30. Eli

Eli

I'll Fall With Your Knife

A fter dropping off Helios at Phoenix’s parent’s house—which Nyxia was less than thrilled with due to the early hour—we piled into a deluxe Uber and headed to the airport. During the entire drive there, I felt the high peaks of Phoenix’s knuckles, branded his scent into my memory, and absorbed as much of his warmth as possible.

It’s going to be so cold without him—a sunless sky. When we got to the terminal drop-off, all their bags were removed from the van, and I started shaking.

I’m still shaking. In his arms. Breathing him in for way longer than is acceptable.

“We need to get going,” Jorge says gently.

“I know,” Phoenix grumbles, cinching his arms around my waist tighter. “Give me a minute.”

“It’s been like fifteen.”

“It’s alright,” I tell Phoenix, knowing I need to let him go.

He sighs heavily, kissing my neck right over my tattoo. I hear him sniffle in my ear, a click working in his throat as he swallows hard. We pull out of each other’s grasp, eyes locked. It lasts for about three seconds, and we’re sealed back together. Hands grabbing, touching, feeling. Why is this so fucking hard?

“Go,” I rasp, knowing they could miss their flight if they don’t get through security in time.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Go, baby. It’s okay.”

“Nope.”

“ Phoenix ,” Kelly barks.

“This is ridiculous. We are coming back, you know. I don’t plan on the plane crashing,” Michael blurts, and I hear a slap followed by an oomph.

“Kiss your boyfriend so we can go,” Jorge urges.

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

“Then that means goodbye. I’m not ready. I can still cancel this whole fucking thing.” His voice is muffled into my skin. God, he is stubborn.

“My ride will be here, and I need to be at the facility in three hours. Gotta let me go.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, doing as I asked and pulling back. He captures my lips in a searing, wet kiss. Slipping his tongue into my mouth, he seeks mine out, no doubt drawing attention to us because he’s making it filthy. But I don’t stop him.

Several throats clear. I groan against him and pull my lips free. “You call me as soon as you can,” he demands, lashes wet.

“I will.”

“Don’t make me wait. Don’t make me worry more than I already will.”

“I won’t.”

He nods, throat bobbing as he releases my torso with one hand to reach into his leather jacket. When I see what he removes from it, I choke back a sob. He slides his lucky socks into my hand. “To keep you grounded and so…you have a piece of me.”

“Fuck you two, man,” Jorge croaks and cries.

Again.

Phoenix lets a watery laugh free, then presses our foreheads together. He has to bend a bit to reach mine, but he makes it work. “I love you,” he whispers, just for me.

“I know,” I tell him, unsure if I should say it back. “I’m going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” The words are more for me than him, but he nods stiffly and kisses me three more times.

“You have the keys?”

I nod and show him the keys to his apartment. He’s letting me stay there…well, Kelly, too, when I get out. Just in case I’m done with the program before they get back. Tracy never wrote back to my texts, so I might have to prove I’m serious eventually.

I hug him one more time. Jorge sniffles loudly and throws his arms around us, damn near purring. “You guys. We gotta go.”

“Ruining the moment, Jorge,” Phoenix bites out.

“I’m sad too, okay?” he snips but backs up.

“Alright. I’m going to go.”

I blink up at Phoenix, my heart spasming.

Fuck. It’s happening. He’s going to leave, and I’m going to fucking rehab.

Rehab.

Where I have to talk to doctors and be around doctors. Alone. Just me. I gasp, my throat closing. Phoenix cups my face and kisses my eyes. “You got this, sweetheart. You can do it.”

“I know…I…”

“Wear the socks. They help.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it, I’m going. I’ll be a one-man show,” Michael yells, his suitcase wheels rolling over the concrete as he goes inside.

“I’ll text you every day so that when you can use your phone, you’ll know everything I’m up to.” Phoenix smiles down at me.

I nod. I can’t fucking breathe. My fingers are stiff over his hips, refusing to move. But I need to. This is what I have to do if I want to keep him. Hell, if I want to survive long enough to prove I can to him.

Closing my eyes and pressing a kiss to his chest, I suck back all the noise in my head and feel him once more. His steady breaths, his warmth, his presence. The rest of his band is leaving him, all but Jorge, who watches us with hearts in his eyes.

My phone dings in my pocket, alerting me that my ride is approaching. “Bye, Phoenix,” I rasp and back away from him.

Jorge quickly latches onto his best friend’s arm, slowly inching him away from me. “Good luck, man! You got this. I believe in you.”

I want to acknowledge Jorge, but my eyes are only for Phoenix. He’s crying—weeping for me. “Tell me again,” I call out.

“I love you!”

A nasty, hideous sob crawls up my throat, but I swallow, willing myself to hold it together until he gets inside. He’s walking backward, Jorge tugging him and their suitcases along. “I fucking love you, Elijah!”

They slip through the sliding glass doors, and I watch him disappear behind them. A car horn beeps behind me, startling me so badly that I jump. “Are you Eli?” the driver asks.

I nod, grab my suitcase off the floor, and twist back to the terminal doors again. He’s staring right at me in the check-in line. I wave, he waves, and before I start bawling, I swiftly turn around and get in the car.

T hree hours later, I arrived at the facility.

It looks… okay .

I had a good, long cry at Phoenix’s place with my face buried in his pillow until I had no choice but to rip myself up and leave. And now that I’m here, I want to run. Run with my fucking hair on fire, tail tucked between my legs.

I glance down at my shoes, the slip-on Vans revealing half a pizza slice, and steel myself. I didn’t know what I could or couldn’t bring, so I have everything with me. I also stole Phoenix’s leather jacket out of his closet, even though I doubt I can wear it.

I need all the motivation I can get right now.

Eyeballing the neatly trimmed shrubs lining the entrance, I swallow hard. I never thought I’d be doing this in a million years. Fucking rehab. A huge part of my brain wants to deny I need to be here. Like. I’m not a drug addict. Not really. I’ve always been able to control it. But even as I think that, my fingers itch to pull out my phone and get a hold of a dealer I know is not even twenty minutes away.

Maybe I could lie?

Just go radio silent for a few weeks and then tell Phoenix I did it. He wouldn’t know the difference. No one would. I’d know. Even considering it, I feel immense guilt. No. He’s counting on me. I’m counting on me. If there’s any chance this will help…that it’ll stop the voices, the screams, and grunts. I have to do this.

Yet my feet stay right where they are. My palms are slicked with sweat as I hold my suitcase handle tightly.

“You okay?” I hear from behind me.

“Yup. Perfect,” I grind out, eyes narrowing on the sign above the door.

“Cold feet?”

I turn to face the voice and see a sweet looking woman in scrubs holding a Starbucks. “No,” I all but growl, stomach knotting.

“Just showing up is a huge step.” She smiles.

Fuck this bitch. I want to leave. I want to crawl into a hole and die. “Sure.”

“I’m Brenda.” Her hand outstretches to mine. “I’m a nurse here.”

“Alright.”

She chuckles. “What’s your name?”

I hesitate—the urge to bolt rising higher and higher. Eventually, with her increasingly bright smile and expectant stare on me, I cave. “Eli–er–Elijah.”

“Madden?”

“Yes?” I say suspiciously.

“I saw the intake form last night. If you’d like, I can walk in with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to. Kindness never hurt anyone.” She beams before taking a sip of her drink.

I glance back at the door, chewing my lip raw. “Is it…bad…in there?”

“Define bad.”

“You know…like straight jackets ‘n shit.”

She chuckles. “No. Come on. Let me show you.”

I watch her walk ahead of me, and then she beckons me with an outstretched hand. Swallowing hard, my right foot takes a single step. Then, the left follows. I swear this lady must be a witch or something because she’s luring me in with her stupidly friendly smile. I briefly wonder if she’s related to Jorge. Shaking the thought away, I trail behind her and go inside the building.

“Let me clock in, and then we’ll get you started on your path of healing, Elijah.”

Fuck.

“Okay.”