Page 116 of Let’s Be Real

Time stretched and slipped. I didn’t know how long it took Adrian to get up to Nate’s. It felt like an eternity and a blink. But I’d always remember the sound of his anguish when he ran into the bathroom and found Nate curled into himself.

Adrian and I got Nate off the floor and into bed. Nate tried to help. God, did he try. But every movement he made cost him more than he had to give.

Adrian had to make Nate drink water. He held the glass to his brother’s lips, tipping it until water dribbled down his chin.

Any other time, he would have hated that. He was always so put together, quietly meticulous and tidy. Tonight, he didn’t notice or care.

Then Adrian went into the hall to call Roman, and I climbed into bed with Nate. His exhausted body folded into mine, trembling as he buried his face in my neck. His arms barely made it to my shoulders, so I held him doubly hard to make up for it.

I listened to Adrian’s murmurs as he explained the situation to Roman. Words like depression, dehydration, lethargic, and catatonic were little knives, sinking deep. I’d spent weeks coming up with alternative explanations. Stress, grief, too much work, a rough patch. Anything but this.

I couldn’t be in denial any longer. The love of my life was struggling, and I had to help him. My Nate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Shhh.” I stroked my fingers up and down his back, biting the inside of my cheek so I didn’t cry. This wasn’t the time. “You’re okay, Natey. I love you so much. You’re going to be okay.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” he said again and again.

I hated this. Nate didn’t deserve to suffer this way. Something was pressing down on him, and I didn’t know how to help him carry it. He could have asked, and I would have figured it out.

But maybe he’d asked in the only way he could, and I’d missed it.

I’d missed it.

Oh, this man. I loved him. I needed him to be okay. We’d deal with whatever we needed to—he just had to keep taking these beautiful, warm, life-giving breaths. Even if it was hard, we’d do it.

“No matter what, Nate, I’m not going anywhere. This won’t scare me away,” I promised. “You’re stuck with me.”

He whimpered against my neck. “I think I need help.”

“I know. We’re going to get you the help you need.”

Adrian stood in the doorway, watching us, his phone hanging listlessly by his side. I’d known him forever, and I’d never seen him look so bereft.

Angry? Sure, daily. Frustrated? Often, and at me. This utter helplessness? Never.

Finally, he said, “Roman’s on it. He knows what to do.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. “Okay, that’s good.”

Adrian came closer, stopping at the side of the bed behind Nate. He bent down, patting Nate’s shoulder.

“We’re going to get you right. Rome’s finding a place you can go. He’ll be here really soon,” he said as gently as I’d ever heard him speak. When his eyes met mine, I saw my own torment reflected back. This was tearing him to pieces, the same way it was me.

I held out my hand. “Lie down with him. He needs you too.”

For a moment, Adrian looked lost. He glanced around the room, at his brother, then me. I thought he was going to deny my request, but after giving his face a hard scrub, he stretched out behind Nate and threw his arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” Adrian rasped fiercely. “You’re not going anywhere.”

That was how Roman found us. Three in a pile, holding on to Nate for dear life. Like if one of us loosened our grip, we might lose him, and we weren’t willing to find out if that was true.

Roman got Nate into a facility that night. The four of us drove there together, but Adrian and I waited in the reception area while Nate and Roman completed his intake evaluation with a psychiatrist.

Adrian held my hand, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Maybe when we were kids. Then again, maybe never.

We sat shoulder to shoulder, neither of us speaking or moving. I stared at a painting of a lighthouse on the opposite wall, wondering if the decorators had thought they were calming.