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Surprise over the statement lowers my jaw.
“You agreed to belong to me and only me under the pretense that I would be there to belong to.” Another hard swallow is taken. “And I wasn’t.”
Speechlessness – a rarity for me – continues to rule my system.
“I breeched this contract, Miss Winters.” A small sniffle presents itself. “Therefore…if you choose to consider this relationship null and void, I will respect that.” Tears can’t be kept out of his tone. “I’ll fucking hate it…but I’ll respect it.” The trembling in his frame threatens to create one in my own. “You.”
In a voice that’s more air than anything else, I cautiously investigate, “And if I don’t?”
“Then I will prove you to every day why not dissolving this partnership was the second-best choice you ever made.”
“The first being the agreement to be together to begin with?”
“Yes.”
Not smirking doesn’t cross my mind.
“You deserve a better partnership, Brynley. One where you don’t have to feel guilty for choosing your career over mine at times. One where you don’t have to justify not wanting to put on your ‘Fiancée Face’ or play press puppet-”
“J.T.’s job.”
“-simply for the shareholders benefits. One where your significant other holds out his open arms for whatever bullshit you need him to after a long a day. One where…he will turn to you rather than a bottle for solace when his world is completely turned upside down without his permission.”
“And what exactly is to stop him from reaching for the company brand whenever the waters get a little too choppy or a shit storm hits our coastline?”
“His rather strict substance abuse regimen created by his physician and psychiatrist, backed by his best friend and honorary godfather.”
Intrigue cocks my head.
Inches me closer.
Inspires me to insist, “Go on.”
“I am on the other side of the physical detox,” Wes openly confesses. “It was uglier than the first time by vast portions. I was properly monitored around the clock and while I’m grateful you weren’t there to see the vomiting or the shaking or the hallucinations, you were the person I wanted there the most. And the only reason I didn’t reach for you then was because it would’ve been a selfish prick move to not be there for you when you needed me then expect you to be there for me when I wanted you.”
“Extremely,” I whisper out and close the gap slightly more. “But I still would’ve been.”
Because I love him.
Because in spite of all the bullshit he’s put me through for the past few weeks, I still care about him.
Give all the fucks.
Especially when it comes to his health.
His sobriety.
I know it was the alcohol putting the divide between us – a divide I will not stand for again – but that doesn’t mean I wanted him to suffer through trying to get out of its hold without me.
If I learned anything from my father’s gambling addiction, it’s that not having support always leads to a greater fall.
“For the next few weeks, I’m still on a heavily supervised diet – that Lucky is doing his best to be creative with – to ensure my system receives the right increase of good and the best decrease of bad. I’m allowed to begin running in a couple days. Lifting weights next week. I am no longer allowed any alcohol – not even sampling for work which J.T. understands as well as supports – and all alcohol currently on the estate premises is locked up in a single cellar to which Clark and Lauren possess the only key.”
The new information successfully gets me creeping closer.
And closer.
“Dr. Sawyer – my psychiatrist – is currently taking up residence in one of the guesthouses to aid in recovery counseling, coaching, and management. I currently see him three times a day to discuss my progress, my actions, and my personal self-villains.”
