Page 25 of Unholy Confessions (The Paper Rings Trilogy #1)

RJ

I 've loved spending time with Montgomery. This is the type of day I've missed since Grey Skies went on tour, and got back. This is what we've been missing, but I can't lie. I need something. I had so hoped I wouldn't be tempted, but my fucking hands are itching, and I only have a few pills left.

She's in my bedroom, changing for bed, and here I am pacing my living room, trying to figure out how I'm going to get my next hit without her knowing.

The little bit left in the baggie from yesterday is calling my name, but she's going to know.

Won't she? Yeah, she'll definitely know.

There are a few pills left in the pill vial, but that's in the pocket of my jeans, and I'm going to have to figure out how to get it without her knowing.

I spend so much time going back and forth with what I want to do, that I waste all my time. Before I realize it, she's coming down the stairs with a basket of clothes in her hands.

"You haven't done your laundry yet, RJ?" She teases. "Are you waiting for someone to do it for you?"

Schooling my features, I tease her back. "You know that you always help me when I come back from tour. Been waitin' on ya."

She rolls her eyes and carries my stuff into the laundry room.

Following behind her, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the door jam.

It's sexist of me, but I love it when she acts like my wife.

When she does the type of things I imagine that would be our life if we lived together, and she had my ring around her finger, if she had my last name.

It's what I've always wanted, but I can't ask her with my life going the way it is.

I'm not even being honest with her right now, and that hurts worse than I ever thought it would.

There's a pain in my chest, and I rub hard at it, to make it go away.

"Are you okay?" Her eyebrows pinch together as she looks at me.

"I'm good, just a little heartburn."

I go back to watching her, when it hits me what she's doing. She's checking pockets before she sorts the clothing. She picks up the pair of jeans I was wearing the other day.

"What's this?"

"Montgomery…"

Before I can say anything else, she pulls the metal pill holder out.

It's supposed to be used for people to carry their prescription medication in case they need just one or two pills.

Instead, I've been using it to carry around the extras that I've been popping.

Opening it, she shakes it and the pills fall out onto her palm.

"RJ why aren't these in your prescription bottle? " She holds them up to me.

"I just carried them with me in case I missed the time to take it."

"That's bullshit," she accuses, her mouth flattened into a disappointed line . "You take it when you wake up. So it's not going to matter, and they aren't even in the appropriate bottle. My Dad used to carry his pills like this, when he was taking a ton of them."

"They're extra," I try to play it off.

"Extra? You shouldn't have extra."

I'm sweating, getting annoyed as she questions me. "Give me the fuckin' thing."

"No," she refuses. "If they're extra you won't care if I do this."

Montgomery turns to the sink in the room, tips the bottle, and pours them out before turning on the water.

"You fucking bitch! You don't know what you're doing," I yell.

Both of us are shocked at what I've just said, but that doesn't stop me from rushing over, turning the water off and trying to salvage the pills.

"RJ?" Her chin is quivering and tears are pooling in her eyes. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The panic is setting in now, full force. My hands are shaking as I try to grab what's left of the dissolved pills from the sink, but it's useless. They're gone, and so is any chance I had of getting through tonight without the crushing anxiety that's already starting to build in my chest.

"You don't understand," I say desperately, my voice cracking. "I need those."

"For what? Your anxiety? Or for something else?" Her voice is rising, and I can hear the hurt and confusion. "RJ, what's going on? These don't even look like what you were prescribed."

I can't look at her. I can't face the disappointment I know I'll see in her eyes. "It's not what you think. Those came from another pharmacy…"

"Then tell me what it is!" She's crying now, full tears streaming down her face. "Because from where I'm standing, this looks exactly like what I dealt with growing up. This looks exactly like my father."

The comparison hits me like a physical blow. I know about her dad, we all do. It's affected everyone within the orbit of Black Friday. We've lived with the pills and the lying and the broken promises. I know what it did to her family, what it did to her. And here I am, doing the exact same thing.

"I'm not your father," I snap, my own panic making me defensive and wanting to lash out. I know what he did to her, how much he hurt her, and it pisses me off that she's putting me in the same bucket as him. "Don't you dare compare me to that piece of shit."

"First of all, my Dad isn't a piece of shit.

I'm gonna overlook that and the bitch comment because you've obviously got some shit going on here.

Then what the hell is this?" She gestures wildly at the sink, at the evidence of what I've become.

"Because it sure as hell isn't the RJ I fell in love with.

You sure look like you have the same problems as him. "

"I don't have a problem!" The words come out louder than I intended, echoing in the small laundry room. "I'm managing my anxiety, and ADHD. The tour was stressful, and my doctor said?—"

"Stop lying to me!" she screams. "I lived with an addict for eighteen years, RJ. Under the same damn roof. I know what this looks like. I know what the lying sounds like. I know what the desperation in your eyes means when you look at those pills."

My chest is tight, and I feel like I can't breathe. The walls of the laundry room seem to be closing in. If I'm not careful I'm going to have a full-blown panic attack right here. "You don't know anything about what I've been through."

"Then tell me!" She's sobbing now, and it's breaking my heart, but I can't stop myself.

"Tell me what's so bad that you have to lie to me.

Tell me what's so terrible that you have to hide pills in your pockets like a teenager stealing from medicine cabinets.

I've always supported you, but I can't unless you tell me what the hell is going on. "

"The pressure, okay?" I explode. "The constant fucking pressure of everyone expecting me to be perfect, to have all the answers, to be a part of this band.

Do you know what it's like having thousands of people screaming your name and knowing that if you fuck up, if you have one bad show, it could all disappear? "

"So you thought pills were the answer? RJ you aren't the only person in that band. They're screaming EJ's name too. You're taking the pressure on yourself. It's an easy scapegoat to be okay with what you're doing."

I ignore the rest, but argue. "They help me get through it. They help me function."

"They help you hide," she counters. "Just like my dad. Just like every other addict who thinks they're managing their life when really they're destroying it."

I'm pacing now, running my hands through my hair. The room feels too small, too hot. "I'm not destroying anything. I'm successful. The band is successful. I'm providing for my future, for our future."

"What future?" She laughs bitterly, brushing at the tears under her eyes. "You think I want a future with someone who lies to me? Someone who calls me a bitch when I try to help?"

The guilt crashes over me, my stomach sinking as I remember saying that to her. "Montgomery, I'm sorry. I didn't mean?—"

"Yes, you did." Her voice is quieter now, but somehow that's worse than the screaming. "When people are desperate for their drug, they'll say anything. They'll hurt anyone. Even the people they claim to love."

"I do love you."

"No, you love the idea of me. You love having me here to play house with, to do your laundry and make you breakfast and pretend everything is normal.

But you don't love me enough to be honest with me.

You don't love me enough to respect me enough to realize I can't do this again with someone.

" She crosses her arms over her chest. "How could you ask me to do this again when I've already dealt with it, with my dad? "

She pushes past me, heading for the stairs. I follow her, my panic increasing with every step.

"Where are you going?"

"To pack my bag. I'm leaving."

"Montgomery, please." I grab her arm gently as we reach my bedroom. "Let's just talk about this. Let's figure it out together."

She whirls around, eyes blazing. "Figure what out? How to better hide your addiction? How to make sure I don't find your stash next time?"

"I'm not addicted!"

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes rake over my body. "Then why are you sweating? Why are your hands shaking? Why did you call me a fucking bitch over some pills that supposedly don't matter?"

I look down at my hands, and she's right. They are shaking. My whole body feels like it's vibrating with anxiety and need. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple." She starts throwing her clothes into her overnight bag. "You're using pills to cope with life instead of actually dealing with your problems. That's addiction, RJ. That's what destroyed my family."

"I'm not going to destroy our family."

"We don't have a family!" she yells. "We have a relationship built on lies and pretending and you thinking you can handle this on your own."

I sit heavily on the bed, watching her pack. The reality of what's happening is starting to sink in. She's leaving. She's actually leaving.

"Don't go," I whisper, tears falling silently down my cheeks. "Please don't go."

"I can't do this again," she says, and her voice breaks. "I can't watch someone I love slowly disappear into pills and lies. I can't be the person who enables it by staying and pretending it's not happening."

"I'll get help."

"You don't think you need help. You just told me you don't have a problem."

She's right, and we both know it. Even now, part of me is thinking about where I can get more pills, how I can replace what she just flushed down the sink. I like those so much better than the coke I have left over.

Montgomery pulls out her phone and dials a number. "Dad? Can you come pick me up? I'm at RJ's house."

The knife twists deeper. She's calling her father—the same man whose addiction she's been running from her whole life—to rescue her from mine.

"Montgomery, wait."

She hangs up and looks at me with tears in her eyes. "What?"

"What about those paper rings we've always promised each other?"

Her face crumples, and for a moment I think she might stay. But then she shakes her head.

"They're broken," she whispers. "And I'm not sure you're ever going to be able to fix it."

The words hit me harder than any physical blow ever could. I watch helplessly as she finishes packing, as she walks down my stairs, as she sits on my front porch to wait for her father.

I follow her outside, but she won't look at me. We sit in silence until her dad's car pulls into my driveway. He gets out, takes one look at both of us, and his face hardens with understanding.

"Come on, sweetheart," he says gently to Montgomery. His eyes lift to mine, but he doesn't say anything. There really isn't anything to say.

As she gets in the car, she looks back at me one more time. "Get help, RJ. Real help. Not for me, but for yourself."

Then they're driving away, and I'm standing alone in my driveway, watching the taillights disappear. The perfect day we shared feels like a lifetime ago.

I go back inside and immediately start searching through my things, looking for any pills I might have missed. But Montgomery was thorough, and my stash is gone.

The panic is setting in full force now, and I realize with stark clarity that she was right about everything. The shaking, the sweating, the desperate need—this is what addiction looks like.

But admitting it and doing something about it are two very different things.

I sink onto my couch and put my head in my hands, wondering how I went from the perfect morning to losing the love of my life in a single evening.

Those paper rings she mentioned are in a box upstairs—dozens of them that we made over the years, each one a promise for our future. She's right. They're broken now.

And I don't know if I'm strong enough to fix them.