Page 107 of Almost Yours
thirty-five
. . .
Rowan
Melissa’s been calling for weeks now. Ihaveanswered a few times. Every call so far has been the same pattern of panic, promises, and desperation thick in her voice like I can reach through the phone and pull her out of it. And every time I try to get a straight answer—where she is, what she needs, whether she’ll actually take help—she dodges, disappears, then calls again three days later like nothing’s happened.
I think she expects that I’ll just keep catching her right before she hits rock bottom, but I already know how that ends.
Over and over again, I tell myself she’s not my responsibility because I know what it turns into if I let it. I know how fast helping becomes drowning. I’ve lived like that before, only last time, it was my sister. And I couldn’t save her, either.
That truth sits heavy in my chest, ugly and immovable. I was too young. Too damn out of my depth to make a difference. But that doesn’t stop the part of me that still thinks if I’d tried harder, stayed closer, done something different, maybe she’d still be here.
So, yeah. I’ve ignored some of Melissa’s calls when it’s reallynot a good time, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just know I can’t do this the same way again.
I haven’t told Violet, and it’s not that I’m hiding it…I just don’t know how to explain it. What the hell am I supposed to say?“Hey, Violet, remember all those years I was away? There was this woman I slept with once when I was drunk and stupid because I was missing you, and then I spent months trying to keep her clean.”
I linger off to the side of the barn, watching Violet move, completely focused on whatever it is she’s tinkering with as my phone buzzes in my pocket. Again. I don’t need to look to know who it is.
That familiar knot of guilt and obligation twists in my gut. It’s been growing tighter with each ignored call. I should block her number. Cut the tie completely. That would be the smart thing.
But I keep seeing her that night I found her, curled up on her bathroom floor, barely breathing. I keep hearing the doctors.“If you hadn’t found her when you did...”
I pull the phone out, staring at Melissa’s name on the screen. The sixth call today.
“Everything okay?” Violet calls from inside the barn. We recently got everything cleared out, and I got some hay delivered. Violet thinks we’re prepping for potential future livestock, but she doesn’t know I’ve actually got a surprise in store for her.
That will have to wait, though. I walk closer, leaning against the doorframe. “Actually,” I say, the words sticking in my throat, “no.”
Violet turns. Her smile fades as she sees my expression. “What is it?”
“I should’ve told you sooner,” I say, already knowing that part’s true. “I just didn’t want to drag something from my past into the present.”
The words hang there for a second, heavy with everything I haven’t said yet. I scrub a hand over my jaw, forcing myself to keep going instead of backing out like I have every other time.
“You know how my phone’s been going off a lot lately?”
She nods slowly, her eyes searching mine. “I figured it was work.”
“It’s not.” I run a hand through my hair, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “It’s a woman named Melissa. She’s…someone from my past. When I was in Arizona.”
The light in Violet’s eyes dulls, worry flickering across her face before stepping closer to me.
“What kind of someone?” she asks, her voice cautious.
I exhale slowly. This is just as hard as I thought it would be. “She was my neighbor. We… I slept with her once.” I watch Violet’s face carefully, hating the way her expression freezes.
“But that’s not why she’s calling. She’s an addict. When I knew her, she was trying to get clean.” I rub at the back of my neck, tension coiling there. “She keeps calling, saying she needs help.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“I have.”
Violet’s eyes drop to the ground, and she wraps her arms around herself. The silence stretches between us like a physical thing, growing heavier with each passing second.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she finally asks.
“It felt like something I should handle on my own,” I admit.
