Page 72 of His Little Secret in Discretion
“That’s exactly what you told me before rehab!” I yelled, my heart clenching as I watched him helplessly. “That’s exactly what you told meevery single timeyou’ve done this.”
I was trying to see if my words were breaking through to him. I thought he’d understood, I thought he wanted to change for himself, for us. But he wasn’t hearing me. If he heard me, if he did care, he wouldn’t have done this again. He would have admitted he couldn’t fight it, instead of tearing down what little we had left.
He would never change.
The truth hit my chest. Not if he didn’t decide to on his own, and I couldn’t make him. Not anymore.
“…You’ll never change.”
“Maia, honey—” he began.
I shook my head. “It's my fault.” I wiped away my tears. “You weren’t ready to change. I should’ve accepted that from the beginning instead of hoping for the best. No matter how hard I try… it won’t happen.” I sniffled softly.
His lips parted like he wanted to deny it. “You’ve always been the only one who believed in me. You know I don’t mean to let you down. I can still fix this, you know that… We’ll start again. I’ll go back to the facility. They’ll put me on a new plan and I—” His words faltered as a sob raked my chest.
The words broke me more than the relapse itself because I knew what that meant. Another round of bills. Another round of me scraping together rent each month, of living on scraps while he sat in another program he didn’t care to finish. Another round of me bleeding myself dry just so he could make another careless mistake when it was over.
If he really cared, he wouldn’t ask me to do it again. If he really cared, he wouldn’t let me kill myself trying to save him.
I shrugged, defeated, my face still red hot with messy tears as a bittersweet smile pulled weakly at my lips.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered, and instantly I could see a flicker of panic pass through his eyes.
“Kid, give me another chance. I’ll do better,” he almost pleaded.
Crouching down, I grabbed his warm hand in mine, holding back my sobs as best I could. “I love you…” My whisper broke as I shook my head. “But loving you doesn’t mean I can keep saving you. Not when you don’t want to save yourself.”
His grip tightened like he could anchor me there. “Maia—”
“I can’t watch you do this anymore. Not to yourself. Not to me.”
Standing, I ignored the way his hand tightened, I ignored the tears that came to the corner of his eyes before I slipped from his grasp and walked back the way I’d come. He didn’t call my name to stop me; he didn’t say anything as he watched, and it was probably for the best. Because if he did? I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to keep walking.
Chapter twenty-seven
Maia
The night air felt damp against my skin, my legs numb as I passed another bar. I tugged my jacket tighter, sneakers dragging against the cracked sidewalk as I cut another pointless block.
I could’ve been home half an hour ago, but the thought of stepping into that apartment, into the silence, into the reminder that Uncle Wes had chosen a slot machine over me… overusmade my stomach churn.
My chest ached with every step. I kept thinking about the money, about the busted blender I’d shoved it behind, about how easily he’d found it, and how stupid I was to believe hiding it would fix anything. I thought about all the jobs I’d applied for, how every email had been some polite version of “not you.”Felix had seen to that. He’d made it his mission to essentially fuck me over until he saw fit.
And Blaine. God, even him. Especially him. I couldn’t think of the money or the security he’d given me. Not since I’d left. Not because I didn’t need it. Because I did. Because I needed it morethan anything, and I hated myself for needing him the way I hated myself for still loving my uncle.
Now, everything in me felt used up, worthless, as if all I had left to offer the world was exhaustion and helplessness. It was the reality of it all. I couldn’t help him because I couldn’t even help myself.
I rounded the corner to my street, head bowed, so it took me a second to notice the figure leaning against the sleek black car parked in front of my building. My steps faltered as my heart skipped a beat or three.
He stood with his shoulders broad and easy, hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored slacks like he owned the whole block. The streetlight caught on the sharp cut of his jaw, the glint of his expensive watch, and the disheveled button-down with his messily rolled-up sleeves.
Blaine.
My heart stuttered again, then picked up fast enough to hurt. “What are you doing here?” My voice was thin, almost breaking, but he heard me.
He didn’t move at first. Just studied me the way he always did, gaze slow and consuming until I felt stripped bare like he could see through everything. Then, finally, his voice came low and unbothered.
“Well,” he said, tilting his head just slightly. “My PI called. Said you’d been wandering around for the last hour instead of going home. Figured I’d have him tail you while I waited.”
