"Of course. But it's impossible. I've totally derailed your life."
“You're giving yourself too much credit, buster." She pauses, glances away for a moment, and then back to me. "Youcanmake it up to me, you know." She smirks at me. "No, not like that."
"That isn't what I was—"
"Thatis a whole separate conversation," she interrupts. "Tell me."
I frown, confused. "Tell you what?"
"Everything."
"Everything about what?"
"You." She pulls the chair closer to me, takes my hand in both of hers. "You said twice that if I knew what kind of man you are, I would take my chances with Pugli and his gaggle of murderers. Well, let's assume that's true. What do you have to lose, Jakob? If you can't or won't open up to me, what point is there in you and me trying to…?” She trails off, shrugging, as if she can’t even finish the thought. "So then I'm gone. And if you do tell me, maybe you're right. Maybe it will be more than I can deal with. But what if it's not? What then, Jakob? What if Icanunderstand? What if I'm capable of…of…I don't know what, Jakob, because I don't have a clue what you would tell me."
I close my eyes. Search myself, physically and mentally. I'm in pain, but it's distant and dull. My head is foggy, my thoughts hazy and hard to pin down, sluggish and oozy.
"Am I…?" I peer up at the IV pole. "Am I on opiates?"
She frowns. "I…I'm not sure. Why?"
I fumble for the nurse call button and press it several times. A nurse bustles in. "And how are we feeling today?"
I tug on the line at my forearm. "Get me off the opiates. Right the fucknow."
"But sir—"
I give her a look of unadulterated fury. "I will not say it again. If I have to rip the I-V out of my arm, I will."
"Jakob," Brys says, "I don't understand what—"
The nurse, however, does, her face paling. "Oh—oh no. You're in recovery?"
"Just get me off of them, please." I do my best to sound less capable of murder.
She stops the drip and removes the bag. “I’m afraid without that, the pain will be—"
"Better than heroin detox," I finish for her. "Just get me some aspirin or Tylenol or Aleve or anything that's not a fucking opiate."
"Of course, sir." She leaves and returns moments later with a dose of plain old Tylenol.
When the nurse has left again, silence lingers between us.
"Jakob," Brys starts, her voice just above a whisper. "Talk to me. Please."
I know it's mostly in my head, but I can feel the pain returning—I tell myself to welcome the pain. It means I'm alive and not risking getting hooked again.
"One for one," I mutter. "I'll tell you a secret, but you have to tell me one."
She nods while sighing. "I agree to your terms." A pause. "But to be honest, I'm not agreeing because it's your terms. I'm agreeing because…" she trails off, shaking her head.
"Why, Brys?"
"Because Idon'twant to. Because I want to…" she looks at me. "I want to trust you. I don't want to keep everything inside anymore.” Her eyes shimmer. "There are things I've never told anyone."
"And you want to tell me?"
She huffs. "God no. I'm terrified. But I…it's festering, Jakob."
