Minutes go by.
Willy Wonka: Had to train. But I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Promise.
Desperate, I opt for a bait as old as time. The sex bait.
Kass: You sure you can’t spare me a second tonight? My mom is out cold and I’m horny.
The reply is instant.
Willy Wonka: Yeah? What are you wearing right now?
Hook, line, and sinker.
Kass: Nothing. Just got out of the shower.
Willy Wonka: Fuck. Don’t tell me that.
Willy Wonka: If you give me a boner during training, Alex will never let me hear the end of it.
Kass: So, you’re still at training?
Ten minutes go by.
Willy Wonka: Yeah.
His lie slices right through me. I don’t reply, holding my phone tightly against my chest and climbing out of my car.
That’s it. I’m going in. I creep toward room thirty-five stealthily and come to a stop near the door, preparing to knock. Seconds before my fist meets wood, I change my mind, settling for the handle.
This place is too cheap for electronic key cards. It’s a regular knob, and I’d rather not give Will time to clean up and hide whoever’s in there.
It’s unlocked.
Time for the truth.
Slowly, I twist the door open, careful not to make a sound as I ghost inside the empty motel room.
No sign of a girl.
No sign of Will either.
On the other side of the door is a double bed pushed up against the left wall. The bed is undone, messy. All over the nightstand is Will’s stuff: his phone, his keys. He even has a phone charger plugged in. He’s not just passing through.
But what sets my thoughts onto a self-destructive course is the suitcase sitting at the foot of his bed.
Wait.
Does he… live here?
I’ve barely had time to let my discovery sink in when the most unexpected sound slashes through the air.
Someone puking.
And I mean puking.
My gaze darts to the closed door halfway across the room. The bathroom. Will’s in there. He’s got to be.
Is he sick?
“What the fuck did you take?”
That’s his voice.
So, he’s not the one throwing up?
He sounds distressed, panicked even.
“Why?” he jabs. “Why the fuck do you keep doing this to yourself?”
Then comes another voice.
This one female.
“I know, I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll stop, I promi—”
More vomiting. Unable to make sense of the events unraveling before me, I tumble back a step. I convince myself it can’t possibly get any worse until a scream reaches my ear.
That’s when my heart crumbles into a million pieces.
Because the panic in Will’s voice…
I’ve never heard it before.
“Mom! Mom! Fuck!”
Mom.
Motion.
Noises.
The shower starts.
“Mom!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. “Wake up!”
My guess is he just put her in the shower. Seconds pass. Will’s heart-wrenching pleas diffuse through the room’s thin walls. Then the puking picks up again. And I hear him sigh in relief. I can’t handle his ragged, rough breathing. He’s seconds away from a panic attack.
“I’m here, honey. I’m here,” she says in a gruff voice.
“I… I can’t.” He chokes. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Kass, you need to leave. Now!
Get the fuck out!
“No, wait, I’m sorry. Don’t leave me, William.” She vomits in between sobs.
“I can’t do this anymore.” He articulates every word as if to get it through her head. “You drained everything! Four fucking grand. Gone in a matter of days. I’m done.”
I feel like I’m going to faint when the bathroom door swings open. Will comes out, his eyes bloodshot, his features hard. He’s barely holding back tears. But when he sees me? Standing by the door? Something shifts in his eyes.
Something dies.
Like he’s just reached his limit of pain for a lifetime.
Speechless, we stand there, staring at each other. Waiting to see which one of us will speak first.
“Kass?” He blinks shock at me.
Before I know it, he’s grabbed me by the arm, leading me outside of the room. The instant the door closes, his shock is replaced by livid anger.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I’m ashamed of my actions.
“It’s Zoey, she… She sent me a picture of you leaving this place and she said you were cheating and I—”
“Hold on,” he says as though he’s certain he misheard me. “You followed me here?”
“No. Well, not exactly. Zoey gave me the address, and I showed up here an hour ago.” I wince at my own words.
He seems baffled, furious, betrayed—don’t forget betrayed. Then his eyes blaze with understanding.
“But your texts… You were here this whole time?”
My words leave me.
I really messed up.
“You were testing me,” he realizes.
Say something! Fix this!
“Yes, I was, but only because I thought you were keeping things from me. Like your mom. You said she was okay. She’s not oka—”
“Don’t talk about her!” he snarls. “I can’t believe it. Do you… Do you even realize what you did? You followed me, spied on me! For fuck’s sake, Kass. Who do you think I am? Your puppet?”
Regret surges inside me.
“It’s not like that, I swear. It’s just… you’re always so closed off. You won’t tell me anything about your life.” The more I try to patch this up, the quicker he slips through my fingers.
I step forward, grasping his face between my hands. “I’m sorry, I messed up.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, fuming, and exhales a deep, self-soothing breath. Helplessness, fear—just two of the many things I’m feeling when I push to my tiptoes and sling my arms around his neck, hugging him with all I have. Not to sway his forgiveness, but because I feel so awful for what he’s had to go through tonight. I need this.
I need to be there for him.
He doesn’t reject me, which is a good sign, but he also doesn’t reciprocate the hug. I don’t care—I’m not letting go.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, holding on tighter.
Something tells me he knows I’m not apologizing for my mistakes. I’m apologizing for life putting him through this hell. How long has his mother been an addict? Since his father took everything and ran? Has he been dealing with this his whole life?
Every single part of me relaxes when he returns my embrace, his arms circling
