He was on his side, his face pressed into the floor. His left arm was bare and stretched out beside him with a thin white strip of plastic tied tightly, just above the elbow, causing the vein to be exposed.

I knew exactly what Maxx had been doing. Anyone who had ever watched HBO or a bad health video in high school would be able to figure it out. I patted around on the ground next to Maxx’s limp body until I found the empty syringe.

I sprang into action. I immediately loosened the plastic around his arm and threw it on the floor. Then I leaned in close to make sure he was still breathing. His breaths were slow and shallow, and when I felt his pulse it was thready. I wasn’t sure how much he had taken.

I knew that a heroin overdose could involve depressed respiratory functioning. If a person took enough, eventually their lungs stopped working, and they’d suffocate.

“What the hell, Maxx?” I asked, knowing he was way past answering. I tried lifting him up, but he was too heavy to move. I rolled him over so he lay flat on his back.

He didn’t make a sound. I laid my ear against his chest, listening to the strained beat of his heart. My tears soaked his shirt, and I turned and buried my face in the fabric, screaming to a man who couldn’t hear me.

The door of the bathroom swung open, and a few guys came in. They noticed me on the floor with Maxx and chuckled.

“Sorry to interrupt,” they said, turning to the urinals and taking a piss, unconcerned. They didn’t see what was really going on. The sight was most likely not unusual at a place like Compulsion.

When the men left, I tried to get Maxx to wake up. I yelled in his ear. I smacked his face. I shook him hard enough to bang his head against the floor. Nothing worked. He wouldn’t wake up. And when his breath started to rattle in his chest and his lips began to tinge blue, I knew I needed to get him to a hospital.

I hurried to the door of the restroom and locked it, not wanting anyone to come in. I got out my phone and dialed 911.

And then I watched Maxx’s breathing slow down until his chest wasn’t moving at all.

Chapter thirty

aubrey

i had given Maxx CPR while I waited for the paramedics. His skin had grown cold as I pounded away at his chest. I breathed into his mouth, wishing he would start breathing on his own.

He would for a little while, then he would stop, and I’d start CPR all over again.

The EMTs showed up with the police, who promptly shut the club down. I heard screaming and yelling, but I was too busy trying to keep Maxx alive.

I was exhausted by the time the paramedics rushed into the bathroom and took over resuscitation. One of the EMTs asked if I wanted to ride with Maxx in the ambulance to the hospital, but I said I’d go in my own car.

And I did. I went and waited in the emergency room. I waited until Landon and David showed up and were ushered into the back, neither realizing I was there.

I waited after the doors to the triage unit swung open and the shrill code blue wailed out into the ER. And I knew fear. I knew terror. I knew what it meant to feel your heart die.

I continued to wait while Maxx’s life hung in the balance.

I watched Maxx’s uncle leave the hospital hours later with Landon, who was sobbing. And I thought that was it. Maxx was gone.

Not able to sit there a moment longer, I asked the nurse about Maxx. When she asked who I was, I lied and said I was his sister.

The nurse eyed me skeptically but didn’t call me out on my obviously false story. She clicked away at the computer before giving me the information I wanted.

“He’s listed as in critical condition. But he’s stable. They’re beginning the detox process,” she explained.

“Do you want to go back and see him?” she asked me.

I stepped away from the counter.

“No,” I said, turning around and leaving the ER.

I drove home. When I got there, Renee was waiting up for me.

And she wasn’t alone.

“We’ve got company,” Renee said, giving Brooks a fierce look.

Brooks got to his feet. “Hey,” was all he said, and I lost it.

I just flipping lost it.

I rushed him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head in his crisp, clean shirt, and sobbed.

Brooks stiffened the second I touched him, but as I started to shudder, my body going into spasms with the force of my cries, he slowly held me more firmly, his hand rubbing my back soothingly.

“What’s wrong, Aubrey? What happened?” he asked over and over, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say a word.

Renee joined us, and my two best friends held me while I fell apart.

When I was finished crying for Maxx, for myself, for the us that would never be, I fell into bed and slept. Thinking about what could have happened to Maxx if I hadn’t gotten there in time was a pain I couldn’t handle.

I went to the hospital the next day and again claimed to be Maxx’s sister. The nurse on duty didn’t question me, and it was hard not to silently criticize their lack of security.

I was told to head down the hall and that Maxx’s room number was 302. I followed the directions and found myself standing out in the hallway, unable to make myself go inside.

Maxx was sleeping; there were tubes and monitors everywhere. He was as white as a sheet, his blond curls lank and lifeless. Slowly I walked inside and sat down beside his bed.

I didn’t take his hand. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the man I loved with all my heart. He had been so willing to throw away what we had. And for what? This?

A nurse came bustling in, giving me a distracted smile. She checked the monitors and his IV.