“Come on. They’re expecting us.” Cort left the car to come around and open my door. I stood up and swayed, still a bit light-headed from the activities of the past two days. Since yesterday morning, all I’d put in my system was a bagel I’d taken from his apartment before I left to begin my binge drinking, and the hit of coke I bought.
“I got you.” Cort wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me, and I gazed unwaveringly into his gentle eyes.
“One of the reasons I left was so you could be rid of me. I’m not a good person, Cort. You have to understand that. I’ve lied, cheated, screwed people. I’ve deliberately hurt people who didn’t deserve it, simply because I had that power.”
“Why?”
“Because I could.” My simple answer sounded so weak. But that was what and who I was. Weak and miserable in my own life. “I had nothing else but the little authority in my job to bully people.”
Cort said nothing, and I prodded him. “I’m the type of person you hate, aren’t I? You can say it. I hate myself too.”
“I could never hate you. But I do think you should take some time while you’re up here to figure out why you did what you did and what you want to do with your life.”
I knew why, but letting all the ugliness out might hurt more than anything. Still, if it brought me back to Cort—I sneaked a look at his strong profile—it might be worth all the pain.
We walked toward the front door of the Silver Shores Rehabilitation Facility. It opened as we approached, and two people waited under the light—a tall gray-haired man and a young blonde woman. The man extended his hand.
“I’m Deacon. Deacon Rizzuto. I’m the chief therapist and run the program here. And this is Larissa Maldanado.”
She smiled. “Hello. I’ll be your social worker. Once we give you your physical, you and I will sit down and talk.”
I shook their hands. “I’m Harlan DeWitt. This is my friend, Cort.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Come inside, please.” Deacon stepped aside, and my heart began to pound. “Cort, I’m afraid you say your good-byes now. For the next thirty days, Harlan will remain here, by himself. This is a voluntary check-in, but we’re hoping he stays the full month. He’s allowed phone calls, but no visitors.” He and Larissa waited inside the door, most likely to give us some privacy.
In a surprising move, Cort grabbed both my hands. “You stay. Stay and get better. Then come back. Okay?”
“I can’t make any promises.” The thought of staying in this place by myself terrified me.
“Sure you can. You can promise to be that kickass Harlan who don’t give a damn what people say. You can because you know you got something to look forward to. Someone. Me.” He yanked me close and brushed our lips together. My head spun from the warmth of his lips heating up my cold insides. Without realizing it, I clung to him. “Share your past with me. Help me understand the present. Give me hope for the future.”
I wanted to ask,Our future?but couldn’t. I didn’t have that right. Not yet.
“I’ll do my best.” I tried to keep my voice light, but my bravado rang false. Sweat broke out across my forehead, and I trembled. Cort rubbed my back.
“I know you will. You’re strong. Unbreakable. You got this.” Cort kissed me. “You got me.”
I kissed him hard one last time. Then I turned and walked inside, the door shutting behind me, my life as I knew it gone forever.
Chapter Eleven
CORT
“How was therapytoday?” With my phone on speaker, I lay in bed and hugged the pillow close. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a month.” Harlan and I spoke every day after his morning one-on-one therapy session.
“It was good. Larissa doesn’t let me get away with anything.”
“Oh yeah? What’re you tryin’ to hide?”
“Not what,” Harlan said, his voice strong where it’d once been weak. “Who. Me. Aside from telling you, I’d never spoken about my time with Mickey. Working with Larissa allowed me to see that having sex with him was a necessary part of my growing realization that my sexuality wasn’t one-dimensional.”
“That’s a lot of fancy words you’re using to tell me you’re bisexual. At least I think that’s what you’re sayin’.”
“Brat.” Harlan chuckled. “But yeah. I never gave myself permission to have sex with men because I thought they’d all end up denying me like Mickey did. I buried who I was in alcohol and drugs.”
I loved how confident he sounded. “And now? Are you ready?”
