Taming the Storm

I close my eyes on the pain crushing my insides.

Exactly how my mother died.

A tear runs down my cheek, and I brush it away.

“Dexter is going to need a lot of help and support. Because of the nature of what’s happened, I had to contact the psychiatric department. A counselor will be here in a few hours to evaluate Dexter and see if he is a danger to himself. Even though Dexter seems to be doing okay at the moment, it’s standard protocol.”

“I understand.” I give a brisk nod.

We start walking again until Dr. Lowe stops outside a door.

“This will have to be a quick visit,” Dr. Lowe tells me.

“Okay.”

Heart pumping, I press down on the handle. I step inside the low-lit room. Immediately, I see Dex laying on the bed, his face turned away from me. A machine attached to him is beeping. A drip is running in his arm.

Unsure if he’s sleeping, I take a quiet step closer.

“Dex,” I speak softly.

Slowly, his head turns, eyes meeting mine.

His eyes are dark, sunken. His skin sallow. He looks a shadow of his former self.

Seeing him like this—my big brother—my eyes fill with tears. I bite my lip to stop it from trembling.

“You’re here,” he says, his voice rough.

“I’m here.” I take a small step closer. Part of me wants to be close to him, and the other part of me holds back.

He looks away from me. “I’m sorry you had to come here,” he rasps out, his tone emotionless.

“Stop it.” My voice is sharp, but I can’t help it. So many emotions are roiling inside of me, and it’s hard to control them.

Dex’s eyes slowly come back to mine.

I walk up to the end of the bed, curling my fingers around the metal frame. “Why?” It feels like the hardest question in the world to ask, but the most important.

I need to understand why he did this.

He lets out a sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

His stops rubbing at his face, and he brings his eyes to mine.

I see it all in there—the pain, the loss.

“I just wanted it all to stop,” he says in a whisper.

“You wanted what to stop?”

He exhales softly. “The regret. The guilt. The loneliness. The silence eating me alive. I made the biggest mistake of my life. I hurt and lost the most important person to me, all for someone who didn’t matter when it came down to it.”

“What happened…with you and Chad?” I’ve never asked him this question. Truth be told, I never wanted to know because him being with Chad, or not, wouldn’t have changed anything for me.

“It didn’t continue past that night.”

I take a deep breath, processing that information. “Why?”

“How could it?” He shakes his head, regret swimming in his eyes. “The fact is, I love you more than I would ever love him.”

“But that didn’t stop you from screwing him—” I cut off, knowing this isn’t the time. My breath is coming in heavy. I can feel myself starting to panic.

My fingers slip from the bed frame. I’m ready to leave, and Dex knows it.

“Ly, don’t go, please.”

The panic in his eyes and voice makes me stay. I hold on to the metal frame again, needing it for balance.

“I wish I could give you a reason why I did what I did,” he says in a low voice. “The only one I have is…I was weak. Chad pursued me, and I couldn’t seem to say no. Every time it happened, I would tell myself that time was the last, and I wasn’t going to let it happen again. Then, I would find myself right back in that same situation with him.” His eyes meet mine. “I was in love with him…or I thought I was. I want you to know that I didn’t have an affair with him as some sort of challenge.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “Whatever it was I felt for Chad though…in the end, it didn’t matter.”

“Why did you move to LA?”

“To be closer to you. I thought if I was closer to you, I might stand a chance at repairing what I’d done. I couldn’t do that when you were on the other side of the country. Then, I got here and found out that you were going on tour for six weeks. I have the worst timing ever.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “But I stayed, knowing you’d be back. I thought if I could just get to see you, talk to you, then it’d be okay…we’d be okay. I just needed to get you to listen to me. If that happened, then, I thought everything would be okay.

“Then, I finally got my chance in San Diego, and after what happened that night…it truly hit me that I’d lost you for good. There was no going back. In that moment, it was worse than thinking you were dead. You were still living your life, but I just couldn’t be a part of it, and it was my own doing. The best part of my life was us. You and me. And Cale and Sonny. The band.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess…things just spiraled after that night. The depression got worse. I wasn’t turning up for practice. I was drinking more, getting high. The guys in my band were getting pissed off with me. Then, I missed an important gig because I’d was out partying, and the next day they pulled me in and told me I was out.

“So, I didn’t have you, and then I had no band. I just felt lost…angry at myself, and I wanted to stop hurting. I took some of my pills, knowing they’d dull the pain. I washed them down with vodka. I guess I took too many.”