Page 38 of Close to Falling

“River, stop!” I scream, running over to them. People grab at him to try to pull him off, but he doesn’t let up. D reaches up and clocks River in the mouth, but it doesn’t faze him. My boy is relentless, and it’s all my fault. I see people running toward us in my peripheral vision. When I turn to see, it’s the police.

“River!” I scream again. He finally stops and looks back at me. The cops grab him by his arms and pull them behind his back. They are speaking to him, but his face is passive. Everyone is watching as River looks back at D.

“You sale drugs to B again, and I’ll cut your fucking throat, you piece of shit.” He spits blood out of his mouth, and I see his teeth are red.

“That’s enough, son,” one of the men in blue says as they put handcuffs on him and shove him forward.

“River, what the hell do I do?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it. Go home. I’ll be out in a bit.”

I shake my head, trying to understand how he is going to handle this, then realizing everyone is still staring.

“I’m so sorry, D,” I say as I walk away.

***

“How did River get out?” Ellie asks.

I sigh and rub my hand down my face. “River had one phone call, and it wasn’t to any of us. He called some guy he was working with down at the docks and was back home the next day. D didn’t press any charges either, even though River broke his nose. And I know it had to have been because of a threat.”

“You think he was threatened?”

“I’d bet my life on it,” I say, leaning my elbows on my knees and linking my fingers together.

“Okay, so what happened after that?”

“I went over to his house as soon as he got out,” I reply. “Apologizing like crazy, but it was a selfish apology. He messed up my drug connection, and I needed him to be my new one.”

***

“River, I’m sorry,” I say. “I…I couldn’t help it.”

“You lied to me, B. You have been lying to me for months about this shit. And you want to know the sad part? I knew it. I knew you were still taking those fucking pills.” He’s just out of the shower, and in nothing but basketball shorts.

“I tried to quit. I swear I did. I can’t help it,” I say, sitting down on the couch. My fingers shake, and my lungs feel uneasy as my knee bounces. It’s been almost a whole day without one, and I’m going through withdrawals. I stole a bottle of Frankie’s whiskey last night to make myself pass out, but this time is nothing like the last. I’m hooked. My whole body tingles with anxiety, and I feel sick.

“Why?” he asks. “Why can’t you help it? It’s got you like that, B?”

“Yes,” I say, looking up at him.

“You need help.” He sits down beside me and runs his hands through his shower clean hair. He’s lost because he doesn’t know what to do with me.

“I just need a pill a day. I can wing myself off it. I know I can stop if I can just do it slowly. This cold turkey isn’t working,” I tell him, feeling a cold sweat break across my face.

“Fuck, B,” he says, looking at me. “You’re pale as shit.”

“Please, River, baby. Just get me one last bit of them. I will quit. I promise,” I beg. Because that’s what this shit has done to me. I’m down to begging one addiction for the other. Love and a generic form of heroin battle each other inside my head, and I’m starting to think the chemicals are winning. My eyes sting with tears, and I blink. They roll down my cheeks, and I take a deep breath, trying with everything in me to overcome this.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he says, grabbing me. My mind is racing, trying to come up with a way to get more. He kisses my face and rubs the tears away with his hand. New calluses run across my cheek, and I lean into him. I touch my lips to his and try to clear my head of everything but River Dawson. But my mind is crazy, and as he deepens our kiss and pushes me back against the couch, I think of Cali. Maybe she can contact D and get some pills to give me. I’ll tell her to say she doesn’t even talk to me anymore. River runs his hand up my thigh, and my dress moves with it. Revealing my lace panties, he moves them to the side and rubs his fingers against me. And because I have figured out a way, some of the anxiousness leaves my body.

He leans back, watching me, as his hands love me. I reach up and pull his shorts down. After grabbing his cock from his boxers, I grip his shoulder with my free hand and pull him down closer to me. He removes his fingers and slides in, and I moan when he starts moving, because this is the next best thing—us together like this. He bites down on my neck, and I dig into the couch with my heels, trying to get more. Withdrawing, he sinks back in. I grab his ass and press him in farther. He shows me his dimples when he lifts his lips.

“I love you, B,” he says. “I’ll do anything for you. You know that, baby?”

“Yes,” I breathe. My feet slide his shorts down the back of his legs before my ankles cross behind his back. He’s needed kisses and endless love, my sweet addiction, and I’m riding high on him for a moment until it all stops and that wicked blue calls for me. He keeps driving on, hitting me where only he has ever been.

“Tell me,” he says. Love is needy, desperate, and making sure.

---