Page 163 of The Sidekick

“I don't like talking about it. All that matters is I’m working on it and getting better, and I’m going to keep working on it. I don’t ever want to be like that again.” I shudder just thinking about how low I sank before I got help.

“Why didn’t you come back?” The words are muffled behind his hand, but I hear Satan clearly.

The walls harden even more. How dare he ask me that.

“To what? Lies? People who despise me or want to use me? End up in the same emotional place I barely managed to crawl out of?” I swallow hard and try to close the well of bitterness that’s overflowing. These are my thoughts. I don’t have to share. I don’t need to stab people with them. I also don’t want to be like that.

“I wasn’t ready.” I tack on weakly as guilt takes the place of anger. That sounded like more of a save in my head because Satan looks devastated.

It surprises me to see him so choked up. I suddenly feel really bad for being the reason he’s upset. Max is very still beside me. I break Asher’s hold on me to see him while I panic. He’s watching Satan closely with narrowed eyes.

I thought I would love watching Satan get upset. I used to lie awake at night and imagine yelling at him for all of my heartbreak. Trying to picture how he would react. I thought he would be mad or dismissive. I barely let myself think he might cry. He doesn’t seem the type.

Watching his face pale and his hands begin to shake is terrifying. It makes him seem more like a real person instead of the God I built him up to before he became a demon. I really didn’t think he would care about any of it.

“I’m sorry,” I try to backtrack quickly as his eyes close tightly. My panic starts to rise, and my hand slides to my throat to clamp down. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone.”

“Eyes to me, angel,” Asher says calmly. My head jerks around to face him.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” dark blue eyes meet mine with determination. “I’m proud of you for getting help when you needed it. We’ll all help you through this if you let us. You don’t have to do it all alone anymore.”

“I feel guilty,” my voice chokes up. My body begins to shake as the anxiety builds unbearably.

“Come here,” Asher reaches out for me.

I practically leap into Asher’s open arms. One closes around me, and the hand of the other softly clasps my throat, replacing mine. It’s more comforting when he does it. The tight feeling in my chest slowly begins to unravel as I pant.

“You did what was best for you, and I’m fucking proud,” he murmurs in my ear. My shoulders slowly sink from the defensive hunch. I relax into his chest, listening to him breathe slowly in and out. “I’m also glad you came back, but that’s entirely for selfish reasons. Now, I’m definitely going with you on all of the pranks involving their house. The rest is in your obviously capable hands.”

I nod in agreement. I know he’s changing the subject to get my mind off of my panic, but the more the anxiety eases the harder the guilt hits over Satan’s reaction. I didn’t even look at Max. I can’t.

I rest my head on his shoulders and whisper, “I don’t think I can call him Satan anymore. If I hugged them, would it be wrong? I just don’t want them to think the worst, you know?”

“Angel,” he lets out a soft laugh and kisses the top of my head affectionately. “You’re too sweet for us all. Hug them if you want. You’re still coming home with me.”

I lean back with a weak smile and give him a quick kiss on the cheek that makes him grin.

I turn to find Max and Trevor by the printer with their foreheads pressed together, talking quietly. Asher pats my hip and jerks his chin towards them. My feet unstick from the floor to gingerly walk over. They don’t notice until I’m right next to them. Max leans back, eyes wet with unshed tears, and holds an arm out to draw me into a hug.

“I don’t want to get,” I helplessly gesture between them and wince. They’re doing a great job of making each other feel better. I’m not needed here. The more I think about it, the more I realize this is a dumb idea. The last time I tried to do any kind of comforting to Trevor it ended badly.

Before I can follow through on the thought of going back to Asher, Trevor’s arm snaps around my waist and jerks me to his chest. Max’s arm closes around us both, and he presses into my back, leaving me squished between them. They’re both too tall. I end up with my face buried in Trevor’s chest. If I tap out, will they let me go so I can breathe?

“I’m sorry.” Those two words surprise me coming from Trevor’s lips. That’s my line. They’re heartfelt, with no room for lies and they ache. My guilty conscience stabs me at the tone. My anxiety recognizes it.

“Well, don’t feel too bad, ok? Dr. Robinson said that my stress started long before Joe died. I just stopped being able to process for a little bit.”

I can’t keep the words inside, even if I don’t really feel them. I wanted him to feel bad. It’s proof that, at some point, he did care. That I wasn’t completely stupid for believing his act. But that isn’t nice, and I’m not comfortable with it. I want to forget all of it happened and pretend we’re all normal again.

“No. You aren’t sweeping this under the rug, babygirl. I fucked up, majorly. More than I even thought. I don’t deserve your comfort, but I’ll fucking take it. Any time you want to give it.” Trevor’s voice is hoarse with strain as he speaks.

The thought of being able to comfort him at any point makes me very uneasy. I’m not sure if it’s his emotions talking. I don’t think I could handle it when he changes his mind again. Instead of saying anything, I hesitantly bring my arms around his waist and stroke his lower back. This is how it was supposed to be between us, all three of us, and it makes me sad that I don’t trust it.

Everything is quiet until I hear the sound of keys tapping behind me. It snaps me out of my awkward barely-there comfort more effectively than anything else could.

“Asher Florent Broussard, if you are watching porn on my laptop, we will have words. Not nice words, either.”

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