That couldn’t continue.
“You’re sure?” he said when I told him my answer, and when I nodded, he got up. “Then I’ll make a few calls. Are you ready to talk to Cade and Isaac? I can have them wait or order something to help you sleep so you can avoid it while you think.”
“I’ve been doing enough thinking,” I said softly. “And they deserve to know.”
“Then I’ll get them,” he said and opened the door, leaving me alone for a few seconds to get my thoughts together and prepare for the conversation.
Isaac appeared in the doorway, looking warier than when I’d been losing my mind with him as the sole witness. Cade looked grim as well, quietly closing the door and moving to the end of my bed as Isaac slid forward. It took me a moment to realize what was odd about his movements until I realized he hadn’t made a single sound.
“Take a breath,” I said to Cade, knowing I needed to talk to Isaac, too, but the fact that Cade was slipping into routine and habit from his days in the forces was especially alarming. “I’m not signing up to be shipped to Canada to be offed, and I’m not going back home where I can feed myself a bullet.”
“That ain’t funny,” Cade said, but I saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“It wasn’t supposed to be,” I said grimly, clearing my throat. I immediately regretted that and took a breath. “I know what I need to do. And I need you to listen without interrupting. It’s hard enough as it is.”
“We can wait,” Isaac said, but it came across as half-hearted, like he knew I wasn’t going to listen, or he too wanted me to say whatever was on my mind.
“I can’t,” I said. “It’s gotta be said before?—”
“Before you leave,” Isaac finished with a weary sigh, taking the chair Ramirez had vacated and scooting close to the bed so he could take my hand and rest his other on my knee.
“Inpatient care,” I said softly with a nod.
“The nut house?” Cade grunted.
“I said not to interrupt,” I said with a glare, and he ducked his head sheepishly. “But yes, the nut house. At least at first, but the one the doc wants to send me to, or, no, he gave me options. I-I chose this one. Because once Arete lets me go, there’s another facility that can take me in long-term. They’re...this place can’t help me. Not like it can help other people. My head is too fucked up.”
“You ain’t fucked up,” Cade grunted.
I looked at him, smiling sadly. “Cade, are you saying that because you believe it or because if you admit I’m fucked up in the head, then you have to admit you are too?”
He went pale, and while I wished I hadn’t been so hard on him, I knew it needed to be said. For all the demons I had locked in my head, there were untold numbers locked in his. Not that he would need the same kind of help I clearly did, but if he didn’t start getting a handle on things, then he might be in the same boat as me one day. Or, and this was my greatest fear for him, he would need something even more drastic...if he could be helped at all.
“Fuck you,” he muttered, looking away.
“And you,” I said, turning to Isaac. “You need to stay here, this place has been good for you, and I think you’re ready, or will be by the time your...well, when your time is up. I think all you needed was time to find yourself, not some big intervention. You know yourself better than you think, and you’re a damn good person. So don’t keep punishing yourself when you haven’t done anything wrong; trust me, you don’t want to go down that road.”
Isaac frowned, and I braced for the protest, the fight, for him to tell me there wasn’t anything wrong with me. “You’re right.”
I opened my mouth, realized what he’d said, and stopped to stare at him. “I-I’m what?”
“Right,” he said with a small smile, clearly realizing I was confused and why. “But you don’t get to talk to me like this is your final talk with me, and then you move on.”
“Isaac,” I began in protest, but he bowled right on through, not caring what I had to say on the subject.
“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t get to determine how I feel about things, you got it? You can break things off with me, you can put as much distance between us as you think is necessary, but you don’t get to tell me what I feel, or what I think, alright? Don’t be a hypocrite.”
I smiled at that. “Don’t tell you to be your own person and then turn around and be upset when you’re your own person in a way I don’t like?”
“Exactly,” he said with a wavering smile. “You can learn.”
“It can be taught,” I said solemnly.
“And if you need time and space, you’ve got it. But even if we’re not...whatever we are right now, and there’s no hope, well, guess what? I don’t care. You still matter to me, you’re still important to me, and I’m going to be there for you. When I get out of here, I want to know where you are so I can visit. And when you get out? I want to see you still. Even if it’s just as friends,” he said with a quiet intensity that was so much fiercer than my yelling and throwing things could have ever been.
“I don’t,” I began, but shook my head. “You and...Gina, and Mikael, and...Cade, and I don’t know.”
“It’s all jumbled up,” he said softly, stroking my face gently. “I thought it might be happening, but I was too scared to ask. Me, them, us, it’s all bouncing around in that thick skull of yours, and you don’t know what to do with it. So you have to go somewhereto get it sorted out, with people who know how to help you do just that. I get it. I understand.”
