Page 31 of Carry On

“Well, that relationship—whatever it is—is a positive step for you,” Dr. Lowe replied. “I know it’s been hard for you.”

“You don’t know a damn thing,” I retorted. That was a lie. She knew a lot more than I wanted her to.

“I know that you’ve been in the ER five times in eight years,” she said. “And this is the first time you’ve come in for help.”

“I didn’t. He called for an ambulance without asking me. I want to be real damn clear about that fact. I don’t want to be here. I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

“Then talk to me because I’m not letting you leave here until you do.”

“You can’t hold me.”

“You’re a psychiatric risk and a risk to yourself, Nash,” she reminded me. “You’re a frequent flyer for suicide attempts. You know that.”

I did. It wasn’t like I was oblivious to my history. I just hadn’t been successful.

Failure is what you’re good at,the voice commented.

A-fucking-men.

”I need to know that you’re okay before I tell them it’s okay to discharge you,” Dr. Lowe was saying.

“I’m fine,” I reiterated, pissed off because I knew she was right. I didn’t want to spend another minute in this stupid hospital. “I didn’t ask to be here, I took the goddamn medication, and he’s my… friend.”

Friendwas stretching it when it came to Lincoln, but I’d say anything to get out of there. And fuck, she didn’t look remotely impressed with me.

Why would she be?the voice asked.Everyone knows you’re a liar… just one foot out the door all the time.

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she said, and I sighed. I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay in a long fucking time. That was the reality of my life. And so I remained silent because I didn’t have a good response. “Where are you going when you leave the hospital, Nash?”

“To Lincoln’s,” I told her without hesitation, not because I planned to, but because I knew it’d make her happy.

“Are you living with him?”

“No, but sometimes I crash there.” Another lie. I could see the way the wheels in her head turned as she weighed the validity of my words. “Sometimes.”

One time was sometime.

“At least you’re honest,” she said. “I’m not going to hold you, Nash, but I’m not buying your bullshit, either. You need stability, and you know that.”

“At least you’re honest.” I threw it right back at her and didn’t care if I sounded like an asshole. Stability was a pipe dream for someone like me. My life was one vicious cycle of disappointment and the inability to crawl out of the never-ending hole I’d found myself in.

Not that you try,the voice stated.

There was that too.

CHAPTER 24

LINCOLN

I’msofuckingtiredof fighting.” Those were the exact words Nash had used. They were stuck on repeat in my head. He’d said them to me about my request for him to spend the night and recover at my place, but something about the words hit deep. So much deeper than the concept of a night in a decent bed.

I wanted nothing more than to believe it was just about being too tired to fight me, and for the night, I chose to believe it. I ignored the hair-raising feeling that slipped through me and stuck to my bones.

“Here we go all over again,” I murmured as I let us both into my home. I flipped on the little hallway entry light, and that was it. While Nash seemed pretty mellow after all the medication at the hospital, I didn’t want the light to bother him. I paused and took my shoes off as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. After a moment, he did the same, kicking his boots off on the mat.

“I said thank you,” Nash snapped. The anger in his voice made me uncomfortable. I stopped what I was doing to stare at him—probably glare at him. I wasn’t about to be his punching bag, and I made sure my expression reflected that sentiment. He relented quickly. “I’m sorry.”