Page 35 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

SANTINO

Sebastian keeps me company the whole time Hayden’s in his appointment.

This guy is like, a genius. His brain operates at five times the speed of a normal human.

He texts me ideas for the second scene I’m supposed to do with Hayden.

Then ideas for maybe a third. Then how we can promote the entire series. And on and on and on.

By the time Dr. Tina’s door opens, my head is spinning with everything Sebastian wants me to do. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a lot. But that’s a good thing. It means I have a place here. It means I belong.

Hayden practically stumbles out of Dr. Tina’s office. His cheeks are splotchy. The tip of his nose is red. His eyes are all puffy and swollen. He’s been crying, obviously. And it looks like it was a hard cry.

I shoot to my feet, rushing to steady him before he tumbles to the floor. Glancing past him, I don’t see Dr. Tina following him out. Is that a good sign? A bad one?

“What happened? Are you okay?” I ask, brushing my fingers over his face and through his hair.

Hayden takes a deep breath and sighs. “I… think so?”

He looks dazed and lost. Like he’s just gotten off a rollercoaster and can’t tell which way is up. I want to grill him and ask him all the questions. What did you talk about? What did she say? What’s going to happen now? But Hayden can barely keep his eyes open. I need to get him home.

We hail a rideshare downstairs and Hayden immediately slouches down to rest his head on my shoulder. I think he’s asleep before the car even pulls away from the curb. I pull my phone out.

Santino

Hayden’s out. I’m taking him home.

Sebastian

How is he?

Wiped.

I’ll check in a bit later.

Hayden doesn’t stir the entire ride home and I feel terrible waking him up when we arrive. His steps are heavy as we climb the stairs and the second we’re in the apartment, he heads directly to his room.

Hayden flops on the bed, eyes already closed. He makes a soft sound at the back of his throat and reaches out one hand to me. As if he knows I’m here. As if he knows I will always take his hand when he reaches for me.

I toe off my shoes and climb into bed with him. He curls himself around me and in less than three seconds, his breathing evens out, slow and steady.

I study his face as he sleeps, the light fan of his lashes across his cheeks, the curl of his bottom lip where it connects to his chin, the angle of his nose.

I wish I could say he was more peaceful when asleep, but he flinches every once in a while, like maybe he’s fighting off demons even in the dream world.

Mom used to get tired like this after her therapy appointments too. As if rather than spending the hour talking, she was put through a boot camp instead. It’ll get easier for Hayden over time, but at least we’ve taken the first step.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but it feels like hours later when my brain pushes me toward consciousness again.

My vision is blurry when I open them and it takes me a moment to notice Hayden is awake beside me.

His head is on the pillow next to mine. His face only inches away.

And he’s watching me with such tenderness in his gaze.

“Hey.” My voice is groggy. “What time is it? How long was I out for?” I reach up to rub the heels of my hands in my eyes.

“Not long.”

I drop my hands back down and turn onto my side so we’re facing each other. His eyes are still puffy and red, but he looks way more alert and present than he did this morning.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, hoping with every cell in my body he’s doing better than before.

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug and his lips quirk up in one corner. “I’m okay.”

Okay is good. I’ll take an okay.

“What did Dr. Tina say?”

“She wants to see me again. Every week. She said I’m probably grieving. And I probably have depression.”

That’s pretty much what we were expecting, so I’m not surprised. But it’s good to have my theory confirmed by a professional. “And… how do you feel about that?”

Hayden’s half-smile grows. “You sound just like Dr. Tina.”

I cringe. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

Hayden nestles in closer so our noses almost touch. “It’s okay. I want to tell you. I just… I’m not sure how to feel about it. Like, there’s treatment for depression, right? So that’s good. But like, how the hell did I get depression?”

I chuckle. “You make it sound like a contagious disease.”

Hayden gets a wry look on his face. “Sometimes it feels like it.”

We share a look, an unspoken understanding passing between us. There’s still a long way to go and a lot of work needs to be done before Hayden gets back to the person he used to be. But we’re doing something about it. And we’ll do it together.

“You want to order something for dinner?” I ask, running through some of the places we’ve ordered from in the past few days.

“Actually…” Hayden’s eyes go all wide and puppy-dog. “Do you want to help me cook?”

I don’t even need to think about it. I’ll never say no to Hayden’s cooking. “Hell, yeah, I do.” I jump from the bed, all traces of sleepiness gone.

Hayden follows a little more slowly. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Anything. Literally. If you make it, I’ll eat it.”

He laughs out loud, the sound filling the apartment as we head to the kitchen. I smile at the way it bounces off the walls and makes the place feel so much brighter. That must be how the apartment felt before Hayden’s mental health took a turn for the worse. And that’s the way it’ll be again soon.

“How about seafood linguine?” Hayden asks, going through the cupboards and freezer.

“You can make seafood linguine?” I exclaim.

He gives me a look that’s half-sheepish and half-amused. Like, of course he can make seafood linguine. Why am I even surprised?

“That sounds amazing, babe,” I insert myself between him and the fridge to give him a long, lingering kiss. We stop only when the fridge starts beeping at us to shut the door.

Watching Hayden work in the kitchen might be one of my new favorite hobbies.

Every movement is so sure. The way he holds the knife when chopping up the garlic and onions.

How he swishes the butter around in the pan.

It’s like he’s a rock star and the kitchen is his instrument.

I’m so mesmerized by watching him, I don’t even realize he’s finished until he holds up two plates of steaming pasta.

“Can you grab us some cutlery?” Hayden asks as he brings the plates to the small table by the wall.

We’ve never actually used it before. Usually, we’ll just eat on the couch with something random playing on the TV. But Hayden sets the two plates down, then goes digging through another cupboard. He comes out with an armful of stuff—placemats, fancy cloth napkins, candles.

“Wow,” I murmur under my breath as Hayden decks out the table.

He slides the placemats under the plates and folds the napkins into neat triangles. He lights the candles, then turns off a couple overhead lights.

“Um, do you want some wine?” Hayden asks, almost nervously, wringing his hands.

I’m not a huge wine person, but if that’s what Hayden wants to drink, then I’m game. “Yeah, sure!”

Hayden grabs a bottle from the fridge. It’s been in there since I first got here, but it’s still new and sealed. Which makes me wonder if having wine for dinner was something he did on the regular before he started feeling unwell.

He pops the bottle, pours the wine into two fancy wine glasses and sets them next to each plate. Then he stands behind one chair and holds it out for me. My insides melt at this unexpected, yet incredibly romantic gesture. I thought we were just having dinner, but Hayden’s turned it into a dinner .

I let him push my chair in for me, then wait for him to take the other seat. I reach my hand out and he slots his fingers in between my own. Our palms press together.

“This is amazing, babe,” I say, gazing directly into Hayden’s eyes.

They reflect the flickering flames from the candles as he gazes right back at me. “I want to… do something, you know? Like, not just lie around feeling sorry for myself.”

I cock an eyebrow at his self-deprecating comment, but Hayden continues before I can object.

“I know, I know. But like, I’m so tired of being tired. I don’t want to lose any more time to this depression thing. I want to live.” His voice gets thick and a little unsteady as he speaks.

“I get it. Just, like, don’t push yourself too hard, alright?” I don’t want him to crash because he tried to take on too much too quickly.

He nods with a shy smile that makes my heart swell with so much love, it feels like my chest is going to burst. “I hope you like the pasta.”

I stab my fork into the noodles and twirl it around to pick up one giant mouthful. The groan when it hits my tongue is completely involuntary. “Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Hayden chuckles. “You always say that.”

“It’s true, though! This is so good. I can’t think of a single thing that tastes better right now.” I skewer a shrimp and pop it in my mouth. “Mmm, so good.”

A couple moments pass in silence as we’re both occupied with eating before Hayden speaks up again. “So…”

“Mmhmm?” I hum with my mouth still full.

“Dr. Tina mentioned something during my appointment.”

I swallow and set my fork down on my plate, refocusing my attention from the creamy, saucy linguine to Hayden. “Yeah?”

“She said… sometimes people with depression go on medication.” Hayden’s gaze is locked onto his plate where he’s pushing around a scallop.

I nod. “Yeah, Mom did that for a bit.” It didn’t magically cure her, but it helped manage her moods better. “Does Dr. Tina think you should go on medication?”

Hayden gives me a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe. She said she needs to see me a few more times before suggesting it. But she wanted me to know it could be an option.”

“What do you think about it?”

Hayden drops his fork and reaches for his glass of wine. He takes a few big gulps before answering. “I don’t know.”

He stares at nothing for a few beats and I can see the wheels turning in his mind.

“I’m not against it, I guess, if it’ll help. It’s just… it’s weird, admitting I have this thing, this illness. Like, I’m not physically sick, but I am up here.” He taps his temple with one finger.

Mental health really is a weird thing. There’s no X-ray or scan you can do to diagnose it. It’s not something you cut out or zap or wrap up in bandages, but it hurts just as much as any physical illness. It’s this invisible thing and yet it’s so real.

Suddenly, Hayden cringes and shakes his head. “Anyway, sorry. You probably don’t want to hear this.” He picks up his fork and nudges at the food on his plate.

“Hey.” I reach across the small table and grasp his hand to still it.

“I do want to hear this. I want to hear everything. Every thought that runs through that beautiful head of yours. Every lie the voice might try to convince you of. I want to hear it all. You don’t have to do this alone, remember? I’m here. I want to help.” I love you .

I want to tell him. Hell, I want to shout it from the rooftops so everyone in the whole damn city knows. But Hayden’s already been through the wringer today and I don’t want to put more stuff on him now.

Soon. I’ll tell him soon. I just have to find the right time.