Page 68 of Unholy Confessions
"Just let me get this out." I reach up and put my fingers over his mouth, and even that simple touch sends electricity through me, makes me want to forget everything and just kiss him until we're both breathless. "I love you. God, RJ, I love you so much it scares me sometimes. I love you so much I don't know how to exist without you."
He nods against my fingers, swallowing roughly, his eyes already bright with tears that mirror my own.
The words feel like they're being ripped from my soul, each one tearing something vital inside me. "But we haven't been good together in the past few months. We've been drowning each other instead of saving each other. I've been enabling you without meaning to, and you've been using me as an excuse to avoid dealing with your problems. We need to figure out what makes us happy, what makes us whole, before we can be whole together."
The truth of it settles between us like a weight. For months before he left, we'd been caught in this toxic cycle – him using, both of us pretending everything was fine while our relationship crumbled around us.
RJ's eyes close, and when he opens them again, they're swimming with tears that threaten to spill over. "You're right," he says, his voice cracking completely. "That might even mean us being with other people." The words seem to physically hurt him to say, his whole body flinching like someone's hitting him. "Jesus, Montgomery, it's killing me to even think about that. The idea of you with someone else makes me want to tear the world apart, but we both know we can't keep destroying each other like we were."
Hayden's face flashes through my mind, and the guilt hits me like a truck. "There's something I need to tell you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "While you were gone... Hayden has been helping me get through it. Taking me to dinner, letting me cry on his shoulder, being there when I was falling apart."
RJ's jaw tightens, and I can see him trying to process this information without letting his jealousy consume him. "Okay," he says carefully.
"He told me he has feelings for me," I continue, the words feeling like poison on my tongue. "And I... I need to be honest. I've been leaning on him in ways that weren't fair to any of us. I never cheated on you, not physically, but emotionally..." I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.
The pain that crosses RJ's face is devastating, but he doesn't lash out, doesn't accuse me of anything. He just nods slowly, like he's been expecting this. "I can't be angry about that," he whispers. "I left you. I disappeared without a word and left you to deal with everything alone. Of course you found someone to help you through it."
"But I should have been stronger," I say, tears streaming down my face now. "I should have waited, should have?—"
"No," he interrupts, shaking his head. "Montgomery, you don't owe me anything. I forfeited the right to expect anything from you the day I chose drugs over you for the hundredth time. That night I called you a bitch? That was a turning point, and that was my fault."
The words hang between us, brutal in their honesty. Because that's what happened, isn't it? Every time he used, every time he lied, every time he chose getting high over being present with me, he was choosing his addiction over our relationship.
I'm sobbing now, ugly crying in a way that should embarrass me but doesn't because this is RJ and he's seen every part of me, including the ugly parts. "I know, and it's killing me too. But maybe... maybe if we're meant to be together, we need to choose each other from a place of strength, not desperation."
"I can't be the reason you don't become who you're supposed to be," he whispers, reaching up to cup my face with hands that are steadier than they've been in months. "I've already stolen too much from you. Your peace, your happiness, your trust. I won't steal your future too."
"And I can't be the reason you don't get the help you need to stay clean," I whisper back, leaning into his touch despite myself. "We both know I've been your crutch sometimes instead of your support. I was so scared of losing you that I lost myself instead."
The admission hurts to say out loud, but it's true. I'd become so focused on saving him that I'd stopped living my own life. Isolated myself from everyone except him because I was convinced that if I just loved him hard enough, if I just tried hard enough, I could fix him.
But you can't love someone into recovery. I know that now.
He lets out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing the paper ring on my finger like it's made of the most precious metal. "I learned something in treatment," he says quietly. "I learned that I was using you as my emotional crutch, and that wasn't fair. Every time I felt overwhelmed or scared or angry, I'd either turn to drugs or turn to you to fix it for me. I never learned how to cope with my own emotions because I always had something or someone else to do it for me."
The words cut deep because they're true. I'd thought I was being supportive, but maybe I was just enabling him in a different way.
"But RJ..." I lean forward and cup his face in my hands, memorizing every line, every shadow, every detail I've missed for five weeks. "Before we do this, I need you to know something."
I kiss him then, pouring everything I can't say into it. All my love, all my fear, all my hope for what we could be someday if we both do the work we need to do. My tears mix with his, and it tastes like forever and heartbreak all at once.
His hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer, and for a moment we're just RJ and Montgomery again, the couple who fell in love over late-night conversations and shared dreams. The couple who made paper rings out of straw wrappers and called them promises.
When I finally pull away, I press my forehead to his, our breathing ragged, our hearts hammering in sync.
"No matter what happens, no matter who we become or where we go, we'll always have the paper rings. They'll always mean something. You'll always be the love of my life, even if we're not supposed to be together right now."
He's full-on crying now, his whole body shaking with the force of his emotions. "You are, though. You always will be. There's never going to be anyone else like you, Montgomery. You're it for me, you're everything, and if I have to spend the rest of my life becoming worthy of you, I will."
"You don't have to become worthy of me," I say fiercely. "You have to become worthy of yourself. You have to learn to love yourself enough to stay clean, to make good choices, to build a life you're proud of. Not for me, not for your family, but for you."
The words are hard to say because part of me wants him to do it for me, wants to be important enough to be his reason for getting better. But I've learned enough about addiction to know that recovery has to be selfish, has to come from within, or it won't stick.
We sit there for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, holding each other and crying and trying to memorize this moment before everything changes. The sun is setting behind us, painting everything in shades of gold and pink, and I can't help but think how fitting it is. The end of our day, the end of our relationship as we know it.
"I should go," I finally whisper, even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to stay.
"I know," he whispers back, but neither of us moves.
