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“Breathe, West,” Meghan spoke up calmly in front of me. “Focus. Let’s change her diaper and see if that helps.”
I nodded jerkily and walked toward the stairs to go change her diaper. It was wet, but she only continued fussing. Meghan came into her nursery with a bottle of milk, but Hope pushed it away, her screaming only growing louder.
Tears filled my eyes. I lightly bounced her around the room, cooing softly to her to try to calm her. I patted her back, wishing I could just get her to stop crying. I had no idea how to help her, to calm her.
Hope suddenly released a huge burp and spit up all over my chest and shoulder.
But she stopped crying.
I dropped into the rocking chair in relief, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Fuck. Lincoln, change Hope,” Jessie suddenly ordered.
I jerked open my eyes to see my two men quickly making their way to me. Lincoln gently pried Hope from my hands and took her over to her changing table to change her clothes. Jessie gripped my hands in his, gently pulling me up from the rocking chair. “Come on, baby. Let’s go get cleaned up,” he softly coaxed.
I jerkily nodded my head, not able to speak yet. I was still a bit overwhelmed by Hope’s screaming. Without a word, Jessie pulled my t-shirt over my head once our bedroom door was shut, and he stripped me out of my leggings. My bra and panties followed next before he quickly stripped out of his clothes and led me into the shower.
I flinched when the icy water hit my skin. Once the water was warm, Jessie silently pulled the shower head down and ran it over my chest and shoulder. “Some of it got in your hair,” he quietly told me.
I quickly wrapped my arms around him when he put the shower head back in place. He folded his arms around me in turn, squeezing me tight to his muscular frame. “You did good, baby. You did so fucking good. I know it was hard and terrifying for you, but you pushed through, baby girl.” He pressed his lips to mine, softly coaxing them apart, deepening the kiss for a moment before he pulled his lips back from mine. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I drew in a shuddered breath before I stepped back from him. He grabbed my shampoo and quickly washed my hair. I shut my eyes, allowing him to take care of me.
“It’s time for you to go back to Dr. Gresham for another medication change,” Jessie spoke up as he rinsed my hair. I tensed. I wasn’t ready for that. I was still doing therapy. Wasn’t that enough?
“West, baby, I know you’re seeing him every week so far for therapy, but your bipolar depression is acting up pretty badly. I know you thought you were doing good, but I think you hit a manic episode, and now, you’re hitting a really bad low. You’re going to see him tomorrow. I’ve already made an appointment.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need more medication,” I grumbled.
“Shh,” he soothed. “Yes, you do, West. Do you want to feel these ups and downs for the rest of your life? You need medication, and you need to constantly be on it. And I’m going to make sure you don’t talk anyone out of them this time. You’re going on them—probably for the rest of your life.”
I glared up at him. “I don’t fucking need medication, Jessie. I fucking hate taking what I have as it is,” I snapped.
He narrowed his eyes at me, not backing down. “I don’t give a fuck, West. I will personally shove them down your throat every damn day if I have to. You fucking need medication because this shit you’re going through—it’s not fucking normal, and if we don’t do something about it, you might fucking finally hit the very bottom and commit suicide.” I flinched. He knew I’d had those thoughts as a teenager, and I knew he had a valid point. “We are not fucking losing you, West.” He gripped my face in his hands, those dark eyes holding so much love for me that they brought tears to my eyes. “I will not fucking lose you, West.”
I backed down at the fear I glimpsed. “Okay,” I choked out, a tear slipping down my cheek.
He pulled me into his arms, just holding me as we stood under the spray of water.
He’d admitted it without ever saying the words though.
I really was fucked up—fucked up enough to need medication for the rest of my life.
41
West
Dr. Gresham leaned back in the chair he was sitting on as he regarded me. “How bad is it?”
I swallowed thickly. Was it that obvious that I felt like I was holding on to my sanity by a single, tiny thread, and it was getting ready to pop?
