Page 120 of This Side of Beautiful

I swallowed, pushing through. “That night, when I wanted to end it all, I reached out to my mother and realized she had blocked me. Adam was the only one left. When he didn’t pick up, I sent a text. Something vague but final. He got to me before the pills and alcohol did. He saved me but made it clear that after that, we were done in every way except friendship. He helped me get into treatment, and he was there for me until he couldn’t be anymore. I’ll always have love for him because he supported me when I had nothing. But we weren’t a love match. I didn’t fully get that until the gala, until I bumped into you and felt something I had never felt before.”

Landon absorbed my words, his breathing steadying. He rubbed my arms, his touch grounding me.

His voice was gentle and careful. “Have you felt like that since?”

“No. I have felt low. I have wanted to hurt myself, but not to end things. More as a way to release the pain. Back in Houston, after the rodeo. In New Orleans, after our fight. I was in your bathroom, holding your razor, ready to cut my thigh. But then I thought of you. I thought of how you see me, how you believe in me, even when I can’t. And I put it down. In that moment, I knew I never wanted to go back to that place again.” I met his gaze. “That is why I finally told the world I have bipolar. I was done hiding from it.”

Landon exhaled, as if he had been holding something in. “So, why didn’t you tell me you’ve been on meds? The real reason.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know if you would still love me if you knew I needed meds to keep me from spinning out of control.”

I sighed. “You knew about therapy, but therapy alone isn’t enough for me. Therapy is like church. You go because you need the message again and again to stay whole. My treatment is the same. It keeps me stable. It keeps me from losing myself completely. Even still, I want to get off meds again one day.”

Landon frowned. “I don’t see that much of a difference in you.”

“That is because you only see the outside. You see what I let you see. What you don’t hear are the thoughts, how self-defeating and ugly they can be. It is like the worst things people have ever said about me are stuck on repeat, screaming at me until I can’t hear my own voice.”

I swallowed hard. “Then there is the wildness, the impulsivity. The meds quiet the noise in my head. They level me off. My highs aren’t as high, my lows aren’t as low. They keep me from spiraling when real life happens, like trolls, or my mother, or when you and I are at odds.”

My shoulders drooped. “But I don’t feel like myself when I’m on them. My mind is foggy. My voice doesn’t sound as clear. I have to change my diet. No citrus, no certain routines that help my vocal cords.”

Landon nodded, thoughtful. “I did notice you stopped putting lemon in your water. I thought it was just a small change since you’re not performing right now.”

“Citrus and lithium don’t mix,” I explained, swirling the water in my bottle. “The meds help, but they dull everything, not just the bad parts.”

Landon’s eyes sharpened. “Dull everything… like?”

I hesitated, then sighed. “Like my emotions. My creativity. My instincts. Even pleasure.”

His gaze darkened with understanding. “So… your sex drive is lower?”

I smirked despite myself. “Of course, that’s what you focus on.”

He leaned in, voice dropping an octave. “I mean… you want sex even more than you do now?”

I shook my head, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s not about wanting it more or less. I still want it. I still crave connection, intimacy. But before, I used sex like a drug. Some of the reason I cheated, the reason I used to sleep around, was because of my impulsivity. That, and not liking myself enough to say no.”

Landon’s expression darkened, his voice quieter but firmer. “So… if you weren’t on meds, would you cheat on me?”

The directness of the question caught me off guard, but I didn’t flinch. I curved my hands around his face, holding him steady. “No, baby. I’m telling you that I’m not that woman anymore. I haven’t been for years. I’ve worked too hard to let my past define me. Meds or no meds, I don’t want to be that person again.”

I looked away, staring at the water like it held the rest of my confession. “On meds, that urgency, that hunger? It’s muted. Like someone turned the volume down on a song I used to play on repeat.”

Landon exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “So now, when you’re with me… it’s different?”

I nodded. “With you, it’s not about silencing something. It’s about feeling everything.”

A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken. He reached out, tracing his fingers along the inside of my wrist, where my pulse thrummed beneath his touch. “I don’t want you muted, Nae. I want you real, even when it’s hard.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you. I wasn’t taking my meds properly until this past month, here in Austin. But I’ve seen the difference. You saw it too. Before, I could go three days without sleep. Here, I’ve been able to rest. When you made me be still, when you forced me to sit in the quiet, I finally let my body relax, even when I wasn’t taking them.”

He frowned. “I wouldn’t say I forced you to relax.”

“It felt forced sometimes,” I admitted. “I’m like a kid who doesn’t want to go to bed. I never know how I’ll wake up. That’s the hardest part… never knowing when the darkness is going to come for me. But being here with you, with everyone, it has made it easier.”

I traced my fingers over his chest, grounding myself in the steady beat of his heart. “Can you love me like this? Knowing all of it?”

Landon scratched at his growing beard, studying me, his expression unreadable. “It’s a lot… but so am I.”

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