“Is that how you found me?”
“No, baby. I was here with the guys for Cody’s bachelor party thing. I just so happened to see you up there right before she texted me.”
“Wait, what? Mom’s in the hospital?” My words about the situation seemed to finally sink in. “What the hell happened? Is she okay? Where has she been?”
I ran my hands up and down his arms. “It’s a psychiatric hold. I don’t know the details. That’s why we need to go. Grab your things and I’ll drive us in your car. I rode to town with one of the guys.”
Stevie made his way back to the dancer lounge in a daze, emerging a minute later with a backpack. He still only wore the tank and boy shorts, so I quickly slipped my jacket off and wrapped it around his shoulders while taking the backpack from him.
We didn’t talk on the drive back. Stevie tried calling the hospitalto get more information, but they were tight-lipped since he couldn’t prove he was related to her until he showed his ID. When we were only fifteen minutes out from the hospital, we finally got a hold of the doctor in charge of her case.
“Someone found her standing on the edge of an overpass,” he said in a sympathetic voice over speakerphone after asking Stevie if he knew of her drug use history and hearing his emphaticno. “She wasn’t responsive to law enforcement’s attempts to talk to her, so they involved emergency medical help. We determined enough risk to her safety to put her on a seventy-two-hour hold. Jodi asked us not to contact her family members, but it’s my understanding she’s now spoken to Dr. Wilde and rescinded that request.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Stevie asked. I reached over and clasped his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I think so. We’ve gone through some counseling already and done quite a bit of intake information gathering. Of course we’d love to talk to you as well, Mr. Devore, but as of right now I’d say she’s suffering from severe depression that can most likely be treated successfully with a combination of counseling and medication.”
Stevie glanced at me before looking out the window again. “I don’t… I mean we don’t…” he exhaled. “She doesn’t have insurance.”
“I’ll cover it,” I said firmly before he could argue. “It’s important, and I have the money.”
“There are some programs that can help also,” the doctor continued. “I’m happy to put you in touch with a community liaison who can steer you in the right direction. In the meantime, why don’t we plan on meeting for a joint counseling session tomorrow at four if that works for you?”
“Yes, sir,” Stevie said, nodding. “We’ll be there. Thank you so much for your help. If you see her before then, please tell her I love her and have everything under control at home.”
“I certainly will.”
We continued the drive to my house without speaking. Stevie held on to my hand with both of his like it was a lifeline. When Ipulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, Stevie turned to me.
“Evan, I need your help. I don’t think I can do this by myself anymore.”
Hearing him say those words was almost more meaningful than hearing him tell me he loved me. Because I knew he finally trusted me enough to let go. He finally accepted that I was on his side and he didn’t need to be alone anymore.
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to do anything by yourself ever again.”
19
STEVIE
We spenthours that night making plans. Evan treated me like an equal the entire time, asking me how I wanted to handle Willow’s custodial situation while my mom got treatment. I told him about all of my jobs and exactly how much money I made, including a brief rundown of our expenses including the new dance lessons commitment which, in hindsight, was a bad decision.
“I disagree,” Evan said in a brusque voice. “Willow deserves something special that’s just for her. And we can afford it. The dance lessons stay.”
He was making a list on a legal pad where we sat at the kitchen table, and he emphasized his point by underlining the Valley Cross Dance Studio entry twice. I noticed my jaw begin to tremble.
“Don’t be nice,” I warned him. “I can’t handle it right now, Butt.”
He reached over and ran long fingers through my hair. “Too bad. I’m going tonicethe hell out of you. If you need to cry, then cry. I can take it.”
The tears came quickly. Of course they did. Because the stupid fucker hadn’t heeded my warning. “It’s all your fault,” I wailed. “I told you not to be that guy. The nice one. Thestupidfucking nice one.”
His mouth dropped open in surprise, and he rushed to wipe mytears away with his thumbs. “Shit. Stevie, fuck. I didn’t realize you were really going to cry like this. Make it stop. Baby, please.”
His face was creased with concern as he continued to apologize. It was funny, really. Clearly he wasn’t used to crying boyfriends. I hiccupped and hitched several breaths before wailing again. It was a doozie, and even my sugar daddy frantically scooping me a bowl of mint chocolate chip didn’t make a dent in the waterworks.
Evan finally stopped in the middle of the kitchen with his hands up in surrender and a panic-stricken expression on his face. “Please stop crying, I beg you.” His voice was hoarse, and I thought maybe his own eyes were wet. “You’re breaking my heart. I can’t take it.” He knelt on the floor and laid his head in my lap. “Please.”
He really was amazing, and he clearly loved the hell out of me.
