“Yes, and it’s a good thing we were able to figure out what he took because we could treat him properly right away. He’s stable now, but it’s possible he could suffer from withdrawal symptoms.”
“That’s illegal without a doctor’s prescription, right?” Noah confirms.
“Correct. These were not legal,” the doctor hesitantly states.
Great. Where the fuck did he get those?
“What’s that used for?” Dad looks around at us suspiciously as if one of us gave him the pills. I wouldn’t even know where to find them.
“Pain management, PTSD, anxiety, depression…but when it’s used recreationally in higher doses, it’s usually to get high,” the doctor explains. “It’s hard to tell exactly how much he took or how long he’s been usin’, but it’d help if he told us. It’d also help if he were open about anything else he might be takin’, so we can make sure we’re treatin’ him properly.”
Oh, he’s gonna fucking tell me.
It’s one thing for him to drink as much as he does, but I never suspected he was taking pills. Even if he was taking it to help with his mental health, he knows there are legal options.
Wilder will do everything besides go to therapy and get the right medication.
“But he’s gonna live? He’s okay?” Mom asks.
“Yes, ma’am. We’re distributing fluids and meds as well as watchin’ his blood pressure carefully. He’ll need to stay a night or two, but if no other issues arise, he’ll be discharged.
Christmas is in three days, so it’d suck if he had to stay longer.
“Oh, thank God,” Landen blurts.
Mom’s shaking with fear and anger, but I don’t blame her.
I know his depression takes over his mindset sometimes, but it’s frustrating to watch him not help himself when I’ve offered time and time again to go with him. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get him help, but he has to want it—I can’t force him.
“The nurses are gettin’ him ready to be transported to a room and then y’all can visit him.”
“Thank you.” Dad holds out his hand and shakes the doctor’s.
“You’re welcome.”
Everyone releases a collective sigh before we go back to our seats. Harlow and her mom are talking, but her back is to me. I hate that I have to do this, but if I don’t do it now, it’ll just be harder on her later.
Waylon:I’m not sure rescheduling is a good idea. I’m sorry.
Keeping my distance, I sit on the other side of the waiting room, but I glance over when she lifts her phone.
Her gorgeous face shifts into a frown, and I feel like absolute shit about it.
Guilty is an understatement.
But the moment Delilah walks into the ER and sits next to her sister, I’m reminded again why I have to stay away.
The sun has long set by the time I’m able to get Wilder alone. I stayed out in the hallway while our parents spent time fussing over him and my siblings went to visit, but once they left, I was ready to go in and strangle him.
“Well, lemme have it…” is all he says when it’s finally the two of us. I have no idea what he’s told everyone else, but I’m not leaving until I hear everything.
I lean back in the chair next to his bed with my arms crossed. “You weigh a fuckton when you’re limp.”
He huffs a laugh, shrugging. “Muscle weighs more than fat.”
“Where’d you get the ketamine?” I blurt, not wanting to waste any more time getting to the bottom of this.
He scrubs a hand over his scruffy jawline. “Jake.”
