Page 118 of Imperfect Player

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I need help, Everly. More help than you can give me.”

She’s the only person on the planet I would admit that to. The only person that I would get that help for. I want to do it because I want her. I want to be worthy of her. I want to be the man she deserves. Not the mess that she fell in love with.

“We’ll get it for you. I’ve found some great facilities.”

Of course she had. Standing by my side was one thing. Waiting until I fell over the edge to help me back up . . . that is Everly. It’s who she is. What she does. It’s why I love her so much.

It’s why I need to do this—alone.

Only I know she’ll never let me. Not unless I push her past her limits. If only the fuck I knew what they were.

Chapter 35

Everly

Sirens are blaring as I hold onto Ethan for dear life.

Bottles scattered around the room; I couldn’t even begin to guess how much he drank beyond the obvious too much.

All I know is that when I showed up hours ago, he stopped. He quit drinking and instead held onto me. He cried, told me what a mess he was. We promised to work through it—together.

Only now, I can’t seem to wake him.

“Wake up, Ethan,” I plead with him, my voice loud in his ear.

Nothing.

There’s a pulse. A heartbeat. He’s breathing. He’s alive.

My heart aches as it questions, but for how long?

“Damnit, Ethan, wake up.”

I hold him, shaking him, begging him to stay with me.

This isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.

He was going to get help. We picked out a place. A nice place. He wanted it.

Rock bottom, E. He has to hit rock bottom.

Hadn’t he already, though? Why this?

“Paramedics,” a voice beyond the door shouts.

“Come in, it’s open.”

I don’t even recall shutting the door. The sight of Ethan’s lifeless body on the floor instantly instilled fear in me. My hand instinctively grabbed for my phone and dialed 9-1-1. Then I ran to him, knelt at his side, and begged him to wake up.

Paramedics rush in, followed by police.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to move,” one of the men says.

I do, but not far. What if he wakes up? What if he doesn’t see me? Would he fear that I too had left him like all the others? Like his parents?

No. I need to stay close. I need him to know that I'm there—through thick and thin, good and bad.

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