Page 64 of Unholy Confessions
Hayden runs a hand through his hair, and I can see the frustration building in his shoulders, the way his jaw ticks when he's trying to control his temper. "Montgomery, it's time for you to decide what you want to do about RJ, because you can't keep stringing both of us along."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I feel the blood drain from my face, feel the world tilt sideways. "Both of us?" My voice comes out strangled, disbelieving. "Hayden, you're my friend. You know that RJ is my boyfriend."
But even as I say it, I can hear how hollow it sounds. RJ's been gone for five weeks. He'll have one week to re-acclimate before he goes on tour. Five weeks of radio silence, of not knowing if he's okay, if he's getting better, if he even wants me to wait for him. Five weeks of Hayden being there to catch me when I fall apart, of dinners and movies and late-night conversations that feel too intimate for friendship.
"Am I just your friend?" He steps closer, and I can smell his cologne, can see the pain in his eyes. "Because you're hanging out more with me than you are your boyfriend, so maybe you should think about that."
The accusation hangs in the air between us, and I want to deny it, want to tell him he's wrong, but the words stick in my throat because he's not entirely wrong. I have been leaning on him, using him as a crutch to get through the unbearable weight of missing RJ. I've been letting him take me to dinner, letting him hold me when I cry, letting him fill the RJ-shaped void in my life because the alternative is drowning in my own grief.
"That's not..." I start, but the words die because I can't finish the sentence. I can't lie to him, and I can't lie to myself anymore.
"Isn't it?" Hayden's voice is gentle but insistent. "Montgomery, when's the last time you went a day without texting me? When's the last time you made a decision without asking my opinion first? When's the last time you didn't call me when you were upset?"
Every question is like a dagger to the chest because I know the answers. I know that somewhere along the way, in my desperate attempt to survive RJ's absence, I've been building something with Hayden that looks suspiciously like the relationship I'm supposed to be having with someone else. It's co-dependent and it's awful.
"I miss him," I whisper, and it sounds pathetic even to my own ears. "I miss him so much I can't breathe sometimes. You don't understand – he's not just my boyfriend, he's my best friend, he's my whole world, and I don't know how to exist without him."
"I do understand," Hayden says, and his voice is softer now, sadder. "I understand because I've been watching you break apart piece by piece for weeks. I've been putting you back together every night, and I'm falling for you while you're falling apart over someone else."
The confession hits me like a bomb, and I take a step back, shaking my head. "Hayden, no. You can't – we can't –"
"Why not?" he asks, and there's desperation in his voice now. "Montgomery, he left. He chose drugs over you, chose his addiction over your relationship. When are you going to stop waiting for someone who might never come back?"
"He didn't choose anything," I snap, my voice fierce despite my tears. "He's sick, Hayden. He's getting help. That's not the same as leaving me."
"Isn't it?" He steps closer again, and I can see the pain in his eyes, the frustration of wanting someone who's completely unavailable. "You don't even know how to pronounce the name of his rehab center. You don't know when he's coming back, or if he's coming back. You don't know if he even wants you to wait."
"Of course he wants me to wait," I say, but my voice lacks conviction. Because the truth is, I don't know. I don't know anything. RJ could be falling in love with his therapist for all I know. He could be realizing that his life is better without me in it, that I was just another addiction he needed to break.
"Does he?" Hayden asks gently. "Because someone who wanted you to wait would have found a way to let you know he was okay. Someone who wanted you to wait wouldn't have left you completely in the dark."
The words cut deep because there's truth in them, truth I've been trying not to face. If RJ wanted me to wait, wouldn't he have found a way to contact me? Wouldn't he have made sure I knew he was okay, that he was thinking of me?
"He's in treatment," I say weakly. "They probably don't allow contact."
"Some places do," Hayden says quietly. "Some places allow letters, or supervised phone calls. The fact that you haven't heard anything..." He trails off, letting me fill in the blanks myself.
I sink into one of the conference room chairs, feeling like my legs can't support me anymore. Everything he's saying is worming its way into my brain, planting seeds of doubt that I've been trying so hard to keep from growing.
"I love him," I whisper, and it's the only truth I'm sure of anymore.
"I know you do," Hayden says, sitting down beside me. "But Montgomery, love isn't always enough. And you can't spend your whole life waiting for someone who might not be coming back."
I look down at the paper ring on my finger, at this stupid, fragile thing that's been my lifeline for weeks. It looks so pathetic now, so childish. A grown woman wearing trash on her ring finger, clinging to promises made by a man who might not even remember making them.
"What kind of person does that make me?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "If I... if I give up on him? What kind of person gives up on the person they love when they need help the most?"
"It makes you human," Hayden says gently. "It makes you someone who deserves to be happy, someone who deserves to be with a person who can actually be present in your life."
I want to argue with him, want to defend RJ and our love and the promises we made to each other. But I'm so tired. I'm so fucking tired of hurting all the time, of missing someone so desperately it feels like dying, of putting my life on hold for someone who might never come back.
"I don't know how to let go of him," I admit, and the words feel like a betrayal.
"You don't have to let go," Hayden says. "You just have to stop letting him take you down with him."
The conference room is empty now except for us, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows. Everything feels surreal, like I'm watching this conversation happen to someone else.
"I need time," I say finally. "I need to think."
