Page 50 of Unholy Confessions
"I want to save him." The words come out before I can stop them, raw and desperate. "I want to force him into rehab and make him get clean and fix this whole mess so we can go back to how things were before."
"But?"
"But I know I can't do that. I know that's not how it works." I lean back against the couch cushions, suddenly exhausted. "God, Sky, I'm so scared for him. I'm scared he's going to end up like some of Dad's old friends—dead before thirty from an overdose. Or in jail. Or just... lost."
Skylar squeezes my hands. "Those are valid fears. Addiction is serious, and the statistics aren't great. But Montgomery, you can't control his choices. You can't love someone into sobriety."
"Then what can I do?"
"You can decide what you're willing to accept in your own life. You can set boundaries. You can tell him how you feel and what you need from him if he wants to be with you. But ultimately, he has to want to get clean. He has to want to change. And he has to do the work."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, even though I know she's right. "That's what Dad's counselor told Mom during family therapy. That she couldn't make him get sober—he had to want it for himself."
"And did he? Want it for himself?"
I think back to those dark years, trying to remember the moment things shifted. "Eventually, yeah. But it took almost losing everything. Mom was ready to leave him. The band was falling apart. I was having panic attacks at school because I was so worried about what I'd find when I got home." I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "He hit rock bottom hard, and that's when he finally admitted he needed help."
"Some people need to hit rock bottom before they're ready to climb back up."
"But what if RJ's rock bottom is death? What if he doesn't get the chance to choose recovery?" The fear in my voice is palpable, even to me.
Skylar doesn't have an easy answer for that, and I'm grateful she doesn't try to give me false reassurance. Instead, she pulls me into another hug, holding me tightly while I process everything we've talked about.
"I hate feeling this helpless," I whisper against her shoulder.
"I know, babe. I know."
We sit in silence for a while, and gradually my breathing returns to normal. The crying has left me drained but somehow clearer. As if it washed away some of the fear.
"Can I ask you something else?" Skylar says eventually.
"Sure."
"Are you prepared for the possibility that he might not choose recovery? That he might choose the drugs over you, over his career, over everything?"
The question makes my stomach clench, but I force myself to really consider it. "I don't know. I want to say yes, that I could walk away if I had to. But honestly? The thought of giving up on him feels almost as scary as watching him use."
"That's understandable. But Montgomery, you have to protect yourself too. You can't set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm."
"I know. I just—" I stop, trying to find the right words. "I keep thinking about the person he is when he's not using. The way he makes me laugh, the way he listens when I talk about my writing, the way he holds me when I get worried about my dad. That person is worth fighting for."
"But is he willing to fight for himself?"
"I don't know. And that's what's killing me."
Skylar leans back to look at me. "What if you talked to him? Not about the drugs specifically, but about your future together. About what you need from a partner. Let him know where you stand without giving him an ultimatum."
"You think that would help?"
"I think it would give you both clarity. He'd know what's at stake, and you'd know whether he's willing to fight for what you could have together."
The idea terrifies me, but it also feels like the only path forward that doesn't involve me completely giving up or completely enabling him. "What if he chooses the drugs?"
"Then you'll know. And as much as it would hurt, at least you wouldn't spend months or years wondering what might have been."
I nod slowly, feeling something like resolve beginning to form in my chest. "I need to think about what I want to say to him."
"Take your time. This isn't a conversation you want to rush into."
