Page 2 of When Stars Fall

She stares at me, indecision on her face, and then her expression cements into a stubborn mask. “You’re out of control.”

I take the pills off the table and shove an oxy in my mouth, this time to dull the memory of this conversation, which will hang over us like a cloud. Tomorrow, I won’t want to remember she even suggested this. “The only person who gets to decide that is me.”

“I want you to quit.” She crosses her arms. “Deal with Isaac’s death, deal with your parents being terrible. Whatever underlying issues make you want to do this, be like this.”

“You knew who I was when you went home with me that first night. I’ve never lied to you,” I say with a harsh half laugh.

“You haven’t, but I’m asking you to be better. To want more for yourself—for us.”

“Now that you’ve fucked your way into better jobs and higher paychecks, you think you can dictate some terms?” I shove the coffee table out of the way, and the metal legs shriek against the stone floor. “Come on, Ellie. Where would you be without me? Still pretty far down the call list.” The second pill was a mistake. Words are tumbling out of my mouth and I can’t stop them. Her tears fall faster than she can brush them away. “Sure, Ellie. Sure. Bust out the tears. They won’t work. I’m not going to rehab; I’m not quitting any of it. We were fine until you went home to Bermuda. Who’s been pumping you full of this shit? Your mom? Your sister, Nikki? One of your old high school buddies who saw something on TMZ?”

“Iwant you to go to rehab.” Her voice is thick, garbled.

“You’re the only one.” I throw out my arms. It’s incomprehensible that she’d ask this of me.

“I’m not.” She shakes her head. “I’m not the only one.”

“Your family doesn’t count.” Her mother has never liked me. Maybe her sister doesn’t like me now either. Someone has been feeding her these lines. My Ellie is full of softness and understanding. She doesn’t give ultimatums.

“Producers, directors, people who know you have been asking me to do something. To intervene. You’re not coping.”

A surge of anger courses through me, but not at her—at the people who put her in this position. “They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“You’ll lose jobs. People won’t want to work with you anymore.”

“Bullshit. I make people money. I’ve made you a lot of money over the last four years. Being tied to me is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“It could be,” she says. “If you’ll get help. You could be the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“I don’t need help, Ellie. I’m fine.We’refine. Screw the rest of them who don’t understand.”

“I’mone of those people. Me. I don’t understand anymore either. You need help. I can’t—I’m not capable of giving you the help you need.”

My mind is muddled. She doesn’t ask me to do impossible things. She’d never ask me to choose. We had a pact. “Who put you up to this?”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “No one. It’s coming from my concern for you. I love you.”

“I was clear from the start. If there’s a choice, the choice is easy.” If she loved me, she wouldn’t be asking me to do this.

“Still? After we’ve been together almost four years?” Her voice catches on a sob.

My resolve wavers. I always let her win. She’s not winning this one. Once she cools down, she’ll realize I’m right. There’s nothing wrong with us. “I told you never to ask.”

She snatches a pamphlet off the floor, thrusting it at me again. “Try one of them. Any of them. Just go. Even for a little while. Doesn’t matter which one. If you won’t get help, I can’t stay. I won’t watch you spiral.” Her rambling pleas are almost incoherent through her tears.

“There are plenty of others who will.” I grab the pill bottle off the coffee table. “I’m going out. You have two choices. You can stay and accept that this is who I am, or be moved out by the morning. I’m not going to rehab, and we’reneverhaving this conversation again.”

“Wyatt!” My name is a frantic call as she chases after me to the front entrance. “Wyatt. Stay. Please. We need to talk about this.”

“We’re done talking. If my not being clean and sober is suddenly a deal breaker for you, then we’re broken. I’m serious. Forget about rehab or move out.”

“You don’t mean that.” Her face is already puffy from crying. She’s crying so hard I barely understand her words.

“I do. I really do.” Before I can reconsider, I slam the door behind me.

She won’t leave. Even if she wanted to, packing up and being gone in the next twenty-four hours is impossible. Our lives are too intertwined. Tomorrow, when I come back, we’ll pretend like this conversation never happened. Maybe we’ll even laugh about it. Ellie loves me. I know she does.

When I climb into the back of the car, my pills press against my leg through my pocket. I take out the bottle, pop off the lid, and stare into the container. Shaking out an Adderall, I throw it into my mouth. A little something to take the edge off, make me completely forget this conversation so I’m not so pissed at her tomorrow.

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