Page 165 of Toxic Kiss

“Why not? If I don’t joke about it, then I’ll either curl up and cry or go postal. Neither is helpful.”

As she stretches out her legs, my eyes roam over her. The tattered jeans, black shit kicker boots, and my hoodie may look simple to anyone else, but to me, it’s fucking hot. A shirt and no underwear, so I can fuck her whenever I want, is also an acceptable outfit.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she mutters.

“Why?”

“Because…I don’t know how to deal with this…us…you acting like you have feelings for me. Fuck, Cy. My head is like a carnival, and right now we’re in the house of mirrors. I’m trying to gauge what is real and fake. Is this the real me? Is this the real you? What the hell do we even look like in this new reality?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. It sounds like an Eminem song playing on repeat to me.”

“Haven, I’m not just saying this to reel you in and hurt you again. I’ll take out any competition, I mean it. You’re mine. There is no point in fighting me.”

“You do know that sounds stalkerish and murdery, right?”

“I’m fucking crazy about you, and technically, I am a stalker. I followed your ass all over the place, whether you saw me or not.”

“So why didn’t you follow me to New York?”

And just like that, she performs another perfect mic drop. We sit in silence, staring at one another.

“I almost did. When I finished my shower and walked back to my room, you were gone. I figured you went to do the same. After a while, I went looking for you and saw my photo in the garbage. That was when I realized you left and weren’t coming back. I wasn’t in a good headspace. Six months later, I landed my ass in rehab for the first time.”

Her face sobers.

“So, your mother was right? It was sort of my fault.”

I shake my head.

“No. Don’t fucking do that. Don’t blame yourself for my bullshit. I was already dancing my happy ass down the road of recklessness, depression, and abusing myself. You leaving just ripped the guardrails off. Truth is, I was always going to crash and burn.

“I didn’t hear about the first rehab stay.”

“No one did. Your father paid big bucks to keep it quiet and out of the media. Everyone knows about the stay with Dr. Avery because by then the band was too famous to hide it.”

“Well, you were also so high that you smashed your guitar on stage, told everyone to fuck off, and that you hated them, before stomping away in the middle of the concert. That kind of screams something is wrong,” Haven says, and of course, my dark little heart is happy that she was still following me despite it all.

“Yeah…and there was that.”

“So, have you really stayed clean since?”

I glance at her, and it feels as if there is suddenly a massive weight on my chest.

“You don’t believe me either?”

“I didn’t say that. But right now, while there is no death scare or doctors, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. All of it, even if it’s not pretty. Have you been clean for the last two years?”

My throat closes, and it feels like acid is being poured down my gullet as the silence stretches between us. All the while, my heart is running a marathon in my chest.

“I’ve been clean but not sober,” I painfully admit, and her brows pull together. “I landed in rehab because of cocaine. That caused the outbursts, fights, and some other unsavory things. I haven’t touched it since I got out. Seven-hundred and ninety-six days…I count every single one. But I’m supposed to stay away from everything. I don’t. I still drink, smoke weed, and have the odd cigarette. So, the answer is yes, and no.”

Haven doesn’t ask me anything else. My shoulders and back relax, but my pulse is still elevated. She is the only one who makes me feel like this. Like I’m still fucking up. She doesn’t accuse, doesn’t yell, but I’ve always sought her approval. I crave it as much as I do her.

“I want to get clean. All the way, I want to do it right.”

“Then you will,” she says, and we lapse into another silence.

Three simple words, and yet they hold so much power. Haven doesn’t tell me I need to, doesn’t offer to fix me, and yet, the confidence in that short sentence speaks loudly about her faith in me.

Out of nowhere, she laughs softly, her eyes are unfocused as if she sees something only she can. Her lips turn up.