Page 33 of The Darkness Within

“I said what I said. I didn’t stutter. You heard me loud and clear. If I said something that you don’t like, maybe you should look closely at that.” He crosses the kitchen, coming closer, close enough that I can smell his spicy body wash. His hair is damp, the short ends curling in disarray, like he just stepped out of the shower. “I’m not your enemy. You don’t need my help. You do a fine job all on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you are your own worst enemy. Nobody can hate you more than you hate yourself. The drugs just make you forget that for a little while.”

His conscience is the last voice I need to hear this morning. “I’m sore from working out yesterday and I’ve got to go back again today after work.”

“And how many pills do you have in your hand?”

“I don’t know.” Sighing, I glance at the cocktail. I should have swallowed it as soon as I heard his footsteps creeping down the damn hall. “Probably too many.” I hand him three, keeping one for myself, which I swallow dry. “Don’t look at me like that, Brewer.”

How does he do that thing with his eyes that makes me feel instant guilt? My mother used to do the same thing.

“I just want to be able to trust you. I don’t want to keep worrying about you, Nash. I want you to want this for yourself as much as I want it for you.”

Why can’t he care a little less, from a distance? “I’m trying,” I grit out.

“Try harder.”

Ignoring him, I set up the coffee machine and search out a mug among the many cabinets. I’m going to need to make a grocery list because now that I’m taking less pills, I’m beginning to develop an appetite. The smell of roasted coffee permeates the kitchen, further provoking my hunger. Grabbing a blue mug that says, “some like it hot”, I breathe in the fragrant steam as I fill my cup and turn to face a silent and waiting Brewer while I savor my first sip.

The pill I swallowed barely does the trick. If I’d taken the entire handful, like I wanted to, I’d already be feeling the effects—blurred vision, seeing double, a floaty head and loosening in my limbs, and the most coveted of side effects, the thoughts in my head would be farther out of reach, harder to grab onto and torture myself with.

Well, fuck. My shoulders sag with defeat. I’ve just admitted to myself I didn’t take them to relieve soreness. Shit, Brewer’s right. I’m a goddamn addict. I’m running from myself, running scared, afraid to slow down long enough to let my past catch up with me. Because I’m not strong enough to face it. Or at least, I wasn’t, because I was alone, but now I’m not. Now, I have Brewer. I guess I’m also a Bitch, ‘cause it seems like those guys are nagging me every time I turn around.

“Will you sponsor me?”

He hesitates, and his rejection stings. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Please don’t say no. I have no one else to ask. I want this, Brewer. I want to stay clean, I really do. I just don’t know who else to trust but you. You say you want me to talk about it and get honest, but I can’t just do that with anyone. It has to be you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you no, I just need you to know that I’m… I’m gay. I’m attracted to men.” He swallows. “In the program, it isn’t always recommended that men like me sponsor other men. Just like men and women shouldn’t sponsor each other if they’re straight.”

He isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know, but I eye him with a raised brow, encouraging him to continue. Brewer’s nervous, or at the very least, self-aware, and it’s kind of amusing, and a bit of a relief to not always be the one in the hot-seat.

“You know,” he continues, “because they could be attracted to each other.”

“Are you saying you’re attracted to me?”

“No,” he blushes, “that’s not what I’m saying. What I mean is—”

His scruffy cheeks turn rosy, the color creeping down his neck into his collared Polo shirt. “So you’re not attracted to me?”

“I didn’t say that either. I just mean that—”

“Relax, Brewer. I know what you mean.” Closing the distance between us, I straighten his already straight collar, just so I can get in his space and smell his body wash again. Mixed with his own natural scent, it’s addicting. “I’m also gay.”

He looks stunned. “You are? I mean—you know—”

“No, what did you mean?”

“I thought maybe you were bisexual because I felt like you were flirting with me.”

I’m enjoying this way too much. “No, I’m only interested in men. My squad knew, and so did Gutierrez. We didn’t talk about it much, but they ripped me sometimes. Have I really been flirting with you?” My eyes drop to his lips, and he smirks when he follows my gaze.

“Please,” he laughs “you’re a terrible flirt.”

“I’m terrible at flirting? Or I’m a huge flirt?”

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