I’m in hell.
Chapter Four
Waylon
Mondays are always hectic, but they’re specifically exhausting when I have to drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night to pick up Wilder’s drunken ass and then go to work a couple hours later.
As planned, he left family supper right after dessert and met up with Gabby.
Turns out a twenty-one-year-old college student can hold her liquor as well as he can and they went toe-to-toe. They partied for hours at The Twisted Bull, and when it was near closing time, Rainy called me to get him. She has my number on speed dial at this point and knows not to let him drive.
Wilder has a lot of inner demons he’s still battling—ones I wish he’d seek help for—but I vowed to always be there for him no matter what. Loving him unconditionally means I bear the stormy seasons with him. Even though he can be a royal pain, especially when it’s during the most inconvenient times, I’ll never abandon him when he’s spiraling.
After all these years of masking and compartmentalizing, he’s good at it. You’d never guess he’s drowning in depression based on how he acts around everyone. Charismatic and funny,acting like he’s fine, but in reality, he’s using alcohol and sex to ignore the demons choking him from the inside out.
I feel them, too.
As his twin, I sense when things are bad and it’s why I don’t scold him the way I should. I worry if I do, it’ll make things worse by triggering him to not only cut but do it too deep again.
Thirteen years ago was the last time he was hospitalized, but since then, I’ve noticed fresh cuts on his thighs from time to time. Not deep enough to pass out but enough to see he was able to stop himself. Finding him bleeding out on the bathroom floor and then witnessing him seizing in the hospital was traumatic enough, and I never want either of us to experience it again.
I’d never felt my heart drop the way it did when I heard that machine beep like crazy and saw his lifeless eyes staring at me.
And that’s why I continue watching him like a hawk and being there the only way I know how—showing up and reminding him he’s loved. Even when he doesn’t want me to or want to hear it.
I can only hope it’s enough to get him through the hard days when he’s tempted to harm himself and then chooses not to.
Although we’ve found different ways of coping with our mental health, I understand him in a way no one else can, which is why I don’t get angry when he stumbles in two hours late for work.
Frustrated? Definitely.
“How’s your head?” I ask, grabbing the rake.
“Feels like I slept in vise-grip pliers, but other than that, wonderful.”
“Great, then you won’t mind ridin’ out to the pasture and checkin’ the troughs.”
“Yeah, sure…” His eye twitches as if he can’t stand the idea of getting on a horse right now.
“Afteryou finish muckin’ your half of the stalls,” I add.
I may not scold him in so many words, but I’ll put his hungover ass to work.
Once my half is finished, I take a quick break to check my phone that’s been vibrating nonstop. A couple are from Landen, one from Noah, and several from the horse group chat.
I do a quick scroll through their conversation until my eyes land on a photo. It looks to be a girl’s arm showing off a nasty rash and freaking out because she doesn’t know what it is or where it came from.
Unknown #1: Guys, it itches so bad! Oh my God.
Unknown #2: Maybe you have an infection.
Unknown #3: Could be ringworm. Or a bad case of Eczema.
Unknown #1: OMG what is that? Am I gonna die?
Unknown #4: Kind of looks like Psoriasis. Though it could be a heat rash, too.
Unknown #3: You’re not gonna die. But you might wanna get it checked out. Ringworm’s contagious.
