After I ended the call, I closed the laptop and pressed my forehead to the table.What a mess.How had I gotten myself into this?
Fine, I knew how I got here.I was trying not to feel, but how could I get myself out?
I sat there for a long time, listening to the hum of the fridge and the faint buzz of the city beyond the windows.I picked at the strip of dried paint from my jeans, but of course it wouldn’t come off.It never did.
Three days of hell.I had gone through hell before and survived, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.Just three days.Three very short days, in the grand scheme of things.
Running sounded okay, except I hated running.I tried to picture myself on the treadmill at the gym but immediately remembered that I didn’t even have a gym membership.And there was no way I was going outside, not with what had happened last week.The idea of jogging alone on the streets made my skin crawl.
Maybe I could run laps in my apartment, like a lunatic hamster.Or do burpees until I puked.Maybe I’d paint until I collapsed.Maybe I’d just white-knuckle it and see how long I would last before my brain short-circuited.
The one thing I didn’t want to do was call my sisters.Vera would just lecture me, and Ljuba would cry, and I couldn’t handle either of those things right now.So I paced the apartment, picking dried paint off every surface.
The lock rattled, almost making me jump out of my skin, and the door swung open.
Nick stepped inside with a bag of cat food and two foldable pet bowls in his hands.He took in the scene—the laptop, the mess, me standing there in socks and a hoodie—and raised an eyebrow.
“Rough day?”he asked.
“I’m an alcoholic,” I blurted, just to get it over with.“Wait, is that cat food?Why do you have cat food?”
“I got it for Meatball so he’d stop stealing,” Nick explained.
I grinned.“The cat that stole your meatballs?You named him Meatball?You really named the cat after the thing he stole from you?”
Nick shrugged.“Seemed only fair, but you’re deflecting.What was that about you being an alcoholic?”
I didn’t want to talk about it.But I forced myself to.“Therapist said it’s not just drinking.It’s an actual addiction.She literally called it ‘physiological dependence,’ and explained why just thinking about skipping a day makes my brain try to claw its way out the window.”I flexed my hands, all the buzzing anxiety making it hard to hold still.“There’s a three-day withdrawal horror show waiting for me if I try to quit cold turkey and I have no gym membership, and my primary exercise is painting, which doesn’t even count.”
Nick set down the bag, crossed over, and leaned in the doorway.“You talked about it?”
“Kind of.No way I’m oversharing with someone who wears expensive glasses and drinks tea out of a cup shaped like a lotus, but I did explain enough for her to understand the problem.”I flopped onto a chair.“I have to come up with another coping mechanism.Something that burns off the energy so I don’t, you know, chase the high with vodka.”
He nodded.“You want to go running with me in the mornings?I need the exercise, anyway, and I’m supposed to be keeping you safe.”
I rolled my eyes.“Sure, and die of shame after two blocks.”
He grinned.“I’ll go easy on you.”
I shook my head.“You’re pushy, you know that?”
He shrugged.“Works on you.”
For a while, we just stood in the entryway, me in socks and ratty pajamas, Nick in his jeans and a T-shirt that clung to his shoulders in the most delicious way.
“You know, we used to compete at the Bureau to see who could function with the highest blood alcohol content,” Nick said.
I snorted.“That sounds like a health hazard.”
“It’s only a hazard if you lose,” he deadpanned.
I laughed, feeling just a touch lighter.It was just that...I was an alcoholic.What did that say about me aside from me being even more of a mess?I hadn’t thought I was good enough for Nick even before this, and now...
Nick stepped closer, putting both hands on my hips.“I think it’s pretty badass to admit you have a problem and try to fix it.”
I squirmed, wishing I could disappear into my hoodie.“Would’ve been more badass if I didn’t have this problem.I don’t even have an excuse of having no control over it.I did this to myself.”
Nick shook his head and pulled me closer to him.“You made a mistake while trying to deal with a whole lot of trauma.No one can blame you for that.So if you want to go cold turkey, I’ll be here to watch you shake and curse and throw things at me.Or if you want to taper off, I’ll keep score.Either way, you’re not doing it alone.”
