voice that calming should definitely have kids they tuck in at night.
“Ruth, do you mind giving us a minute to say goodbye before you guys leave?” Jimmy asks.
“Sure, I’ll wait out in the hall. But don’t take too long.”
He nods and waits until she closes the door before he eats up the space between us. “I’m so proud of you.” He puts his hands on my shoulders.
His touch feels so good, so comforting, that my eyes drift closed, and I nod. We haven’t discussed what led to our falling out, the things he said to me or my behavior. There’s been a silent understanding that we’ll deal with the issues between us after I’ve dealt with my own. I’m just thankful for his support. I have a clearer head than I have in years, but I fear the urge to numb myself will forever be the beast clawing at my back.
“I know you can do this,” he continues. “I know you can. You just need to believe that yourself, okay?”
I open my eyes, and unshed tears burn at the corners. “I’m scared.” Terrified really, but I don’t need to put more weight on Jimmy’s shoulders.
His hands slide down my arms, and he grips my hands. “I know. And that’s okay. That means you’re ready to get clean.”
I nod. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m too broken to fix? What if the pieces don’t fit back together?”
Full-on tears run down my face as I voice my biggest fear.
He pulls me into a hug and lets his warm arms do the convincing that he believes I’m strong enough and that I will be put back together. His grip around me is like a vise, and I sense that my leaving might be hard for him too. At least I can hope.
There’s a knock on the door and Ruth peeks her head in. “We have to go, Lilah.”
Jimmy pulls away, and emptiness rises inside me. “You got this, Lilah. I believe in you.”
“Will I be able to talk to you?”
His chocolate eyes soften. “I’ll be there whenever I’m allowed. But I don’t think that will be for a while.”
“Okay. You promise you’ll be there?” I hold out my pinkie finger.
He glances at my hand with a melancholy expression, but he doesn’t hesitate to link his pinkie finger with mine. “I promise.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead.
A soft knock sounds on the door again, and Ruth pushes it open slowly. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get going if we’re going to catch our flight.”
“That’s okay. She’s ready,” Jimmy says.
I’m glad he believes in me, because right now, ready is the last thing I am.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Jimmy
It’s been a month since Lilah went to Desert Vista—the longest thirty days of my life.
Every time my phone rang, or a text c
ame through, my stomach dropped, anticipating someone notifying me Lilah had bailed on rehab. But she is still here. That has to be a good sign.
Today is the first day she’s allowed visitors, so I’m here.
My palms are sweaty, and my heart is racing. Will she be different? I’m so used to seeing her half-fucked on pills or alcohol that I hardly remember what she’s like sober. Maybe she’ll refuse to see me? Maybe she’ll hate me now for what I did.
Those thoughts kept me up all night in that dingy hotel room. A decade ago, it would have felt like the Ritz. I’ll blame the bags under my eyes on the lumpy bed and pillows, but truth is, I’m terrified we won’t be the same Jimmy and Lilah.
I walk through the doors of a rehab facility that specializes in helping addicts who have a history of childhood trauma. I did research before deciding on where to send her. If she was gonna have any shot at success, it had to be a place best suited to her needs.
It’s disguised as an oversized contemporary dwelling in the middle of the Utah desert, but the inside is spacious and decorated with ivory, beige, greens, and blues. It has a rustic Sahara vibe. Calming music pipes throughout, soft enough that it’s not intrusive.
I step up to the woman behind the desk. “Hi, I’m here to see Lilah Robbie.”
“You must be Jimmy.” She extends her hand, a big smile on her face.
“I am.” I shake her hand.
“Lilah’s looking forward to seeing you.”
I smile and nod, not familiar with people calling me Jimmy, not James. They’re so different from one another.
“She’s waiting for you in the reading room. Straight down the hall, and it’s the last room on the right.”
“Great, thanks.” I start to head down the hall but turn back to her. “Is there anything I should or shouldn’t say today? I don’t want to set her back or anything.”
She tilts her head, and a soft smile forms across her lips. “You can say anything you want. Part of these visits is allowing the real world to intrude a bit. She needs to learn how to deal with her emotions in a productive way and interacting with the people she’s hurt in the past is part of that. We’ll be here after you leave to help do that.”
I nod then make my way to the library. All I wanted to know was if it’s okay to ask about her treatment and therapy or if I’m supposed to ignore the pink elephant in the room?
My footsteps echo as I walk over the hard tiles. I pass a dining room, where people sit around the table and play a board game, but other than that, I see no one.
Sweat breaks out on my temples as I reach the end of the hallway. I inhale a deep breath and prepare to see Lilah. I’ll admit it’s been nice this past month to know she’s safe every night when I go to bed. The worst part of her addiction was the questions that plagued me when she wasn’t around. Where she was, who she was with, did she need me?
Now new questions set me on edge. Will she be pissed that I sent her here? Will she blame me for setting her on this road in the first place?
I push a hand through my hair, draw my shoulders back, and step into the library.
She sits on a chaise lounge with her back to me, facing a large window that looks out over the burnt-orange rock formations jutting up on the horizon. The room is lined with white bookcases full of books of varying colors and sizes.
I’m mesmerized. Only a few steps away from her. A soft, contented sigh escapes my lips, making her turn toward me.
My chest clenches when I see her face. Our eyes lock and my stomach knots until she smiles. It’s small and tentative at first, but it grows the longer we soak one another in. Tears fill my eyes. She’s as beautiful as always. Her face rounder, her body healthier, her skin tone rosy. I haven’t seen her like this since… well, ever.
She walks quickly toward me, and I anticipate her running into my arms. But she slows and stops in front of me, her hands clasped, and looks at her feet.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” She glances at me and I can’t get enough of her healthy glow.
I told myself to let her lead today. Don’t suffocate her. But I can’t hold myself back—I pull her into a hug. “C’mere.”
Lilah expels a big breath of air and wraps her arms around me, squeezing tightly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
I relish the simple fact that I can touch her again, feel her, that she’s here with me, living and breathing. I know the statistics. Most addicts relapse. But hope blooms inside me like a small seedling bending toward the sun.
When we pull apart, her eyes glisten, but tears never fall. “Come over here and sit.” She leads me by the hand to the oversized chaise she was sitting on.
The novel she was reading is discarded to the side. I don’t think I’ve seen Lilah read a book since we were young. Thinking back, I don’t think I’ve seen her pick up a book since before…
Shaking my head to purge that thought, I sit beside her. “Are you reading again?”
Her cheeks flush. “Yeah. It’s one of the few activities we can do here with our free time.” She shrugs. “I forgot how much I like escaping into other worlds.”
I wrap her hand between mine. Now that I’m near her again, the impulse to touch her is too much for me to ignore. “What have you been doing here?”
“The first couple of weeks were tough. Physically. I never want to go through withdrawal again. They’re getting easier, but it’s a different game now. It’s mental.” Her lips tip down at the corners.
I squeeze her hand. “That’s okay. You can do it.”
She exhales a rough breath. “I’m trying. I really am.”
“I’m so proud of you. I can’t say that enough.”
“I do, I do know that. To be honest, I came here because you believed in me.” She lets a sad sort of laugh escape. “I’m trying to make myself proud now. Believe in myself.”
I hoped for so long to hear her say words like that, and I can’t help but do a happy dance inside. All the times I thought she’d die and never understand who she could be without the drugs… “How is it going here? How’s therapy?”
She pushes her hair behind her ears. “Excruciating.”
I frown.
“It’s okay. The first few weeks, I wasn’t willing to really open up. You know, go as deep as they want you to. But they helped me understand that if I was here, I might as well do the work. I’m tired of hurting all the time. And this process is painful—more than that really—but I keep telling myself that once I’m on the other side of it, it’ll be easier to resist the urge to use again. I’ll be able to stop self-medicating.”
This is a whole new Lilah. One I’ve never known.
“That’s great, Lilah, really.”
“Enough about me. Tell me about what’s going on in the real world. How is filming going?” She crosses her legs and wiggles to get more comfortable.
She’s never really asked about my day, and when she did, there was no eagerness to hear the details.
“We just wrapped actually. I think it’s going to turn out well.”
“You’re going to be an A-lister soon… just remember the little people.” She smiles and giggles. Is she genuinely worried I’d leave her behind?
I cup her face. “I’m never going to forget you, you know that.”
Her shoulders sag in relief. “Guess you’re stuck with me then.”
“Guess so.”
Our gazes hold for a moment before I let my hand drop.
We chat for a bit about what else is going on in the world, mostly mundane stuff, before a man pops his head into the library.
“Lilah, group session is starting in a few minutes,” he says.
“Okay.” Sadness blankets her features.
“Guess I have to go.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Thanks for coming all this way to see me.”
“You don’t need to thank me. How much longer do you think you’ll be here?” I ask.
“I wanted to ask you
… they gave me the option to stay another thirty days, thought I could use it. But…” Her lips straighten.
A proud smile stretches my lips. “Whatever you need. As long as you want.”
“Thank you, Jimmy. I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about that.” I’ll continue to pay as long as she’s getting the help she needs.
“I’m sick of being stuck here, but I know it’s what’s best.”
“I’ll be here waiting when you get out. Whenever that is.”
We stand and she steps forward wrapping her arms around my waist. I rest my chin on her head, close my eyes, and inhale her scent.
I didn’t tell her what I wanted to today. Maybe next time. She’s so at peace, I can’t bear to strip that away from her. But one thing’s for certain—if we’re ever going to move on with our lives, we need to make peace with the past. Lilah’s doing her part. I’ll need to do mine.
Chapter Thirty
LIlah
It’s been four weeks since I’ve seen or talked to Jimmy.
The past month has been so painful at times that it’s hard to stay with these memories. My walk down memory lane isn’t a fond one. A mother who died when I was young, a father who abused me, growing up dirt poor, my own sexual escapades over the years and… the one thing I’ll never discuss with my counselor.
I never will.
That secret goes with me to my grave.
It’s the least I can do.
I’m making progress though. And that’s something. Hell, that’s something I haven’t done in more than a decade. Baby steps.
Jimmy’s visiting today, and I’m giddy like a little girl waiting in line to see Santa Claus. Every minute ticks by slower, so I decide to go for a swim to keep my mind sane.
Desert Vista has a large outdoor pool that’s more like a hot tub because of the desert heat. Since I’ve been here, I’ve started swimming laps. Exercise is good for my body, but even better for my mind. It clears my head and puts me in a meditative state. When I’m swimming, the outside world slips away and I only concentrate on proper pace and breathing.
All We Were Page 15
