EMILY
WHAT I'VE SAID HAS TAKEN Garrett off-guard.
So much so that he actually sits down on the bed, a deeply troubled look on his handsome face. "Well, fuck."
He takes a few moments to think things through. Then he frowns. Looks up at me. "What do you mean, for your mental health?"
"Ever since he decided he's going to quit school and go on tour with this band, Patrick's turned back into the worst version of himself. Toxic to himself. To me."
All at once, Garrett is on high alert. "Toxic to you, how?"
"It's not important. What matters is —" "Emily." Garrett reaches out and tugs me over so I'm standing between his knees. He's so tall that this is the only way we can be at eye level.
"What did he do to you between the time I left you in bed this morning, and when you sent me that text?"
My first instinct is to bottle it all in. To push down the negativity and the drama and the possibility of confrontation.
