Page 87 of You're the Reason

Grace turned to him. “Maybe you should go.”

“Are you serious?” He looked as though she’d slapped him. And could she blame him? She had just said he could trust her to be there for him and now she was kicking him out the first chance she got. But she would be there. She just needed to get her parents out of there first.

“She asked you to leave.” Her mother pinned him with a glare.

Seth drew a slow breath and touched her elbow. “Grace?—”

“You probably did that to her face too.” Her mom reached for her face, but she pulled back.

When Seth didn’t answer, her father took a step toward him, hand clenching into a fist at his side. Then as if realizing how much bigger Seth was, he lifted his cell phone. “I’m calling Officer Hammond.”

“This”—Grace motioned to her face—“is not his fault.”

“You should leave.” Her father opened the door and waited.

“I am not leaving Grace.” Seth stepped around her, blocking her from her parents. Much like he’d done with Gabe.

The fire was returning, and she knew he was just protecting her, but she couldn’t chance him getting in a fight with her dad right now. “Seth, leave. I’ll call you later. I promise.”

Seth looked ready to say more but finally gave her a curt nod and walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

A moment ago, she’d been in euphoria and now... She wanted to be anywhere but here. Her parents were no doubt ready for a fight. “I love you guys, but I don’t care what you think you know. You don’t know him.”

Her mom opened her mouth, but her dad’s hand landed gently on her arm. When her mother looked at him, he subtly shook his head, then turned to Grace. “When are you headed back to Chicago?”

“I... I don’t know.” Her dad always had a way of turning the questions to keep her off balance. “When I make that decision, I’ll let you know.”

Her dad nodded and then motioned to the door. “We should go.”

“I’ve been teaching a class. Tomorrow is a mini-performance, if you want to come to the gazebo at ten. But I will warn you, I’m doing a lift with Seth.”

Her mother’s face hardened as she opened her mouth again. But her father stepped in. “We’ll see.”

When her mother’s head jerked toward him, he gave her a look laced with meaning. Then they were gone.

She lifted her phone and dialed Seth’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Probably better to let him calm down first anyway. And maybe by the time he’d calmed down, she’d know what to say about that kiss, because there was no way to pretend that one didn’t happen.

When Grace said she’d call, Seth expected it would be an hour or two at most. But here he sat at a quarter after eleven and still nothing.

Seth climbed off the couch and walked to the sink for more water. If he’d felt rough earlier, now was ten times worse. His head screamed, and his back and neck muscles were paying the price. He stared at his phone again, willing it to ring. Nothing.

The baggie of drugs next to his phone snagged his attention and held it. He’d pretty much walked in, dumped out his pockets on the table, downed two Advil, and crashed on the recliner. But four hours later, his headache was back worse than ever, Grace hadn’t called, and that bag of ecstasy never looked more tempting.

It wasn’t the thrill of the high he wanted—he’d gotten over that long ago. This was something different. It was as if his body and mind craved, hungered for the release the little pills could offer. Freedom from pain, freedom from decisions, freedom from thinking.

But that freedom always came with a price. The price of ruined relationships. The price of becoming someone he didn’t even recognize. He picked up the baggie and dumped the contents in his hand. This was way more than ten bucks’ worth. He’d been right about Gabe grooming Zane. Suddenly, he wished he’d landed a few more punches.

As the frustration rose, so did the hunger and need for what was in his hand. He needed to dump it all and fast, before his last shred of willpower was gone. He carried them to the bathroom and held his hand over the toilet. He hesitated as the too familiar bitter, sweet scent wafted up, resurrecting memories of nights long ago offering promises of escape.

He pressed his lips together as his hands began to shake. Would one be so bad? Yes. It would, but then why couldn’t he do this? He was too weak. He refused to be weak. Weak was not who he was anymore. Then why couldn’t he turn his hand?

Nate’s words and verse from the gym came back. We’re all weak at some time... Isaiah 40:29: He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

God, help.

It wasn’t his fanciest prayer, but he’d never prayed a more heartfelt one. He closed his eyes and breathed the words out again. “God, help me, please.”

There was a series of small splashes and Seth opened his eyes. His hand was palm down, and the ecstasy sat at the bottom of the porcelain bowl.

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