Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Hey, how’re you feeling?”
I rub my face as I try to get my bearings. All I remember is waking up to Jayden freaking out on the phone with my dad. Once my dad arrived, he promised he had me—not that he needed to; I knew he did. He took me home right away, and since I’d left most of my meds at their house with the belief I wouldn’t need them, I took one of my as-needed pills and slept off most of the day.
“Jesus Christ, I passed out in front of Jayden Sinclair.”
Owen doesn’t snicker or tease me. He actually slips his hand into mine, holding it tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you stopped taking your meds?”
How did he find out? Did I tell my dad? I don’t remember. Shame floods my senses. I close my eyes to hide the tears. “Because I’m better.”
“You are, but you can’t go cold turkey like that, man. You know better.”
I do. “I didn’t want anything clouding my responsibilities.”
“Evan, they help manage the anxiety that eats at you.”
I know this. I do. And I don’t know how it happened, honestly. I missed them one day, then it turned into three, and then I didn’t fill my prescription because I had some left. I tried to get back on them, but then I ran out. I felt okay. I felt like I was handling things.
I rub the back of my neck with my hand and then let it fall beside me. “What are you doing here, Owen?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Um, making sure you’re good.”
“You could have just called.”
“Eh. You needed me.”
I do. Fuck, I do. I clench my eyes shut, squeezing his hand in mine. “I gotta learn to live without you.”
“Fuck that,” he says, almost as a laugh. “We’re twins, brothers. We don’t have to live without each other. But one thing is for sure—we can’t be lying to each other.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We learn, and we grow from it, right?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. I don’t know how many times his fiancée Angie told me that. “Right.”
“Good. You wanna take a shower? I’ll go make you something to eat.”
I nod and squeeze his hand once more before rolling off my bed. I feel his eyes on me, watching me, and I know he’s worried. It’s one thing to disappoint my parents, but feeling less than Owen is the worst. We’re a team, he and I. Neither is better than the other, but when this kind of shit happens, I know the truth. I may have gotten his smarts, but along with them, I took most of his anxiety. Probably some that Shelli and Posey left behind, too. Shit, probably some of my mom’s as well.
As the hot water hits my body, I relish it, and then I allow myself to unload. I hate crying, but the shower is the best place to do it. I know I’m crying, but I can’t feel the tears. To me, it’s almost as if I’m cleaning off the sadness, if that makes sense. Mom used to say, after a nasty sickness, we’d have to shower to wash away the germs and illness. I guess I carried that thinking into my mental health woes. My body shakes with my sobs, and the embarrassment not only of Jayden seeing me like this, but my brother having to fly in to comfort me, eats away at me. I haven’t cried like this since I got back home, but I’ve also been medicated and not overwhelmed by all the new changes in my life.
I’ve made some poor life choices lately.
Once I feel clean, I get out, drying off and then heading to my room to get dressed in some sweats and a tee. I dry my hair before throwing the towel over the door and heading to the kitchen. Thankfully, only my parents and Owen are in there. He’s made me a sandwich with chips as a layer beneath the cheese. Just how I like it. As I sit down, Mom smiles sweetly at me and then rubs my neck.
“Feeling better?”
I nod. “A little bit.”
“Good. You gave us quite a scare,” she admits, kissing my temple. “It’s okay to be medicated, Evan Michael. I am. Dad has to take meds for his arthritis in his knee. It’s okay.”
“Lord knows if I don’t, I can’t walk,” Dad admits, and Owen brings me a can of soda.
“And Angie is on all kinds of shit for her ADHD and her mild depression, and guess what, I still think she’s awesome,” my brother adds, and I nod. “And you’re super awesome.”
When Mom sets down my four pills, I swallow hard. She cups my neck once more, dropping her lips to my ear. “Taking these doesn’t make you less of a man, my sweet boy.”