Page 30 of Unwanted

He always would be.

There would be nothing else.

Nobody else.

But him.

10

ARLO

“Great job, man.” I slow down the speed on my treadmill, just as Rhys’s machine stops beside me. “How do you feel?”

He rubs his gym towel over his flushed face, trying to catch his breath. “I think I might die.”

I chuckle. “It definitely feels like that in the beginning, but I promise you it will get easier.”

He downs a whole bottle of water before responding. “I hope so, because I need a little bit of easy.”

“Is everything okay?” We both step down off the treadmills and walk across the gym floor toward the lockers. “Are you attending regular meetings and talking to Jenika?”

I didn’t like when people pried into my life, so I tried to avoid doing it to others, but something about Rhys has me pushing past my own boundaries, wanting to make sure everything is going as smoothly as it possibly can be for him right now.

“I am,” he answers hesitantly.

“But…” I probe.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

I take a stab in the dark with my next line of questioning. “Are you doing this alone?”

He unlocks his locker and hides his face inside while answering. “What do you mean by alone?”

“Like, do you have a support system? Friends? Family?”

I watch his knuckles whiten as he grips the metal door. I’ve clearly hit a nerve. The thing about addiction is it isn’t like the movies. More often than not there is no intervention motivated by love and there is nobody waiting for you on the other side.

For most of us, you get sober because it’s the only thing standing between you and death’s door. And a lot of the time, death’s door is much more inviting.

“Rhys,” I say softly.

His head stays buried in the locker.

“Rhys,” I repeat. “You don’t have to answer my question. It was invasive and really none of my business. I’m sorry.”

Eventually his face comes into view, his eyes now rimmed red with pain and exhaustion. “I’m just not used to someone taking the time to ask if I’m okay,” he admits. “It’s all a lot to deal with right now.”

“It is,” I assure him, remembering just how hard it is to adjust to the constant state of feeling exposed and vulnerable. “It might seem like nobody cares right now, but please remember that we might not be the people you thought would have your back, but we’re here for you. In any way you need us to be.”

Swallowing hard, he nods and I point to his phone. “Do you have my cell number?” Holding my hand out, I don’t give him a chance to respond. “Here, pass me your cell, and if you need anything, anything at all,” I reiterate, “even if it’s an extra workout, just call me.”

Avoiding my gaze, he continues to look inside the locker, but he does hand me his phone. I quickly put my number in and add the gym’s landline in case he doesn’t already have it.

When he composes himself enough to meet my gaze, I lob the cell in his direction and look at him pointedly. “Call me.”

Giving in, he nods, and I feel a sliver of confidence that he trusts me enough to seek me out if he really needs help.

It’s not my usual MO, but the helplessness and loneliness in Rhys’s demeanor feels familiar and makes me worry.

---