Page 34 of Unholy Confessions (The Paper Rings Trilogy #1)

Being in his arms feels better than it ever has. God, I've missed him so much it physically hurt, like someone had carved out a piece of my chest and left me to bleed. "I love you," I whisper as I rub my cheek against his shoulder, breathing in the scent I've been dreaming about for weeks.

He smells different now. Clean, but different. Less like the stench of sweat that was permeating from him every time I used to see him. Instead he smells more like soap and fresh air and something I can't quite identify. Recovery, maybe. Hope.

"I love you, too. I've missed you so much I couldn't breathe sometimes.

" His voice is destroyed with emotion, rougher than I remember, like he's been crying or screaming or both.

His arms tighten around me like he's afraid I'll disappear if he doesn't hold tight enough.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again. I was so scared you'd realize you were better off without me. "

The words hit me like a physical blow because there were moments – dark, desperate moments in the middle of the night when the missing him felt like dying – when I wondered the same thing. When Hayden's voice echoed in my head, asking why I was waiting for someone who might never come back.

Truth be told, there were moments I wondered that too, moments when the pain was so overwhelming I considered just letting go.

But seeing him now, feeling him solid and real and alive in my arms, I know I could never have done it.

I could never have just walked away from this, from us, from what we have.

"We have to talk," I say softly, even though it kills me to pull away from him. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to just hold him and pretend the past five weeks never happened, pretend we can just pick up where we left off. "The way things ended with us..."

"I know." His arm trails down my arm, fingers trailing fire across my skin even through my sleeve, before his fingers close around mine. The minute he feels it, his whole body goes still. "You're wearing one?"

The white straw paper ring, worn soft from me twisting it nervously, sits on my fourth finger of my left hand where a real ring should be. Where I used to fantasize his ring would be someday, back when the future felt certain and safe.

"Yeah," I whisper, fresh tears spilling over as I look down at the pathetic little thing. "I wanted you to know how much you were missed. I've made them since the night you left, when I couldn't stop crying and I needed something, anything, that connected me to you. I haven't taken them off since."

He makes a sound like he's been punched, wrapping me up in his arms again and palming the back of my head with his hand.

"You were too, baby. God, you were missed every second of every day.

I wrote you letters I'll never send, practiced conversations we'll never have. But I know we have a lot to deal with."

Letters. The thought of him sitting somewhere, pouring his heart out onto paper for me, makes my chest tight with longing and pain. What did he say in those letters? Did he tell me he loved me? Did he explain why he had to disappear? Did he promise to come back?

"We do..." He leads me over to the porch swing his mom bought last summer, the one where we used to sit and talk for hours about everything and nothing before all this happened. Now it feels like sacred ground, this place where we shared so many quiet moments before everything went to hell.

We sit next to each other, close enough that our knees touch, and I can already feel the words building in my chest, the ones that are going to destroy us both.

What I'm about to do, I'm terrified I'm going to regret for the rest of my life, but judging by the devastation already growing in his dark eyes, he knows this is coming.

He looks different. Healthier, cleaner, more present than he's been in months.

His eyes are clear, focused in a way they haven't been since before everything started falling apart.

His hands aren't shaking. The constant tension in his shoulders is gone.

He looks like the RJ I fell in love with, the one who existed before the addiction took hold.

And that makes what I have to say so much harder.

"Montgomery..."

"Just let me get this out." I reach up and put my fingers over his mouth, and even that simple touch sends electricity through me, makes me want to forget everything and just kiss him until we're both breathless.

"I love you. God, RJ, I love you so much it scares me sometimes.

I love you so much I don't know how to exist without you. "

He nods against my fingers, swallowing roughly, his eyes already bright with tears that mirror my own.

The words feel like they're being ripped from my soul, each one tearing something vital inside me.

"But we haven't been good together in the past few months.

We've been drowning each other instead of saving each other.

I've been enabling you without meaning to, and you've been using me as an excuse to avoid dealing with your problems. We need to figure out what makes us happy, what makes us whole, before we can be whole together. "

The truth of it settles between us like a weight. For months before he left, we'd been caught in this toxic cycle – him using, both of us pretending everything was fine while our relationship crumbled around us.

RJ's eyes close, and when he opens them again, they're swimming with tears that threaten to spill over.

"You're right," he says, his voice cracking completely.

"That might even mean us being with other people.

" The words seem to physically hurt him to say, his whole body flinching like someone's hitting him.

"Jesus, Montgomery, it's killing me to even think about that.

The idea of you with someone else makes me want to tear the world apart, but we both know we can't keep destroying each other like we were. "

Hayden's face flashes through my mind, and the guilt hits me like a truck.

"There's something I need to tell you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"While you were gone... Hayden has been helping me get through it.

Taking me to dinner, letting me cry on his shoulder, being there when I was falling apart. "

RJ's jaw tightens, and I can see him trying to process this information without letting his jealousy consume him. "Okay," he says carefully.

"He told me he has feelings for me," I continue, the words feeling like poison on my tongue. "And I... I need to be honest. I've been leaning on him in ways that weren't fair to any of us. I never cheated on you, not physically, but emotionally..." I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

The pain that crosses RJ's face is devastating, but he doesn't lash out, doesn't accuse me of anything.

He just nods slowly, like he's been expecting this.

"I can't be angry about that," he whispers.

"I left you. I disappeared without a word and left you to deal with everything alone.

Of course you found someone to help you through it. "

"But I should have been stronger," I say, tears streaming down my face now. "I should have waited, should have?—"

"No," he interrupts, shaking his head. "Montgomery, you don't owe me anything. I forfeited the right to expect anything from you the day I chose drugs over you for the hundredth time. That night I called you a bitch? That was a turning point, and that was my fault."

The words hang between us, brutal in their honesty. Because that's what happened, isn't it? Every time he used, every time he lied, every time he chose getting high over being present with me, he was choosing his addiction over our relationship.

I'm sobbing now, ugly crying in a way that should embarrass me but doesn't because this is RJ and he's seen every part of me, including the ugly parts.

"I know, and it's killing me too. But maybe.

.. maybe if we're meant to be together, we need to choose each other from a place of strength, not desperation. "

"I can't be the reason you don't become who you're supposed to be," he whispers, reaching up to cup my face with hands that are steadier than they've been in months. "I've already stolen too much from you. Your peace, your happiness, your trust. I won't steal your future too."

"And I can't be the reason you don't get the help you need to stay clean," I whisper back, leaning into his touch despite myself. "We both know I've been your crutch sometimes instead of your support. I was so scared of losing you that I lost myself instead."

The admission hurts to say out loud, but it's true. I'd become so focused on saving him that I'd stopped living my own life. Isolated myself from everyone except him because I was convinced that if I just loved him hard enough, if I just tried hard enough, I could fix him.

But you can't love someone into recovery. I know that now.

He lets out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing the paper ring on my finger like it's made of the most precious metal.

"I learned something in treatment," he says quietly.

"I learned that I was using you as my emotional crutch, and that wasn't fair.

Every time I felt overwhelmed or scared or angry, I'd either turn to drugs or turn to you to fix it for me.

I never learned how to cope with my own emotions because I always had something or someone else to do it for me. "

The words cut deep because they're true. I'd thought I was being supportive, but maybe I was just enabling him in a different way.

"But RJ..." I lean forward and cup his face in my hands, memorizing every line, every shadow, every detail I've missed for five weeks. "Before we do this, I need you to know something."