God, what had I been doing to myself?
And even still, when I logically knew how bad he was for me, I wanted to run to him. I wanted his lies to be my truth. I wanted to believe the false promises. I wanted to pretend he wasn’t sick and that his denial wouldn’t destroy us both.
“That’s not fair,” I said finally, proud of how firm I sounded.
“What’s not fair is you abandoning me when I need you! What kind of selfish person are you? So this only works for you as long as you’re getting something out of it? Because I didn’t hear about any problems as long as you were flat on your fucking back with your legs spread open,” Maxx said nastily. I knew he was hurting, that he was lashing out, but fuck him.
Seriously . . . fuck . . . him.
“Get your shit together, Maxx. And do it for yourself, and for no one else. And then maybe I can learn to trust you again, trust myself to be with you. Because this”—I paused for a moment—“is wrong. This is unhealthy. And if you truly loved me, you’d see that.”
There, I had said my piece. What he chose to do with my words was on him.
Maxx must have sensed my finality because I could hear him start to cry again. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.
I couldn’t do this anymore. If I listened to him begging any longer, all my conviction, all my strength, would evaporate, and I’d crawl back to him, broken and bleeding.
“I’ve got to go. I hope you get better. I really do,” I told him, my throat closing up over the words.
And then I hung up before he could say anything else. For good measure, I turned off my phone and dropped it into my bag.
My heart was wounded, but it wasn’t destroyed. I would recover from this, eventually. And I sincerely hoped that the day would come when Maxx would come back to me, healthy and whole.
But I couldn’t hinge my life on that. I had to go on.
And despite the emotional upheaval Maxx had unleashed on my life, I could never regret him. I hoped, in the future, when I looked back on our time together, I’d be able to look past the gut-twisting, heart-shattering wreckage and see everything that knowing him had done for me.
Because of him I had been opened to a side of myself I thought would never exist again.
Because of him I had learned to love with my whole heart.
Because of him I was stronger than I had ever been before.
I knew that in the next few weeks, when I was faced with the consequences of my choices, I would be sure that the path I took was the only one I could have traveled.
In the end—because of everything, rather than in spite of it—Maxx Demelo had been worth it.
Feeling a weight lift from my shoulders that I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying, I headed home. And when I opened the door to find Renee curled up on the couch, watching TV, I knew, without a doubt, that I’d be okay.
Out of the ashes I would rise to become something better.
And I would find the strength to go wherever my road would lead.
epilogue
maxx
i stared down at the phone long after Aubrey ended the call. And long after there was nothing left but silence.
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Poe had been right. Loving was lonely.
I had really fucked up this time.
She had left me.
I should have known it was only a matter of time.
Aubrey Duncan was entirely too good for a screwup like me.
But she loved me.
Finally, she had told me the words I had waited so long to hear.
Even though she had given them to me as she had ripped out my heart, I was still happy to hear them.
But then I remembered her other words, and I knew we were over. And the decisiveness of that almost undid me completely.
And now I was stuck in this shithole I called a life.
Aubrey had given me a glimpse of something better. Something good. Something clean. And I had craved it so much, but ultimately I had destroyed it.
And now here I was, laid up in a hospital room, lucky to be alive.
When the doctor had come around and explained the detox process, he had encouraged me to continue with treatment by going to rehab.
I had dismissed the idea outright. I didn’t need rehab. That shit was for junkies and losers.
I would be just fine. And I would do it on my own.
All I needed was Aubrey.
She’d help me. She’d get me through anything.
She was my savior.
But I didn’t have Aubrey.
She had made it clear she wouldn’t be there. That she couldn’t help me.
That I had to help myself.
Shit. Now what was I going to do?
Landon had been by earlier with my uncle. Neither one of them said much. I had expected David to be a dick, so no big surprise. But I hadn’t expected the stony silence from my kid brother.
It had ripped me in half to see an expression on his face I never thought I’d see.
Disappointment.
After Landon had left, I felt depressed. I was as low as I thought I could get.
I was wrong.
Because I had decided to call Aubrey.
I had been tormented with wondering why she hadn’t come to the hospital to see me. I had no idea she had been the one who had found me at the club and essentially saved my life.
And now she was gone.
My chest ached with a pain I was all too familiar with.
Grief.
The night after talking to Aubrey I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and thought about the ways I could have done things differently. What I could have said to make her stay.
And in the early hours of the morning, I was hit with a clarity that comes only when you’ve lost everything.
So after forcing myself out of bed, I got dressed in the same clothes I had been admitted in. They hung loosely on my hips. I had lost weight in the week I had been in the hospital. Looking in the mirror at my hollow cheeks and sallow skin, I barely recognized the man looking back at me.
I hated him.
“I have your release paperwork here. You just need to read over everything and sign at the bottom,” the doctor said, coming into my room a short time later.
He held out the papers, waiting for me to take them.
This was the moment when I could change everything.
“Actually, I’d like to hear more about rehab.”
acknowledgments
Sometimes the acknowledgments are the hardest part to write. But this time, they’re the easiest . . .
This book is for the people who have supported me, no matter what. This is for my mother, who is no longer with me, but whose influence is still felt in every part of my life. She always told me to reach for the stars and to never give up until I could touch them. I didn’t give up, Mom. And I never will . . .
For my dad and grandparents, who are my biggest fans. I love you all so very much, and I hope I always make you proud.
For Ian. You helped me brainstorm this incredible idea for a story. Something about clubbing and street art and addiction (and insisting I watch documentaries on Banksy) . . . and somewhere in our crazy stream-of-consciousness ramblings, Lead Me Not was created. You listened to me as I pieced it together, and you didn’t grumble (too much) when I hid away in my writing cave to bleed this story out. Thank you for your endless patience. I said it in my first book and I say it again now . . . they’re all for you . . .
For my daughter, who is old enough to be excited when Mommy is writing a new book, though she doesn’t understand why she can’t read it (when you’re older, sweetheart). Thank you for being sparkly and pink and fabulous!