Page 38

TWENTY-NINE

JAXON

My phone rings, jarring me from my restless sleep.

I tossed and turned the entire night, not able to sleep very well since Wesley didn’t call me after his meeting with Tech.

I asked if I should go with him, but he said it was something he had to do by himself.

I got that. He wanted to stand on his own and do what he needed to do because he was in the wrong.

Or at least that was what he said. If it were up to me, I’d be there for him through everything, letting him lean on me when he needed to.

I grab my phone and see Wesley’s name on the screen. All sleep leaves me as I sit up and answer quickly.

“Wesley, baby? You okay?”

Soft sobs greet me, and my back goes ramrod straight. “Jaxon. I need you.”

“Where are you?” I ask, jumping out of bed and pulling on the first pair of pants I can reach. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”

“Plymouth Hotel in Seattle. Please. Hurry.”

I look at the time on my phone. Three-fifty-one. There should be no traffic on the way to Seattle. “I’ll be there in an hour. What room?”

“23…25.”

“Stay on the phone with me, baby. Talk to me. Tell me what happened?”

I slip on a pair of shoes and grab my wallet and keys and rush out the door. My tires spin as I peel out of the driveway, pressing my foot to the pedal as I rush to Seattle.

“I can’t,” he whines. “I’m…still tired.” His voice trails off, and I notice for the first time his words slur. “And…I don’t feel so good.”

Oh fuck. Oh no. Please. He was doing so well. “Wes…”

“Hurry…please.” The call drops, and I curse, throwing my phone against the dashboard. It bounces around and falls into the passenger seat, but I don’t care. I just push harder on the accelerator, needing to get to Wesley.

Forty-five minutes later, I pull up in front of Plymouth Hotel. I’m sure someone will bitch about me leaving my car there, but I don’t give a fuck. My priority is getting to my man.

I dash inside and take the stairs up to the second floor, not in the mood to wait for the elevator. Once I’m on the second floor, I find the direction of room 2325 and dart that way. I knock frantically on the door, hoping I can wake Wes so he can answer.

“Baby, it’s me,” I shout, not giving a fuck about other guests sleeping. They’re not important right now. “Wesley, baby, it’s me. Open up.”

I knock and bang on the door until someone sticks their head out of another room. “Hey, buddy, stop banging before I call the manager.”

“Call the fucking manager,” I growl. I’m not usually a person that snaps on others that don’t deserve it, but Wesley is on the other side of that door, and he needs me.

I continue to knock and shout through the door. I don’t hear movement on the other side, and that scares me. He just called me. Surely something didn’t happen to him in that small amount of time.

Right?

The elevator dings, and two men in business attire walk toward me.

One of them stops a few paces away from me, his hands at his sides, facing palm out, as if to show me he’s not a threat. “Sir, I’m the hotel manager, Arthur Spokemore. We’ve gotten complaints. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “My boyfriend is in there, and he’s in trouble. I won’t leave until he answers the door.”

“Sir, the occupants of the room have already checked out. No one is in there. Now please?—”

“Open the fucking door then. Open the door and prove to me it’s empty.

He called me and told me he was here.” The man glances at the guy he walked down the hallway with, and I snap.

“Stop fucking looking at him! Open this fucking door, or I won’t leave.

Call the fucking cops, I don’t care. But I’m not going anywhere until I see for myself that he’s not in this fucking room! ”

The man sighs, but he motions for his partner to step forward. The second man swipes the key against the sensor, and it flashes green.

I grab the door handle and push through before he can open it for me. Immediately after bursting into the room, I see Wesley on the floor, his phone in his hand, but he’s not conscious.

“Oh, fuck. Wesley. Jesus fuck.” I rush over to him and pull his head onto my lap. With shaky hands, I check to see if he has a pulse and sob when I feel the steady thump under my fingertips, though it’s too slow for my liking.

Dimly, I hear the hotel manager on the phone with emergency services, but I can only focus on Wesley. His body is limp, his skin is clammy, and his lips have a blue tint to them.

I’m not an idiot—I know he overdosed on whatever he got his hands on. My heart hurts for him because he’s been trying so hard to avoid temptation.

What happened? What went wrong?

I glance around the room and see bottles of tequila and vodka scattered around the floor. The smell of the liquor invades my nose, making my stomach roil.

“Oh, baby,” I whisper as I stroke his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you. I swear, I got you.”

“Sir,” a new voice says, and I look up to see a paramedic at my shoulder. How the fuck did they get here so fast? “I’m sorry, but we need access to him.” The woman gives me a gentle smile meant to set me at ease. It does but only moderately. “You can be with him the entire time, I promise.”

Nodding, I gently lower his head down to the floor and slide back, allowing her and her colleagues to reach Wesley. She pulls something from her bag and places it under his nose. Nothing happens for what seems like forever, then Wes breathes in deeply and coughs, his eyes fluttering open.

A choked sob bursts out of me, and I try to rush over to him, but I’m blocked by the paramedics as they pick him up and place him on the gurney I didn’t notice.

Once he’s strapped down, they roll him quickly out of the room and into the elevator.

I just manage to squeeze in with him, pushing them out of the way so I can grab his hand .

Tears streak his face as he gazes up at me, regret all over his expression. “Jaxon…”

“Shhh. It’s alright. They’re going to get you some help, okay? I’ll be there for you.”

He nods, then turns his face away from me, gentle sobs making his body tremble.

Everything happens in a blur of activity, and I find myself driving frantically behind the ambulance.

When we get to the hospital, I rush inside and follow the gurney everywhere they go, keeping my eyes on Wesley the entire time. But he won’t meet my gaze. He purposely looks at everything else as he answers the doctor’s questions.

My heart twists as I listen to him chronicle everything he’s taken tonight. His voice is laced with regret as he talks, tears clouding his words.

Once the doctor is finished asking his questions, he gestures for me to step out of the room with him so we can talk in private.

“What is your connection to the patient?” he asks.

“He’s my husband,” I lie, thankful no one has recognized him and if they did, they haven’t made a thing out of it. HIPAA and all that shit.

He sighs and clicks his pen over and over, driving my anxiety up the wall. “It’s too soon to tell, but from the paramedics’ use of Narcan, he overdosed tonight. From everything that he’s used, I’m surprised he’s still alive.”

I pull my lips in and wrap my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together. So hard, he’s tried so hard to stay clean. He was doing so well, avoiding using or drinking, even when the temptation was in front of his face. I need to know what happened tonight so I can help him.

“Will he be okay? ”

“We’ll run some tests to be sure. He should be able to leave in a few hours after observation.”

I nod and shake his hand.

When I step back into the room, Wesley is asleep, the blanket pulled up to his chin as his chest rises and falls slowly.

Walking around the side of the bed, I sit in the chair that’s set up there and take his hand in mine. I push his hair back, and his pale face comes into view. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper to him over and over.

I wish I had been there to help him. He’ll beat himself up for this, I know it. He’ll think he’s broken. I’ll just have to help him pick up the pieces.

After a few minutes, I lean my head on the bed and close my eyes, holding his hand tight in mine so he won’t wake up and feel alone.

“Jaxon,” Wesley whispers, rubbing his hand through my hair.

My eyes flick open and I turn my head, looking up at him. His eyes are red-rimmed, and there are dark circles under them. “Hey,” I murmur. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he says, a single tear leaking from his eye. “I fucked up.”

I take his hand and kiss the back of it, sliding closer to the bed. “What happened? Can you tell me?”

He sucks in a jagged breath, then blows it out roughly. “I met with Tech, and he had…coke and liquor everywhere. I wasn’t strong enough to say no.” He curls in on himself and cries .

My heart clenching, I climb into the bed and hold him close, threading my fingers through his thick tresses to soothe him.

“I shouldn’t have done any of those drugs,” he cries. “I should have left. I was weak. So fucking weak. I need help, baby.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll get you help. I promise.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says through his tears. “I fucked up so bad. I’m sorry. You can’t have an addict for your boyfriend. I’m fucking trash. I’m no fucking good for you.”

“Please stop,” I say, my own tears sliding down my cheeks. “We’ll get you help. But you are good for me.”

“I’m not. I can’t be. Not like this.”

“We’ll get you help. I promise. I love you. You’re not alone in this.”

“Love might not be enough. I’ll keep failing, I know it. I’m fucking weak.”

“You’re not. You’re strong.”

He makes a noise in his throat.

“You are ,” I say vehemently. “You’re asking for help. That’s strength, baby.” I pause for a moment, then say, “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I’ll always be in love with you, and I’ll always help you. Do you hear me? Love will always be enough.”

The doctor comes in a few minutes later and tells him he needs to keep a monitor on his heart due to his years of drug use. He’s okay to leave, but he has to follow up with his primary care physician.

When he leaves, I look down at Wesley, finding that he’s already peering up at me. “What do you need, baby?”

“I gotta go back to rehab. I can’t be out right now, knowing what those drugs felt like in my system. I’ll just want more. I need an environment that will make it hard to get them until I’m strong enough to say no.”

My throat clogs with tears, but I simply nod. “Okay. When do you want to go?”

“Today if I can. I’m not sure how I’ll get there, but I need to go immediately.” He asks for his phone, and I pull it from my pocket and hand it to him. “I’ll call Zed and ask him to get me a space. Then I have to check myself in.”

Wesley talks to his manager, crying and apologizing for fucking up again and going back to the drugs. I can hear Zed soothing him, trying to calm him down.

When his sobs get too overwhelming, he hands me the phone, and I talk to Zed. “Hey,” I say, wrapping my arm tightly around Wesley, hoping my presence calms him. “What do I need to do?”

“I’m arranging him a slot in the rehab I admitted him into last time. They’re good, and they’re discreet. I’m also chartering a private jet for the two of you that will leave in three hours from an independent tarmac in Seattle.”

He promises to visit as soon as he’s able to have visitors and tells Wesley he loves him and he’s proud of him for seeking out help. Zed gives me a few more instructions and then we hang up.

I toss his phone down and wrap my arms tightly around Wes, kissing the top of his head as a steady stream of tears cascade down his face. “Listen to me.” He hiccups but nods. “I’m going to be there for you. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be there. You can do this. I know you can.”

“You really believe that?” he asks in a tear-drenched voice.

I tip his chin up so he can look at me. “I do. Every step of the way, Wesley. Do you understand? ”

“Yes,” he whispers, voice heavy with emotion. “I love you.”

“I love you too. You’ll get better. This is a setback, but it’s not a setup for the rest of your life.”

“Not a set up for the rest of my life,” he repeats solemnly but with conviction.

I gently kiss his lips, tasting his regret mingling with his tears. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll get through this.”

“It’s selfish for me to ask, and I feel like shit that I have to, but will you stay? Please don’t leave me. I can’t…I can’t take that right now.”

I chuckle humorlessly, pressing my forehead to his. “You don’t even have to ask. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”