“She is?” Hope tinges my voice. She must be feeling better. I knew she’d come around.
“Colton?” By the way Haddie says my name, I know: Rylee isn’t better at all. In fact, it reinforces what I have to do even more.
“I’m calling the doctor in the morning.” I answer the unspoken question she left hanging out there, bring the beer to my lips, and take a long pull on it. And I hate myself for saying it because now I’ve put it out there, I have to admit there is something wrong with Rylee.
And I don’t want there to be something wrong with her.
“At first I was pissed at you, at her . . . You didn’t tell me and I’m her bestie. I should know this. But I get it. I understand how proud Ry is. How she thinks she can handle everything and if she admits she can’t then it makes it even worse. But, Colton, this is about her getting better. Not about her being weak.” She leans her head on my shoulder and sighs.
I shake my head. Emotions fucked. Head more so. “I thought that dealing with Eddie today would help. I could come back and tell her he won’t bother us anymore. Maybe knowing that worry was gone might be what she needed to help her break through . . .” I stop when I realize how fucking stupid that sounds.
“It might help some,” Haddie says softly, “but it’s not going to fix her. We’re back to Matchbox Twenty on repeat again but there’s no music this time. In fact, there’s no sound at all. She needs help, Colton.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “I know, Had. I know.”
“She tried to keep it together for a while but I know her well enough to know better,” she says as I stand up.
“Thank you . . . for everything.” Our hug is brief, my need to see Ry ruling my thoughts.
“Always,” Haddie says as I open the door and walk into my house.
I hear voices, my hopes rising to be dashed once again when I see Shane on the couch talking to Ace. And fuck, for some reason seeing Ace hits me hard, validates the reasons why I walked away from Eddie.
My end all, be all.
Shane looks up when he notices me. “Hey,” he says as he stands immediately, eyes locked on mine. I know a threat when I see one but for the fucking life of me can’t figure out why Shane’s the one giving it to me.
“What’s wrong, Shane?” I ask, mind spinning as he hands Ace off to Haddie without letting me see him first.
“Can we talk?”
And if he wasn’t so dead serious, I might laugh at the sudden growl to his voice and stiffening of his spine. “Sure,” I say as I fire a look at Haddie and get a shrug in response. “Why don’t we head into the office?”
I lead the way, let him walk in first, and then shut the door. We take seats on opposite sides of the desk, and this time when he looks at me I see so much more than the threat from a moment ago. I see a scared kid trying to be a brave man and I’m not sure of the footwork of how to go about this.
Well, I’m scared too. For different reasons. But scared nonetheless.
“What’d you want to talk about, Shane?”
He shifts in his seat, fidgets his hands, and before he even speaks, I can see we need to spend some more time together so I can help him look controlled when he’s not feeling it. That’s a must for a man and I’ve dropped the ball in teaching him that.
“You’re supposed to be the one who takes care of her,” he accuses with more certainty than his eyes reflect, suddenly nervous now that he’s actually standing his ground. “I mean, you can see something’s wrong with her, right?”
I bite back the flippant comment I’d normally give—how I sure as shit know how to take care of my fucking wife. The exhaustion and the shit with Eddie make it so goddamn tempting, but I’m able to find my restraint. To realize this is Shane in front of me trying to make sure Ry’s okay.
I lean back in the chair and roll my shoulders, put myself in his shoes. “She’s having a tough go of it, isn’t she?” I meet his gaze. I don’t shy away from it, because I want him to see I understand Rylee needs help.
“If you’re not going to get her a doctor, then I will,” he states, voice resolute but then throws me for a fucking loop when his eyes well up with tears before he quickly looks down.
“I’m calling one tomorrow. She asked me for time to try and get through it,” I explain with more patience than I feel. But it’s one of her boys, a part of her family. “But she’s not getting any better so I’m going to get her some help. She’s going to be okay, Shane.”
“Don’t say that,” he says between clenched teeth. He squeezes his eyes closed and his face transforms. “That’s what they said about my mom. And look what happened to her.” His voice breaks as he delivers the words.
Fuck. How could I have not seen this coming? How could I have not realized Shane would compare Rylee’s postpartum depression to his mother’s depression? The illness that caused her to take her own life in an overdose of pills. Or the fact he is the one who found her and is forever scarred by the memory.
“Look at me, Shane.” I pause, waiting for him to lift his head and meet my eyes. The courageous man who walked in here is gone. The broken boy who lost his world when his mom died has replaced him. I scramble to fix it. Him. Use words that won’t do shit but will sound like it. “She will get better.” And I’m not sure if the strong resolve in my voice is to convince him or me. “I am going to have a doctor see her tomorrow. It might take some time, but we’ll get our Rylee back, okay?”