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“I don’t know, Liam,” Tria replied softly. “You frightened me, and I understand now, but that doesn’t change how much you scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I told her.
“I know you didn’t mean to,” she said, “but you did. And I don’t know how to make you better.”
I gripped the sheets on the bed in a vain attempt to keep myself grounded. I had to be able to think straight. I had to be able to turn this around.
I was losing, and I couldn’t lose.
“If you are going to do this—” I struggled as my throat tried to seize up on me. It took a minute, and I had to start again. “If you are going to go through with this, I want to be there. I have to be able to protect you—keep you safe.”
Tria let out a soft, humorless laugh.
“Liam, you are in no condition to save yourself. What good a
re you to me right now?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I won’t do any of that shit again—I swear—”
“Don’t!” Tria yelled, cutting me off. “Don’t you make another promise to me, Liam Teague. I can’t take any more of those.”
She eyed me for a minute.
“Actions,” she said. “There have to be actions for me to even think about it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, and then decided it didn’t matter. “Whatever it is, Tria—I’ll do it. Whatever you want—whatever you need.”
“Thirty days,” Tria said with a nod.
“What?” I leaned back a bit as my eyebrows came together.
“I’ll give you thirty days,” she repeated. “You do whatever Dr. Baynor tells you—see a counselor, get on medication, take care of yourself, stay clean…hell, keep your apartment clean. I don’t want to hear any excuses about why any of it couldn’t be done.”
I swallowed and nodded.
“There’s one more thing,” she said, “and I know this one is probably going to be the hardest, but I think it’s an important one.”
“What?” I asked.
“Talk to your mother.” Tria’s eyes were calm and sure, while my insides felt like they were being turned inside out. “Someday you are going to need to talk to your father, too, but you need to start with your mother.”
“No,” I responded. “I’m not doing that.”
She turned her mouth into a tight-lipped, sad smile as she glanced down at the floor.
“Then you aren’t ready to be a father.”
Tria turned slowly and started toward the door. As she moved away from me, the inside-out feelings in my stomach spread to the rest of my body.
“Don’t!” I cried out. “Don’t go! Please! I’ll do it! I’ll talk to her!”
She kept her eyes on mine, and the sight of more tears caused by me as they rolled down her cheeks was more than I could take.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll talk to any of them—all of them. Whoever you want—my family, the doctors—just don’t…don’t leave me.”
“Thirty days,” she said again. “Prove to me you can do it.”
“I can.”
