Page 70 of My Fixation

“When I first got out, I realized that all the savings Trent had convinced me to give to him were no longer available to me.”

Shame immediately follows the admission. Because saying it out loud makes me feel stupid all over again. It shows him just how naive, gullible, and weak I really am.

“I was already spiraling.” I close my eyes. The memories wait there ready to drag me backward. Before they can, Conor’s arms come around me, pulling me against him. Grounding me. I let myself lean into him. Just for a moment. Just long enough to borrow some of his strength before I continue.

“I had nothing, and the thought of starting over was too much.” The words scrape their way out of my throat. “So I started drinking.” I let out a hollow laugh. “A lot.”

The memories come easier now. Not because they hurt less. Because I’ve finally opened the door.

“The fact that I was sitting alone in my shitty apartment every night should have been an indication of how bad things were getting.” I stare at a spot on the floor. Unable to look at him.

“But there was nobody there to tell me to stop.”

Conor’s arm tightens around my shoulders. The simple pressure keeps me anchored. It keeps me talking.

“Soon the drinking wasn’t enough.” I swallow hard. “One of the guys at a job site noticed I was having some back pain.” The corner of my mouth twists bitterly. “At least that’s how it started.”

I can still remember it. The casual offer. The fake concern. The way he acted like he was helping me.

“He offered me some pills.” My fingers curl into my palms. “The first ones didn’t do much.” I shake my head. “I even told him that.”

Looking back, it seems so obvious. So stupid.

“I didn’t realize it was a setup.” My voice drops. “He had a side business with some other guys.” The room feels smaller suddenly. The memories pressing closer.

“The next pills were stronger.” I close my eyes. “They knocked me out.” Silence stretches between us. “But before they did…” My voice breaks slightly. “They gave me a break.”

That’s the part I’m most ashamed of. Not taking them. Not even becoming dependent on them. It’s the relief I felt. The fact that for a few hours at a time, the grief quieted. The nightmares stopped. The loneliness faded into the background.

“I didn’t have to think.” My breathing starts coming faster. The confession pulls old feelings to the surface. “I didn’t have to feel anything.”

I stop talking. The room blurs slightly. Conor runs his hand through my hair, the same way he did during the panic attack. Grounding me. Reminding me that I’m not sitting alone in that apartment anymore. I had to finish it. Get it all out.

“I stopped.” The words barely make it out. “I found myself staring at the pills and the alcohol, thinking about how easy it would be to just slip away from everything.” My throat tightens. “An easy out.”

Conor’s arms immediately tighten around me. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make sure I’m still there. “But something kept stopping me.”

The admission hangs between us, raw and ugly, but honest.

“No one would have missed me.” I force the words out. “Or even noticed I wasn’t showing up.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “I didn’t want to be that coward.”

Conor goes completely still. The kind of stillness that feels dangerous. Then he pulls back just enough to guide my face toward his. Tears sting the backs of my eyes. His expression is a complicated mess of emotions. Worry, anger, and something else I can’t quite identify. Something fierce. Something that makes my chest ache.

“Don’t.” His voice is low. Rough. “Don’t ever say that again.”

I blink. Confused. “Say what?”

His jaw clenches. “That no one would have missed you.” The words come out like they physically hurt him. “Because it’s not true.” His hand cups the back of my neck, holding me steady.

“Maybe there wasn’t anyone there to tell you that then.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “But there is now.”

My vision blurs. “Conor—”

“No.” His forehead rests against mine. “You don’t get to decide your worth based on how badly other people failed you.”

The tears I’ve been fighting finally spill over. Because no one has ever said anything like that to me before.

The next couple of hours pass with Conor holding me. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask more questions. Doesn’t demand details I clearly don’t want to give. Instead, he talks about himself and his brothers. The ridiculous things Xavier has apparently done. The stories are enough to keep my mind occupied. Enough to stop me from disappearing back into my own head.