Me: How much time do I have?
Marcus: One week.
Me: I’ll see what I can do. But please, Marcus, try not to let anything happen to him.
Marcus: I’m trying.
The second I read his last text, I dial the rehab facility, demanding to speak with anyone with any authority. After being on hold for what seems like hours, someone picks up. By the time the manager gets on the line, I’m hysterically crying, trying to explain that myself and Benny’s sponsor are the only ones who can come and see him. When I tell them how they let his former drug dealer in, the lady is appalled and apologetic. I know it isn’t their fault. They had no idea who Marcus was to Benny. I make one last request that histreatment team be alerted so they can preemptively assess Benny for a relapse risk, given how triggering that visit could’ve been. Benny could decide to leave at any time, and I need them to do everything they can to prevent that.
As soon as I hang up with the facility, I call Benny’s sponsor, James. I beg him to visit Benny as often as he can. James agrees immediately to visit every day unless something major prevents him from going. He doesn’t bother reassuring me that Benny will be okay, probably knowing better than to promise me that right now. It’s hard for me to believe, no matter how desperately I want to.
I disconnect the call with James and see a text from Nate.
Nate: Today was the best day. I wish I was with you right now and not here.
I resist the urge to throw my phone across the room. Why in the fuck would the universe bring this man into my life, who’s my literal fantasy man, only to give such a cruel wake-up call? There’s no happily-ever-after for me. There’s only stress, despair, and grief.
Forever. Over and over, until I die.
I drop my head against the headboard and close my eyes, tears flowing down my cheeks like waterfalls. After five minutes of crying, I take one last shaky breath. And then, because I have no other option, I start trying to figure out how in the hell I’m going to come up with $14,000 in one week’s time.
28
Nate
She probably fell asleep early.
Simple explanation.
She just fell asleep. Didn’t see my texts. Or my calls.
I don’t have anything to worry about.
All the time I’ve spent with Olive has been another level of perfection. It’s so easy with Olive, and I’m falling deeper for her every day. The way I feel with her reminds me of how my dad described how it was with my mom. And even though the panic I felt at the possibility of losing Olive, like I lost them, is still present, the fear of giving up on what this could be scares me more.
And the sexual chemistry. I’ve never felt anything like it with anyone else. I haven’t been with a lot of women, but I also haven’t been a monk. So, I feel like I have enough experience to compare it to, and I’ve never been turned on byalmost every interaction, no matter how innocent. Maybe it’s just the honeymoon phase, but regardless, I plan on taking advantage of every opportunity she gives me.
Which I was hoping would include tonight.
Sighing out a breath, I flip onto my stomach. I eventually drift to sleep with thoughts of Olive as my lullaby.
Olive is still frustratinglysilent when I pack the next morning. I aggressively zip my suitcase closed and freeze as a thought occurs to me.What if something happened to her brother? Maybe she had to fly home immediately to take care of him.
Guilt for even feeling the tiniest amount of annoyance that she didn’t answer me floods me. I’ll be the biggest, most selfish dick if that’s the reason she didn’t answer me. Honestly, I hope she decided she hated me after I left for the show last night rather than something terrible happening to her brother. Then, at least, she would just hate me and not be sad because of her brother.
Olive has felt way too much sadness when it comes to Benny. She deserves not to feel that ever again.
When I try to call her, it rings a few times and then goes to voicemail.
Before I even hang up, I’m out the door and stalking toward the stairs, figuring they would be quicker than the elevator.
Just as I’m about to push through the door, Ian steps into the hall.
“Where are you going?”
I debate lying to him, but decide there’s no point. “Oliveisn’t answering my calls or texts, so I’m going to her room to see if she’ll open the door.
He frowns at me for a beat. When he doesn’t say anything, I’m about to leave, annoyed to be delayed in my pursuits. But then he says, “That’s disappointing. You were almost giving me hope that all that lovey-dovey bullshit was real.”
