Page 46 of Echoes of Us

He stood silently for a moment before shaking his head slightly. I had a feeling it wasn’t.

“Then what is it?”

He glanced down at his feet and ran his tongue over his lower lip. He was so nervous. It broke my heart to see him this scared.

“I need to know, Noah,” I said gently.

He took a deep breath and grabbed his jeans. He pulled his wallet out and handed me something. I stared at the little plastic bag in my hand and my heart sank. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew it was a hell of a lot more serious than weed.

“Atty.”

“Whatisit?”

He shrugged. “Coke,” he said, barely above a whisper.

I tugged on his hand and made him sit next to me. I placed the bag on my nightstand and laced his fingers through mine. “Noah.”

He was looking down at our hands. “I’ll stop. I haven’t even been doing it. Not this weekend,” he said quickly.

“Why was it in your wallet, then?” I asked him.

He took a deep breath. “Just in case.”

I frowned. “Just in case of what?”

He closed his eyes. He was holding onto my hand tightly.

“I’m not going to leave you, Noah, but I need to understand this. I need to understand what you’re going through if I’m going to help you.”

He got more worked up the more I talked. He let go of my hand and pushed off the bed. “I don’t need help. I’ll just stop,” Noah said, shaking his head.

Suddenly, I remembered Ezra’s face, full of apprehension, and Colin’s concern, the way he tiptoed around the subject of Noah and drugs. I even understood why Noah had called himself a washed-up junkie jock. They were right. I was in over my head. I barely knew how to handle people drinking around me. How the hell was I supposed to deal with this?

I got up from bed and he turned back towards me.

“I’ll be right back.” I didn’t even bother with shoes or something to cover up. I just walked out and went to the bathroom, which was blissfully empty. I leaned on the sink and watched my reflection closely. I looked as scared as I felt. I turned on the water and splashed my face. I couldn’t leave him, but I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to handle him. This was too much.

I turned off the tap and looked in the mirror. Noah was standing behind me.

“Atty, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to stop looking at me like you do. I didn’t want you to stop feeling the way you do about me.”

I turned to face him. I could see the guilt reflected in his eyes.

“I’m not, Noah. This is just a lot, and I’m trying to process it. The rehab—this is a proper addiction, Noah. This isn’t just having fun,” I told him, keeping my voice down.

“I’ll stop.”

“Are you going to get help?” I asked him.

He walked over to the toilets, emptied the bag’s contents, threw it in, and flushed. His jaw set in determination.

“There, I’ve stopped,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. If he was properly addicted, I guess it wouldn’t have been that easy to throw it away. He couldn’t just say he would quit. He’d find excuses to keep doing it. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

He approached me and put his hands on the sides of my face. “I don’t need it, but I do need you.”

The heaviness wouldn’t leave my chest.

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