Page 19 of All In
“I’ll call the cops,” I said, brandishing the cell in front of me like a gun. “I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Is that what you want?”
He didn’t move. I felt something start to crack in me. The eggshell-thin barrier I’d erected against the grief. A levee against the river of soul-deep pain.
“I swear to God, Teddy, I’ll call the police,” I said, my voice trembling.
A muscle in Theo’s jaw twitched but his gaze was unbreakable.
My breath started hitching, getting no deeper than my throat, and my hands were shaking so badly, I nearly dropped the phone. I threw it at Theo instead.
“Get out.”
He inclined his head slightly, didn’t even flinch as the phone sailed to the right of his ear and smashed against the wall.
“I mean it, Teddy. Get thefuckout!”
I grabbed a couch cushion and hurled it at him. It landed at his feet. The second cushion hit him square in the chest and bounced off. I was screaming now, as I dug through my purse for objects to throw at him. My wallet, a compact, a wad of tissues. Everything missed or fluttered to the floor. Finally, with a hysterical cry, I swung the purse itself, like a shot-put. It careened across the room, the force swinging me halfway around. I lost my balance and fell to my knees. The impact against the hardwood crackled through me, and I hunched over, hugging myself to keep from breaking apart.
He won’t leave.
“I’m sorry,” I cried, my face aching with the strain of holding back the river. “I’m so sorry, Teddy, but go. Please go. I don’t want you to see me like this…”
He won’t leave.
He won’t ever leave. He’s strong and healthy and well and he won’t leave…
I heard the creak of floorboards, felt them shift under my kneecaps. Theo’s booted foot appeared in the murky blur of my vision. When he spoke, his voice was a mountain.
“I’m staying here.” He knelt beside me and picked up my head. His large hands held my face, brushed the hair from my eyes and made me look at him. His hard gaze implored me to give in. Let go. But the terror of jumping in the river and confronting my grief wouldn’t let me. I needed to drink. I needed tostaydrunk, or I’d die.
I’d drown.
I opened my mouth to tell him that, and the words came out all wrong.
“I need help.” I whispered. The words were cool in my mouth. My skin felt feverish, my tears were scalding as they streamed down my cheeks to his fingers that held me. Everything hurt. Except the words.
“Help me,” I said, swallowing it like cool, clear water in the desert. “Please. Help me.”
Theo’s hands spread wide on my face. His eyes shone. “I will,” he said. “I’m here and I’ll help you.”
I searched his eyes, desperate to believe him, clutching his black T-shirt and twisting it in my hands. He was telling the truth. There was nothing about Theo that wasn’t solid and honest and fiercely loyal. I’d seen the same conviction in his eyes when he’d held Jonah’s hand through that awful biopsy. And now he was offering the same to me.
But I couldn’t quit the booze. I couldn’t survive it. I collapsed against him, sobbing hard but not turning myself inside out. Not yet. The urge to drink was furious and malevolent. It had sunk its teeth deep into me and wouldn’t be purged so easily. But I’d begun. I clung to Theo, and he held me tight, the solidity of his presence bolstering me, as if he were lending me some of his strength. After a few minutes, he shifted off his knees to sit on the floor. I wiped my eyes on his sleeve.
“I’ve been drunk every day for six months.”
I felt him nod against the crown of my head.
“It’s going to hurt bad, isn’t it?”
The nod grew bigger. “Maybe you should see someone. A doctor…”
“No.” I hauled myself off the floor. Theo rose too, steadying me when I wobbled. “I looked it up a month ago, when I had a bad night and thought about quitting. Hospital rehab programs give you drugs to cope with withdrawal. Drugs that make you feel nothing.”
I looked up at him, clutching his forearms, still needing his strength.
“I have to feel everything, don’t I? Feeling is the whole damn point. Because it’s not just the booze I’m getting out of my system.”
He nodded. “You can do this, Kace.”
