Page 177 of Sinful Like Us

He’s here as someone else.

My confidante in life. My right-hand. My wingman.

My hope and future.

I blink backthefeeling, the surge, the swell that causes my breath to stagger.

“What do you need to tell me?” Beckett questions, just having stepped inside the tower room. Floral tattoos spindle down his arm, only in a black muscle tee. Beads of sweat are built on his forehead, and damp pieces of his dark hair hang over a rolled bandana.

Like he just finished a workout.

He must not be cold because he glides across the room and leans against the windowsill. The chilliest area.

Charlie closes the door and flips the lock, but Beckett doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He just crosses his arms, calm but not content.

He looks anxious these extra days here and without contact back home. “What is it?”

“Do you plan to use drugs when we return home?” I ask.

Beckett lets out an aggravated breath and looks from me, to Charlie, then to Thatcher, realizing that this is aboutcocaine.“I’ve been in Scotland for almost three weeks—have you seen withdrawal symptoms from me even once?”

Stay strong.I don’t cower. I take three steps, closing the gap between us. “No, but that doesn’t change the facts. You’re using cokeeveryday you have a performance. That’s six times a week.” My eyes widen. “That’s not healthy. You could have a heart attack, a stroke, and you’re destroying your nasal lining from snorting it.”

“I don’t need a Web M.D. side effect rundown, sis. And if you want to give me one, you better tell him too.” He nods towards his twin brother.

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Please.” Thepleaseis a bitter one.

“No.” Beckett stands up to his full height, two inches shorter than Charlie. “You act like I’m the addict because I’m doing coke. But you’re taking God-knows-what from God-knows-who. I mean, peyote? Really?”

Charlie blinks. “You’re twisting this. You know I don’t take drugs regularly.”

“So just because I’m careful with coke every day, I’m the addict.” He nods. “Okay, sure, I think Mom and Dad will buy that logic. How about we have a meeting when we’re home? They can hear what you’ve been up to.” He counts on his fingers. “LSD, ecstasy—”

“You wouldn’t,” Charlie interjects, casual and unconcerned. “I’ll call your bluff every time,brother.”

I jump in. “It’s every day, Beckett. But what happens when you grow a tolerance and you have to start using it twice a day just to achieve the same high? Then three times. Four. Then you’re doing meth—”

“No.” He rubs his temples with both hands. “Why aren’t you listening to me? Hear what I’m saying. I’m not using any more thanoncea day.”

“Did it start out like that?” I counter.

He goes quiet, but his glare intensifies. It burns me up. I feel Thatcher’s presence behind me, silently telling me he’s here. AndI’mstrong. I can do this.

Plan Z.

“Substance addiction runs in the Hale and Meadows families, Beckett,” I say, fighting back tears. “You say you’re not an addict. Fine. But I can’t just sleep soundly knowing you’re in New York using cocaine every night just because you believe it helps you dance better. Iwon’tdo that.”

He shakes his head, pained.

My throat swells but I keep talking. “I’ve imagined what happens in a year or two or three. I’m going to receive a phone call from Charlie or god-forbid Eliot or Tom. And they’re going to tell me that it was an accident. That maybe it was laced with something or you just took too much that night. And you’ll just be another rich kid killed too early from a drug that caters to the wealthy and bored. A sad statistic marked in your Wikipedia page. While our family has to mourn you every day for the rest of our lives. Because you will leave a gaping, miserable hollow hole.Toujours.”Forever.

Tears roll down his cheeks, matching mine.

With reddened eyes, he says, “You can’t make me stop.” It’s the truest thing he’s ever said. Addiction is a wretched monster, and the only one who can truly defeat addiction is the addict.

We’ve learned well enough from our family. We can do everything in our power to help Beckett, but at the very end, he has to want to help himself.

And he’s not even close to that point yet. So we are fighting the greatest losing battle with our brother.