Page 5 of Only With Me

“What about seein’ to a therapist? Or psychiatrist? Get somethin’ to help with the depression so it’s at least a bit more bearable when you feel it takin’ over your mind.”

“I did all that before, remember? The meds made me feel numb as shit—and not in a good way—and gave me the worstneurological side effects. Talkin’ about my teenage problems to an adult just made me feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not, and there are other variations of meds you can try. It ain’t a one-size-fits-all drug. Everyone’s brain chemistry responds differently to medication. You gotta keep tryin’ till you find the right ones.”

“That sounds like a pain in the ass,” he mutters.

“Youare a pain in the ass,” I retort.

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. What else is new?”

“Nothin’ apparently.” I snort, though he knows I’m only giving him shit. “I better let the others in so you can finally get some rest.”

Standing, I lean over the bed and wrap my arms around him. He’s stiff at first, not sure if he should reciprocate, but eventually, he does.

“I love you, ya know?” I tell him, leaning back.

He rests his head back on the pillow and nods. “Yeah, I love ya too.”

I step around the chair to walk toward the door, but then he grabs my attention. “Waylon.”

Facing him, I lift a brow. “Yeah?”

His tortured expression makes my heart sink. “I’m sorry for puttin’ you through this again.”

One side of my mouth lifts at how genuine he sounds. Although my emotions are threatening to spill over at seeing him like this, I force a small smile to give him some reassurance. “I know. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He nods firmly with pursed lips, fighting back his own emotions.

When I go toward the exit, there’s a stabbing pain in my chest that has me blowing out a sharp breath. I swear, he’s going to give me a heart attack one day. These anxiety attacks comeand go, mostly during high-stress situations, but nevertheless, they’re annoying and inconvenient.

Before I get to the hallway, one of Wilder’s machines beeps at an ungodly high-pitched volume. A nurse barrels in before I even have time to turn around and see what’s going on.

His eyes are rolled back as his body convulses.

“What’s happening?” I blurt to the nurse, but she ignores me as she holds his head in place.

More nurses enter, pulling me out of the way, and soon, I’m standing at the end of his bed, watching helplessly.

“What’s goin’ on?” Dad asks as he and Mom walk in. My siblings are close behind.

“I-I dunno. We were talkin’ and he was fine, but then suddenly, he?—”

“He’s seizing,” one of the nurses responds. “I need everyone out, please. I’ll come get you when he’s stabilized.”

Another nurse pushes us out into the hallway. My chest feels like it’s going to explode and there’s nothing I can do about it because my twin brother—my other half who shares similar feelings and physical pain with me—is in there, fighting for his life.

And mine.

Because my life will be over if he doesn’t survive this.

Chapter One

Waylon

PRESENT DAY

“Goddamn!” Wilder whistles. “It’s a full house tonight.”