Still Into You (17 page)

“An old friend,” was all she said. At least she didn’t deny it. Though he wished she’d share the name of the man. But at least she was talking.

“When did you start seeing this old friend?”

Mia turned her head and stared at some point out her window. “A couple weeks ago.”

He wanted to ask how she could go so quickly from Ethan to this new guy. That was not like her. But he didn’t. The silence between them was enough to break her.

“I know what you’re thinking and I do
not
want to talk about him.”

“Him” being Ethan, that he knew.

“Does this new guy know you’re using him to forget Ethan?”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Oh, really?”

She quirked an eyebrow in answer.
Ha!
That’s exactly what it was. Now things were making sense.

“Have you talked to him?”

“A few weeks ago,” she answered begrudgingly. The words sounded like they were pulled from her. Luke knew then how much she really didn’t want to talk about this. But he wouldn’t be the bestest best friend if he didn’t push.

“And?”

“Luke. Please.”

“Why don’t you want to talk about this?”

“Not talking about it and not thinking about it are the only ways I’m holding it all together right now.”

“Why did you call it off?” he asked. She was at a breaking point and he decided to push some more, hoping she’d tell him what was bringing her down.

Mia furiously wiped at the tears falling from her eyes. He hated seeing her in pain. He wanted to help but he didn’t know what to do because she hadn’t told him a damn thing about what was wrong. God, she needed to tell him. He needed to know.

With her eyes focused on her lap, she spoke. “I am in a bad place, Luke, and I’m trying to fix it.”

He controlled the urge to put his hand to his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to cry in a long, long time, but sitting here with her right now, the urge to let the tears fall was overwhelming. What kind of bad place was she in? How the hell did she get there? What the hell was going on?

“Okay,” he began slowly, “That’s good you’re trying to fix it, but why leave Ethan? He loves you and wants to help. He’s miserable without you.”

“He can’t help! I need to do this. Me.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you two aren’t together.”
And why you’re with another man,
he left unsaid.

“I feel safe with Ethan.”

“That’s a good thing . . .” Though it worried him that if she felt safe with Ethan, did she not feel safe with this new guy?

“God, it is! But I can’t pretend with him. I can’t pretend anymore. It’s there,” she said, grabbing at her head and sobbing. The sheet slipped to her lap, but he didn’t see her nakedness. He only saw his broken friend.

“What’s there, Mia?” he asked, pulling her into the comfort of his arms, doing his best to soothe her. He had never seen her like this before, so broken, so sad.

“Things from when I was younger.”

“What things, sweets? You know you can talk to me. Remember, best friends talk about everything?”

He felt her struggle, her breathing became shallow, the grip on his shirt tightened. Then she began to tremble. What the hell happened in her past that could cause this kind of reaction?

“I can’t,” she croaked. At that moment he didn’t care about their promise as best friends. He just hoped that Mia had talked to someone.

“Have you told Ethan?”

“No. I’ve told no one.”

Mia

May 2008

Sitting on the hard surface of her rooftop terrace, Mia regarded the emptiness of the space around her. No furniture occupied the space. The only inhabitants were the empty alcohol bottles on the floor. It was bleak. Just like her life.

She rested her cheek on her raised knees and let the tears flow. After Luke’s unexpected visit a month ago, she had pushed what he said into a hidden corner of her mind. She didn’t want to face it. She didn’t want to deal with the pain. But God, there was so much of it.

Every single day.

Each mistake she made, and there were many, each event that had ever gone wrong in her life. Her mother leaving. Her father becoming a shell of himself, essentially leaving her too. And then there was Ethan.

Ethan.

She missed his love, his strength. God, she just missed him.

The tears quickly turned to sobs. Nothing she did was taking away the pain. Having Tom with her wasn’t helping anymore. That hurt too. She knew deep down that she would hurt him. She didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that, but she didn’t know how to stop it.

The thing was, Tom loved her.

Mia loved him too. How could she not? He was a beautiful man, inside and out. She cared for Tom deeply. Always had and always would.

But this love with Tom was nothing like what she had with Ethan. She couldn’t define the difference. It was just more. Ethan was just her heart and he loved her like she was his.

That comparison had her kicking the nearest bottle in frustration. How much pain was he in because of all of this? Because of her?

“God!” she wailed from the top of her lungs, her whole body aching with the overwhelming weight of her pain. She needed it gone. Now.

None of her usual remedies had worked. She needed more than Tom, more than the alcohol.

Mia pushed herself off the floor, resting against the wall. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it, and scrolled through her contacts until she came to Marc’s name.

He was the first friend she’d made after she’d moved here, the one who’d introduced her to her bandmates and Tom. Over the years, she and Marc had taken a lot of drugs together. She had a habit of calling him when she needed to forget. When she’d been going through the on again/off again relationship with Luke, Marc was the one she’d called to take away the pain and he’d always done a fantastic job. She desperately needed that now.

She pressed his name and placed the call. Her head fell back against the wall as she listened to the phone ring. After the second ring, she heard the click as he answered.

“Hi. It’s Mia,” she said before giving Marc a chance to speak.

His laughing voice came over the line. “I know who it is.”

“I just . . .”

“Were unsure because we haven’t talked in awhile?”

“Something like that,” she agreed. How did she let her friendships get away from her like this? First Tom, now Marc.

“How’ve you been?”

She scratched her head and sighed. “I’ve been better,” she admitted.

“Yeah, I heard that. Your boys are worried about you.”

Mia scrunched up her face. She thought she’d been careful not to let it show. Obviously not if they were discussing this with Marc.

“Yeah, I haven’t been in this place in a long time, and it’s so much worse than it’s ever been. I need your help.”

“Mia . . .”

“It’s there, Marc, and I can’t get rid of it. I need it gone,” she paused, exhaling loudly, battling what seemed her ever-present tears. “Can you come over? Please?”

His answer was immediate. “Yeah, I can. Lizzie’s with Tom tonight.”

This she knew. That’s why she was alone tonight. Lizzie, Tom’s best friend and Marc’s girlfriend, and Tom tried to have dinner together every other week. He’d canceled the last one to be with Mia. He had wanted to make sure he didn’t miss two in a row. She played the supportive lover, but she had really wished Tom had stayed with her tonight instead.

“What do you want?”

Time for her drug order.

“I don’t want to know what you give me. I trust you.”

“Mia, are you sure?”

“Marc, we’ve done this before. I just need it again. I need you to take away the pain. I
need
this favor.”

“This is not a favor.”

No. Did he not want to do this for her now? She shook her head back and forth. “I’ll go elsewhere . . .”

“No. You won’t. Don’t you dare go to someone else! You hear me, Mia?”

She stayed silent in this standoff.

“Mia,” he said, drawing out her name in a plea. When she didn’t answer, he blew out his breath. “Okay. I’ll be there in about an hour. Do not leave! I’ll take care of you. Please just don’t leave. Promise me.”

She sighed at how worried he sounded and her words of promise were quickly out of her mouth. “I won’t leave. I . . . um . . . thanks, Marc. I owe you.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“Thank you,” she answered quietly and hung up. She was blessed by this friend. Yes, it was fucked up, but Marc—he knew how to hide it, mask it. He did it often for himself. And for her. They were friends for a reason. Kindred spirits tied together by their pain.

Mia pushed herself from the wall and attempted to go downstairs to wait for Marc. She made it down the first flight fine, but when turning to go down the next flight, her head felt like it might float off her head. Pausing, she put her hand on the railing and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

With a death grip on the railing, she slowly made her way down the rest of the stairs. She opened the door and stood in the pass through between the sun room and family room. Mia saw her destination in her mind—the sofa. She took a few steps, and then her legs gave out and she fell to the floor in a heap. She simply didn’t have it in her to make it the rest of the way and wasn’t even going to attempt to get up now. She’d just wait until Marc arrived.

She closed her eyes for a bit to rest and when she next opened them, it was due to the door slamming shut. Her eyes followed Marc as he walked into her home, down the hallway, pausing in the kitchen. He regarded her lying in the middle of the floor and frowned. That was his only reaction. He didn’t make a big deal of her on the floor. He lay right next to her, his eyes locked on hers.

“Mia, sweetie, have you taken anything?”

She tried to answer but her dry mouth prevented that. She swallowed a couple times, moistening her mouth, then spoke. “No.”

“You smell like a liquor store,” he remarked as he got a little closer.

“Maybe because I drank one,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, my dear, why are you lying in the middle of the floor?”

“I misjudged where the couch was,” she deadpanned.

Mia tried to focus on his face to see his reaction, but her vision kept blurring out on her. His face was fuzzy, but she thought she saw him smile.

“Yeah, you did. You got about another fifteen feet to go.”

She tried to look over at the couch but her eyes rolled back into her head. She shut them and took a deep breath to calm the uproar of her stomach.

“Really?” she eventually asked.

“Yeah.”

She kept her eyes closed to fight the tide of nausea that was in full force.

“Mia? Want to get up?”

“Yes and no,” she said before swallowing another wave of burning bile. Marc rustled around and then he was by her side again.

“I’ll get you up. Just don’t fight me, okay?” he said, his words quiet against her ear. She nodded and felt his hands grip her under her arms. He pulled her a little too quickly to a standing position and her world tilted, turning her stomach over. She wobbled on her unsteady feet.

Her head spun as she tried to locate the bathroom. She gripped Marc’s arm to steady herself. He must have seen her face because he had them moving fast. She held on as he opened the door, then she took over.

Knocking her knees against the marble floor, Mia knelt over the toilet and the upheaval of her stomach began. She was thankful for his hand on her back and she focused on that instead of the uproar happening in her body.

“Ugh,” she moaned after another unpleasant gastric upheaval. She hugged the toilet, using it to keep herself from falling over and face-planting.

“Think you can make it to your bedroom?”

She shook her head. That was a mistake. Even though she stopped shaking her head, it still felt like it was moving. She gripped the toilet and faced the bowl, throwing up yet again. Afterwards, she placed her head on the rim and then felt her body give out, sliding down until she hit the floor and passed out.

Her eyes slowly opened. With each blink, Mia opened them more and more, her eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room. Fuck. She felt like absolute crap. Her stomach recoiled at the thought of actually getting up and moving about. Looking around, she knew she was in her bedroom. How she got there she had no clue. She didn’t remember getting to bed, but did remember calling Marc and him lying with her on the family room floor. But that was the extent of it.