Page 58 of Only With Me

“Our friendJake?”

He nods.

“You’re shittin’ me. I’m gonna beat his ass.”

“It ain’t his fault,” he defends. “I asked him for some.”

“Not his fault? Why the hell is he sellin’ illegal drugs?”

“He ain’t sellin’ ’em, but he said they’re helpin’ for some of his issues, and I thought they could help for mine.”

“What issues does he have?”

“I’m not gonna air out his personal shit. You’re gonna haveta ask him and see if he tells ya.”

He won’t get the chance to after I knock him out. Jake knows I’m constantly worrying about Wilder and for him to do this feels like a betrayal.

“So you thought you’d try some street ketamine instead of gettin’ medication legally from a doctor?”

“They’ll only prescribe it if you talk to a therapist.”

“Uh, yeah…that’s kinda the point.”

“I ain’t doin’ that.”

“Christ. You’re so goddamn stubborn. You coulda died!”

“I didn’t even take that much! It musta been mixed with something else or I had a bad reaction to it because it bottomed out my blood pressure, which is why I lost consciousness. When I finally woke up, I was dizzy as shit, too.”

“And if I hadn’t found ya when I did, you coulda gone into organ failure, shock, sepsis, ordied…” When I overheard the doctor explaining it to our parents, I saw red at just the possibilities of what could’ve happened to him.

“But ya did find me, so we don’t need to worry about it.”

“Yeah, this time. What about the next? And the next after that? God forbid I make a life outside of babysittin’ your ass and find a wife and have some kids. But I can’t do that, can I?”

His brows pinch and he jerks back as if I’ve slapped him. “Why not?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

His hands rise and fall, smacking against his thighs. “I guess not. Spell it out for me like I’m five.”

Fitting considering his maturity level.

My shoulders lift, deciding to no longer sugarcoat it. “You refuse to get help, and I’ve tried to be understanding and sympathetic to you not wantin’ to go that route, but in the meantime, you use alcohol and sex as a copin’ mechanism. I pick you up from the bar at least three times a week, sometimes more, so you don’t get behind the wheel and wrap your truck around a tree. Or worse, kill someone else.”

“You know I never drive when I’ve been drinkin’.”

“Because I’m always there to pick you up! And you know that. So while you’re out actin’ a fool, I’m draggin’ my ass out of bed to get yours. I can’t even fully blame you because I’ve enabled it for so long.”

It’s hard not to when the alternative is risking him making drunk decisions that could hurt him or others.

“Okay, fine…I’ll call an Uber from now on. Will that help your sex life?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying my hardest not to lose my cool. “You don’t get it, and I don’t think you want to.”

Standing, I step around the chair to leave, but his panicked voice stops me. “Okay, wait. Don’t go.”

Arching a brow, I keep my feet planted. “What?”