CHAPTER 37
jackson
T he pizza sat cold on the stove while I scowled at the clock. West had been in the shower a long fucking time for a guy who was just going to shower quickly before dinner. Yeah, I’d fucked up dinner but at least I tried to make it up to him. He didn’t have to hide in the bathroom for damn near an hour to avoid me.
Fuck that.
I stormed down the hall and stopped outside the bathroom door. The light was on as was the shower, but I didn’t hear a goddamn thing otherwise. No moving or anything. It didn’t sit right with me. Why I tried the doorknob was beyond me. It was an invasion of his privacy, but my gut was also telling me that something was wrong.
“West?” I said again as I opened the door. Anything else I planned to say was lost when I saw West sitting on the floor, fully clothed and unshowered. His head was buried in his hands while ragged breaths shook his entire body.
Fuck.
“West, what happened? ”
He let out a pathetic sound, visibly shrinking into himself.
I reached beyond him to turn off the water before cramming in the small space by the cabinet. I did my best not to touch him, which was fucking hard. There wasn’t enough room.
“How can I help?” I asked, though I didn’t expect an answer. He let out another quiet and painful sound. I didn’t know what to do—how to help him—so I just sat there. His panicked, uneven breathing filled the quiet. I felt each one in the pit of my stomach.
My brain ran rampant as I watched him. Was this what panic attacks were like? Did they get worse? Did he get them often? What did it feel like because it sure as hell didn’t look good? I knew panic attacks were a thing, but I’d never seen someone go through one. This was fucking awful. My heart ached for him as I sat there uselessly.
“The walls were yellow,” West rasped, his voice barely audible. “In the… when they…”
Oh.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath, glancing up at the walls. I reached up and shut off the light, letting the darkness blanket us. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it’d help a little. At least he wouldn’t have to see the yellow.
My mom loved the color yellow. She said it was a happy color, and so she went overboard when decorating the house. The bedrooms had all been yellow, and every other room had been covered in yellow accents—pillows, paintings, dumb knick-knacks. When she gave me the house, I’d gotten rid of most shit and repainted most of the rooms. With my lack of guests, I hadn’t bothered touching the guest room and bathroom.
I fucking regretted it.
West needed out of there. Sitting on the floor immersed in it wouldn’t do him any good.
“Come on,” I whispered, holding out a hand to him as I stood. I wouldn’t touch him if he didn’t want me to, but I also had a strong feeling he wouldn’t be able to stand enough on his own. The least I could do was get him up.
To my surprise, he accepted the help. I could feel the tremble in his hand as I pulled him to his feet. He swayed, and I resisted the urge to grab hold of him. It probably would’ve made everything worse. I kept my hold on his hand until he was ready to let go .
Except, instead of doing just that, his hand tightened around mine. Desperately tight . Like I was his lifeline. If he needed that, there was no way in hell I was letting go.
Taking my time, I led him out of the bathroom and through the house. I kept silent, focusing on his rampant breathing behind me as we went up the stairs. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about his bathroom, but I could set him up in mine.
I left him sitting on the toilet, gently removing his hand from mine—though, it killed me a little to do so. He was letting me help him. Comfort him. Be there for him. Granted, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, but I wanted to be that person.
I turned on the lights, picking the lowest setting possible to keep it dim for him. I had to imagine lights that were too bright would be too much. Maybe? Who knew? I was winging it.
“There’s a built-in bench,” I rambled pointlessly, needing to fill the silence with something as I started the shower. “I’ve hurt myself a few too many fucking times to not have one. Use whatever you need. There’s…”
There was no yellow. Everything was blues and browns. That part I didn’t add. It didn’t feel right.
“If you need anything, I’ll be right downstairs,” I said as I started for the door.
“I’m sorry,” West let out so softly I almost missed it. I paused to look at him, but he didn’t make eye contact. His gaze was glued to the floor in front of him. I would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking just so I could fix it—make him feel better.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I assured him and shut the door.
“Answer the damn phone, Mick,” I snapped as I rushed down the stairs two at a time. The phone rang several times, each one pissing me off further. The one fucking time I needed him to answer. Right before it sent me to voicemail, he answered. “Jesus fuck, it took you long enough.”
“ My world don’t revolve around you, boy, ” Mickey retorted. “ I— ”
“Yeah, yeah,” I dismissed him. I didn’t have time for any back and forth with him. “I need you to run everything tomorrow.”
“ Any particular reason? ” he asked.
I stopped in West’s room, staring at the room. The rolled-up bedding in the corner suddenly made a lot of sense. And I would’ve bet everything I had that West hadn’t slept in here. The amount of yellow was glaring.
It needed to go.
“None that you need to worry about,” I said. “I just need you to take care of everything.”
“ Okay. ”
“And do me a favor? Call Peter and tell him I need him to meet me at my house instead of the stables. He’s working with me tomorrow.” I couldn’t do everything on my own. I needed help, but I also needed someone who would understand. Peter was all I had.
“ You got it, boss, ” Mickey replied.
“Thanks, Mick.” The words were barely out of my mouth before I hung up. I had too much shit to do.
I took down the sunflower paintings and stashed them in the basement. I’d donate them later. Mom sure as hell wasn’t missing them. I threw the sheets in the laundry and put on the spare white ones—no yellow flowers. The pillows were tossed in the trash outside because I had no need for them anyway.
There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about the bathroom besides close it up. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now. It was the best I could do on short notice.
But by the time I got back upstairs to check on West, the shower was off and he was passed out in my bed with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He had to be fucking exhausted. I moved quietly, covering him with a blanket and turning off the light. The last thing I did before I left the room was set the alarm for him. Working with the horses was a good thing for West, and I’d be damned if I took that from him right now. He needed them as much as they needed him.