Page 48 of The Intimacy of Finding You

So I grabbed a duffel bag the love of my life wouldn’t miss and started packing my stuff into it while he slept in our bed just a few feet away from me. I stayed as quiet as possible, opening the drawer slowly. Our shirts were neatly folded side-by-side, just as we’d slept together every night.

I cleared the first drawer and moved on to the next, going one by one until I’d cleaned out the very bottom. When I rose from the floor, a precious moment stared me right in the face. Sitting on top of our dresser was a picture of us at Crew and Price’s wedding, hand in hand, both in tuxedos with big smiles on our faces.

We’d talked about that photo being replaced with the one of us exchanging vows. Callum was going to take my last name. We’d had it all planned out down to the type of cake we’d have. A three-layer marble cake with red fondant covering it just because. Every wedding we’d ever seen had traditional white cakes with white fondant and white accessories on top. We wanted ours to stand out. We wanted ours to be memorable.

I’d even thought about what I’d say during our vows. I had them written down in the notes app on my phone and everything.

I’d gotten too comfortable. I had to leave. I didn’t even know where I was going, but I had to.

While Callum had been trying to comfort me without even knowing what was wrong, like the good boyfriend he was, I’d been planning this like a fucking asshole.

After packing the final few things I’d needed, I went back to our bedroom—now his bedroom—and stood in the doorway. Callum looked so peaceful. Like an angel, undeserving of the pain I was about to throw him into, but I knew it was better than enduring what I was going to bring. Misfortune followed me, and it’d never stop.

Quietly, I walked over until I was standing right beside him. His mouth was slightly open, and I could hear his soft breaths as his chest rose and fell. I was always mesmerized by how soundly he seemed to sleep every night. I was almost envious.

Would he still be able to sleep once he realized I was gone? I hoped so. Callum deserved all the things I couldn’t give him.

Stability. Safety. Certainty. A happy, long life of nothing but smiles.

Leaning down, I gently pressed a kiss to his forehead. I held back my tears for long enough to whisper against his skin. “I love you, Callum. I’m sorry.”

I walked to the front of the apartment, stopping just long enough to pull the apartment keys off my key ring and place them right next to his. This was my goodbye. This was my final moment here.

There wasn’t enough time to linger or to explain. I opened the front door for the last time and let it close behind me. He had a fake potted plant—the same one his Papa had—that held a fake key in the hidden compartment. I opened it, locked the door, put it back, and headed to my car.

I ended the cycle for Callum before he could get sucked into it. I left the only people who had truly, undeniably loved and accepted me for who I was. I left my little sanctuary of happiness behind so I could guarantee his.

There just wasn’t enough time for us.

chapter twenty-four

Present Day

The entire world looked entirely different after going through hell and back for seven days. I’d officially been sober for ninety-six hours—my longest streak since I’d started drinking regularly.

I hadn’t even realized how addicted I was. Logically, I knew I was dependent on it, but I didn’t realize just how much pain I was going to go through just by trying to quit. Callum wasn’t joking when he said I’d need to be in a hospital. The first three days were a total haze. All I’d done was throw up, curl up into a fetal position, and soak the bed with sweat as I shook violently and uncontrollably, all while begging for someone to give me alcohol to make the splitting headache stop.

At one point, my blood pressure had gotten so high, I had a nurse with me in case I had a stroke or seizure. I couldn’t sleep like normal, instead passing out from the pain and exhaustion whenever my body had decided it was too much.

On the fourth day, I woke up, and despite my body feeling sore and exhausted, I finally felt relief. I knew it was finally over. I was past the hardest part, the nurse—Hayden—had said. He’d told me he was proud of me.

Proud. Like I hadn’t done this to myself. He was just plain proud.

It was an odd feeling.

Now, after basically sleeping for four days, I was sent off into the real world with a lot of paperwork, brochures, and a lot more decisions to make. I was just glad that Callum wasn’t there to see me like that. Instead, I was on my way to his house as a newly sober man, finally confident and ready to start over again.

I didn’t know how I was going to proceed with my sobriety. An addictions counselor named Anna had pushed for a full thirty-day rehab facility, but I’d declined. I didn’t want that. No matter how nice a place it’d be, I didn’t want to feel trapped or disconnected. If I couldn’t stay sober while facing the difficulties in life, how was I ever going to?

I wanted to drink still. I didn’t know how long it’d take for me not to. It was always lurking there, just beneath my lungs, waiting for the perfect moment to reach up through my throat and snag a crisp, cold bottle of vodka. But I had a reason not to.

So I kept walking. Away from the bar. Away from the liquor stores. Away from my buddies, who I knew would trade something with me for a bottle.

I walked the entire way to Callum’s house with the papers folded and stored in my jacket pocket, burning a bigger hole with every second. There was an overwhelming amount of information and things to consider, but I didn’t need them. I needed him. To see him, care for him, and love him the way he’d always deserved to be loved.

I was still a little tattered and nearing the edge of breaking, but I had enough determination to face withdrawal. I was sure I could face the rest quite easily.

I stared up the porch stairs, watching the front door like it’d bite me if I got too close. Crew’s car was still parked on the street, too. My heart started to hammer in my chest, the anxiety I was so used to numbing down suddenly ten times more intense.