Page 106 of Take My Hand

“Don’t.” He scoffs. “You wanted to know what happened, well, there it is. I can’t go anywhere, do anything, without thinking about it. And if I just want a few moments of reprieve and can find that in a bottle of something hard, then I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“You can’t use it as a crutch though. You need to find other ways to work through it or else you’re never going to be able to get anywhere with yourself.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He throws his hands up. “Is my coping mechanism not up to your standards? Sorry that not all of us were able to just move on like you. Back out on the road, basking in all of your fame like nothing ever happened.”

I shoot up from my chair, towering over the bed and all thoughts of trying to rein in my anger have evaporated. “Like nothing happened? Are you fucking serious? I didn’t leave my house for almost a year because I was terrified to be outside and around people!”

“Well, you clearly seem to be past that now,” he mutters.

“No, I’m not fucking past it now. I’ve just actually worked through my shit enough to be able to start to live my life again. Just like our parents and Lucas have.”

He rolls his eyes and it pisses me off even more.

“Do you really think that I’ve just jumped back into my life with no repercussions?”

“I wouldn’t know because you don’t talk to me.”

“You don’t talk to me! How many unanswered texts and calls do you have from me on your phone?”

The parallel of my words to Reid’s admission at the dinner weeks ago hits me like a tidal wave. He said almost the exact same thing to me, was hurt by the same thing that Will has done to me these past few months.

The irony isn’t lost on me, but I need to focus on one thing at a time.

Will crosses his arms across his chest, refusing to answer.

“Well, if you truly want to know, then let me lay it out for you. I’ve been so fucked in the head from it all that I barely spoke to or saw anyone for months after I went back home. And when I started trying to get back out there, even a walk around the neighborhood could set me into a panic attack. I had to put everything in my life on hold just in order to try to maintain my existence.”

Will’s eyes flick to mine, the only sign that he’s listening to what I’m saying.

“I lived like that for too long. Until one day I woke up and realized that I had fucking survived. We had fucking survived. And I wasn’t living even when my heart was still beating. So I got a therapist, started working through my shit, and after a year and half of darkness, I did return to work and got back out on the road.”

I don’t tell him about the lawsuits that we were being threatened with in order to get us back out there. They were the strongest motivator, but he needs to believe that it was also because of my own strength that brought me back out.

“You went to therapy?” he asks, voice small but betraying a hint of curiosity.

I nod. “For almost a year.” I fell out of it when I went back on the road in January. As soon as the tour wrapped, I planned on restarting but got so sidetracked with everything else going on that I never made an appointment.

And even though I’m doing mostly good, I know it’s something I should start up again because I could be better and I never want to rely on Carter to be the one to keep me feeling better when we’re out and I get anxious.

“Did it help?”

“It did.”

Will picks at his fingernails, not meeting my gaze.

“If you want, I’ll help you find a therapist that can help you, too.”

He’s still under my parents’ health insurance, but there’s no amount of money I wouldn’t pay for my brother to find someone that he can talk to, someone to help him learn to cope.

He doesn’t answer and unlike in the past, where I’ve taken his silence and accepted it for what it is, not wanting to push him, I can’t do it anymore. It’s because of everyone not wanting to push him to talk, to find help, to let him process on his own is what led us to sitting here in this hospital room.

“You need help, Will. It’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You witnessed something you should’ve never had to and it’s not fair.”

He clenches his fists, balling up the thin blanket covering his legs.

“But it’s also not fair to our parents, your friends, Lucas and me, and mostly yourself to continue on like this.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

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