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I watch Dr. Conrad disappear into the hall before glancing back at Ander. I feel for him because I’ve been where he is right now. “The nurse will bring in some meds, probably an edible or two, and she will most likely draw labs too. I forgot to ask you earlier, but it’s not important now. It’s standard for us to check for any possible diseases, you know HIV, Hep A, B, and C. etc.” She shrugs.
His expression falters, the embarrassment consuming his facial features. “Actually, I—uh—I was recently treated for Hep C.”
“Haven’t we all been,” I retort with a wink. “Not everyone is lucky enough to be able to be treated. Nonetheless, they’ll still draw blood to double check since you fell off the wagon and everything or else you wouldn’t be here, right?”
Ander raises an eyebrow, his mouth falling open as he attempts to respond, but he falls short. His body is weak and his mind is fucking tired. I know exactly how he feels from everything that I had experienced when I was in active addiction. He doesn’t need to say a single word, because I get it. He needs his rest and I need to let him get it.
I give him a small smile, nodding, silently letting him know that everything will be okay. The corners of his lips lift slightly, but it’s barely noticeable. He thanks me with the same silence as I slip out of his room, softly pulling the door shut behind me.
The next week is going to be fucking hell for him. Rock bottom seemed like an endless pit of misery but detox—that’s an entirely different story. It pushes your body past the limit, reaching points where death seems like it is the only answer.
He’s here though, so he must be determined to get help.
As much as it breaks my heart, I can’t focus on him. He will get through it, most people do, especially when they know that this is their only option. For now, I have my own beautiful bad boy that I have to worry about.
Killian let me go last night without a fight, but that was last night. That has no bearing over what is to come over the next few months with him. He still has some time left here at the facility and then he’ll be moved into the halfway house that is designated for the male patients. When he goes there, we won’t be in the same building at all.
I know what is going to come when we reach that point. Neither of us have brought it up yet and I don’t know if that’s a conversation either of us can have right now, not when things are already such a goddamn mess between us.
But that’s the beautiful thing about our love. Even though we’re destructive and it’s a disaster, there’s beauty in our destruction. It’s messy as fuck and it has never been easy.
And I have a feeling that things with Killian are only going to get harder.
EIGHTEEN
KILLIAN
The hot water pounds on my back as I lean against the wall in the shower. My eyes stay closed as it streams down my face, over my eyelids. It’s been a week since Ainsley was in my bed last and she’s been avoiding me since.
I don’t fucking understand why because the shit head who is moving into my room has been in detox for the past ten days. This afternoon, he will officially be moving in here. So, while he was in detox, Ainsley still could have come around, but she didn’t.
She’s been putting space between us and it’s fucking with my head. All it would take is for us to have a simple conversation, to communicate what the hell is going on. Neither of us do that. If there’s one thing that we’ve both clung to from our past, is our avoidance. And no one avoids shit quite like Ainsley Sinclair.
Just thinking about her has my cock hard, but I ignore it as I finish up showering. There’s a defeated feeling that hangs heavily on my shoulders and I honestly don’t even feel like jerking off. After having a taste of her again, it just doesn’t even come close to touching the feelings from her.
I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist as I grab another towel to dry off the top of my body. Chucking it onto the floor, I push open the bathroom door and the steam billows out through the doorway as I step into my room. I didn’t bother bringing my clothes into the bathroom, but when I step out into my space, I realize that I probably should have.
Because it’s not my fucking space anymore.
Ander’s hunched over his bed, pulling his clothes from his duffel bag as he tosses them onto the mattress. He doesn’t notice me at first as he gathers an arm full and walks over to the one dresser. An exasperated sigh, mixed with a grumble comes from me as I stride across the room.
He turns around as he reaches the dresser on his side of the room. “This is my dresser, right?” Ander asks.
I narrow my eyes at him before turning away and grabbing my clothes from my own dresser. I can feel his eyes on me, watching as I dig through my drawers. I think that he can probably figure it out himself, considering all of my shit is in this dresser.
Ander mumbles something under his breath, but I don’t catch it as he pulls open his own drawers and begins to load his clothes into them. Grabbing my shit in my hand, I walk back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me for good measure.
It’s immature, I know, but I never claimed to be the most mature person. My irritation typically gets the best of me and right now, Ander is the main source of that. Things are already weird with Ainsley and now this motherfucker is just another goddamn obstacle that is going to cause problems.
I take my time in the bathroom, drying off and getting dressed. The mirror is fogged up and I drag my palm across it, wiping away the moisture as I stare back at myself. Dragging a hand through my messy hair, I untangle some of my midnight locks and ruffle it, leaving it tousled with no tangles.
Grabbing my towel from the rack, I rub it over my head and drop it back onto the ground. Usually I try to be more organized, but fuck it. If I’m sharing my space with this fucker now, he’s going to deal with the disorganized side of me. The vindictive side that really wants him to request a room change.
Ainsley said that this was the last bed left in the facility, so even if they did grant his wishes, I’d be stuck with someone else.
As I walk back out into the room, I see him sitting by the desk, as he picks up the phone that is ringing. I know that Ainsley is still working, so she shouldn’t be calling right now, but I can’t contain the fucking irritation that grows into something stronger. Something that borders close to rage, but not enough for me to lose my fucking shit.
“I need to use the phone, so hurry the fuck up.”
