“Yes. I’ll leave if you choose to leave. If you want me to call Echo about suboxone or any other options, I can do that. While you decide, I’m going to do my best to tidy up here. Get me the—”
“I hate you, you bastard. You’re a fucking hypocrite.” He picked up one of my books and threw it against the wall. Then another. I saved my phone and tablet but let him throw everything else. The room looked like a tornado hit it.
“I’m giving you ten minutes,” I told him. “That’s enough time to decide if you want to leave.”
I set the timer on my phone and showed him.
“Fuck off.” He turned to face the wall. “I hate you.”
“I don’t hate you. I never will.”
Long, tense moments passed while I continued to pick up all the things he’d thrown. I got the laundry bag we’d put his things in from the bathroom and packed both our bags.
It killed me to wait, to listen to his rough breathing and not give in. The tension in the air practically crushed me, but I would not push Tug into something he didn’t ask for, didn’t want. Tug wanting to use wasn’t a deal breaker for any of us. That was normal. Support could keep Tug safer than he would be on the street after an overdose—especially in the first few days. I wanted to help him, but if he walked away, then so would I.
“Don’t go.” Tug smashed into my back and wrapped both arms around me. “Please. I’m sorry. Don’t go. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”
“Are you saying you want to stay here in the motel with me?” His tears heated the back of my neck. “Do you want me to call Echo?”
I felt him nod his head. “Okay.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed her number. She was staying at my place and had plans to drive back to San Francisco soon. I hoped they hadn’t already left.
“Hey, I’m sorry it’s so early, Echo. Can Tug talk to you?”
“Sure,” she sounded exhausted. “You’re almost out of coffee creamer, you bastard.”
“I keep vanilla creamer pods in the pantry for when I run out. Use those.”
“You’re a prince. Thanks.” I heard her whisper something to Gayle. “Put Tug on.”
I left them to it. With Tug talking to Echo, I felt safe going out into the crisp blue morning stillness. Even though it was cold, the air felt wonderful on my skin.
Tug’s behavior had shaken me badly. His swing from compliant and sleepy to enraged and out of control had happened so fast I shook from the adrenaline coursing through my limbs.
Seeing firsthand how Tug could suddenly turn volatile gave me a new appreciation for Echo’s and Gayle’s work. I leaned against the door of my car and gave myself an attaboy for not overreacting.
After a few minutes, the motel room door opened and Tug walked out, carrying the phone.
“She wants to talk to you.”
“Thanks.” I tried but couldn’t find a smile for him before I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, cuz.”
Tug went back inside.
“Hey, are you okay?” asked Echo. “Tug told me what happened.”
“He tested my patience a bit.”
“I’ll bet. Look. Maybe we shouldn’t wait for a bed in the facility I wanted for him. Maybe anyplace that can fit him in—”
“What did he say? Does he want to do that?”
“He’s still pretty unwilling to commit. He’s adamantly opposed to anything religious and he considers twelve step a religion. Someplace that doesn’t necessarily use that exact structure could benefit him greatly.”
“Did he say he still wanted to tough it out here until Monday?”
“That’s his preference, but I’m not risking my cousin—”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t,” she warned. “He said he lost control and threw things around.”
“He did.”
“Were you scared?”
“I was terrified.” Until he clung to me, begging me to stay. Am I a moron? I didn’t want to look too closely at the answer to that. “I’ll make my boundaries really clear to him. I won’t stay if he lays a finger on me in anger.”
“Addicts test all the time.” There was a frown in her voice. “Some are pathologically predisposed to cross any line you draw in the sand.”
“Then what should I do?”
“What does your gut say? Do you believe you’re in physical danger?”
“No.”
Emotional danger?
That was another thing I didn’t want to look at too closely.
Chapter Seven
Echo and Gayle stopped by to return my house keys. At least they had gotten a few hours of sleep.
The gray, cloudy sky reflected my mood when I left the room. I’d never been so grateful for the freedom to walk down the street or shop at a gas station mini market. I got a couple of bottled coffee drinks with plenty of cream and sugar for Tug while I was out, along with just-add-water oatmeal cups, chips, and beef jerky.
By the time I got back, Echo and Gayle were ready to leave.
Echo came outside to talk to me while Gayle stayed with Tug.
“Tough night, huh?” she said.
“You could say that.” The hot coffee hit my tongue with a welcome, if acrid, flood of flavor.
“I know it might not look that way, but time is progress.”
“Can you tell me how long the acute withdrawal symptoms last?”
“Hard to say. Likely a week. You only have to worry about the first couple days. Those aren’t the worst, believe it or not. Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“No.”
“Gayle will message you a list of things to look out for—primarily dehydration. He hasn’t been injecting that long, at least that’s what he says. He doesn’t have any family to help?”
“No.”
“From my experience, people don’t appear on earth spontaneously. Maybe if you get him to open up to the possibility of calling his relatives, he might try that.”
“My parents played surrogate sometimes.”
“You think they’d help?”
“They would. Absolutely. But I’m not asking them to. And don’t you dare tell them about this. They’ll get all involved, and if things go poorly—”
“May I point out the whole pot-kettle thing you have going on?”
I shrugged. “I knew going in what I was getting myself into. I won’t let my parents get sucked into some heroin addict’s drama.”
Echo winced visibly. Her gaze rested on something behind me. I turned and found Gayle and Tug standing there.
“Tell me how you really feel.” Tug tightened his fists.
Oh, here we go. “Sorry. It’s harsh, but I don’t want to tell my parents what happened yet, if ever. My mom would freak if she knew how close you came to dying.”
“Understandable.” Gayle put her hand on Tug’s shoulder. “There will be time for reunions later.”
“I’ll be here with you until we take you to the facility,” I reminded him. “I have friends who will bring things if we need them. I hope that will be enough for now.”