Page 100 of Inseparable
When I come to, sounds of hushed voices talking are the first thing I hear. I blink my eyes open, squinting at the harsh glare of the overhead lights. The room is white and sterile, and the little beeping of the machine by my bed confirms I’m in the hospital. My tongue is stuck to the top of my mouth, and it tastes like mothballs have taken up permanent residence there. I cough, and the sound is coarse and croaky.
“Hey, baby,” Devin says. “How are you feeling?”
I turn toward the sound of his voice, wincing as pain shuttles through my skull. The door snicks shut as the nurse leaves the room. “Sore,” I rasp, struggling to focus my vision. As my eyesight clears, I whimper at the sight of him. He’s slouched in a chair by my bed, with a blue blanket loosely covering his lower half. His face is covered in a medley of bruises, and his left eye is swollen and a horrible blue-black color. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He lifts his shirt, showcasing the white bandage strapped firmly around his upper torso, concealing the bulk of a tattoo on his right side. “A little stiff and sore but no permanent damage.”
“I thought I killed you too.”
Compassion fills his eyes. He leans forward in slow motion, lacing his fingers in mine. Warmth spreads up my arm. “It was an accident, and you were only trying to help.”
“You still got hurt. I hurt you.”
He sighs. “I think you probably hurt yourself more.”
I know what he’s inferring, and he’s right. “I tried to tell you this. That no good will come from associating with me, but you’re so damn stubborn. I hope you understand now. I ruin everything I touch—everything and everyone I come into contact with. I hope you’re getting ready to leave.”
“Come on, Ange. You know me better than that. I’m not leaving you ever again.”
“I almost killed you!” I hiss, ignoring the stabbing pain in my head. “Where’s your sense of self-preservation?”
“Where’s yours?” he snaps back. “Why are you still punishing yourself?”
I go into lockdown mode. I’m not getting into this with him. “I’m not talking about this with you. Not now. Not ever.”
“Where you’re going you won’t have much choice.”
Tendrils of ice creep up my spine. Alarm bells scream in my head. “What do you mean?” I whisper.
“The cops arrested you for aggravated assault, Ange.”
The world goes deathly quiet. Bile floods my mouth. “I’m going to jail?” I hate how my lower lip wobbles when I speak.
He pulls his chair in closer, his mouth contorting in a painful grimace as he moves. He leans into me, threading his fingers fully through mine. “I managed to make a deal on your behalf. You’ll do a ninety-day stint in rehab instead of jailtime.”
“I don’t want to go to rehab.” I don’t want to dry out. I won’t be able to blank it all out if I’m sober.
“It’s jail or rehab. Those are your only options.”
Neither option is appealing, and both mean going cold turkey. “I can’t be sober, Devin. Don’t ask that of me, please. I just can’t do it.”
He brushes his fingers across my uninjured cheek. “You can’t keep running, Ange. You’ve got to stop and face up to this.”
Tears stream out of my eyes. “I’d rather die.”
He closes his eyes briefly, and when he reopens them, raw anger coats his retinas. “Don’t you fucking ever say that.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t want to live.”
He grips my head between his hands. “I want you to live. I need you to live. To not give up.”
“Why are you doing this?”
His eyes glisten with determination. “You may have forgotten how to love yourself, but I haven’t. I love you, Ange, and there isn’t anything I won’t do to save you, including this. You’re going to rehab, and you’re going to get better, and I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”
I start sobbing again, and my eyes sting. My chest constricts. My heart aches. “You shouldn’t care. I’m not worthy of you.”
“And I wasn’t worthy of you once,” he tells me softly. “But you never gave up on me. And I’m not giving up either.” He presses his wrist to mine, aligning our tattoos. “Infinity, Ange. Our bond may be broken, our awesome-threesome connection may be gone, but we’re still here, and while there is air in my lungs, I will continue fighting for the both of us.”
