Söbriety • Mötley Crüe •

34. Medical Technology

Ryan looks like a wreck when we enter her room, her eyes red and puffy from crying and her nose chapped from wiping snot away so many times. IVs travel up and down her arm, leading to what I assume is the medication the doctor was talking about.

Her eyes look at me in complete sadness, guilt hitting me again. I should've known. I should've helped.

"Is Wylie okay?" Her voice is soft and full of fear as tears start to travel down her cheeks again.

"Yes, baby. Wylie is okay, and so are you." I sit on the bed next to her and grab her hand, bringing it up to my lips.

She coughs out a sob, practically hyperventilating through tears and she stares at the wall to try to gather herself back together.

"Come here, it's okay, baby." I lay back onto the bed and wrap my arms around her carefully, bringing her head to my chest.

"I thought we were gonna lose it." Her voice is muffled by her sobs and the pressure of my chest as she practically digs her face into my shirt to hide from her feelings.

"We didn't, Ry. And we're not going to."

"You know you're too much of a tough bitch to not have a tough baby, too." She laughs at Sharise's comment, removing her head from my chest when Sharise kisses the top of her head.

"Can you stop falling out on me, though? I'm getting tired of rushing you to the hospital and wondering if I'm gonna have to live without you."

"You won't have to live without me unless you want to live without me." Her eyes bore into mine in anticipation, waiting to see if my answer will confirm that we're okay again.

"I never want to live without you." I place my finger under her chin and push my lips onto hers, trying to tell her how much I need her with my actions instead of words.

"I'm gonna go, Vince is prolly shitting a brick at home wondering what happened. Call me when you get home, okay? I don't care what time it is." Sharise pulls us out of our kiss, giving a small wave as she walks out the door.

"I'm so sorry, Nik. For ruining your party, for everything."

"No. I'm sorry. I was a dick, just because you don't want to come on tour and I had no right to be a dick."

A war begins in my mind on if I should ask her about the letters I found. I need to know why she kept them.

"I said awful things that I didn't mean. You're my guy, you're the only one I want. You and Wylie are all I want in this world, and as long as I have y'all then I have everything I need." She looks into my eyes as she speaks, meaning every word she says.

"I didn't mean the things I said either. I don't want you to go anywhere. I always want you to be mine."

I'll ask a different time.

Ryan's POV

No sugar, less carbs, because apparently carbs turn into sugar, and no fatty processed foods. I can't even have fruit, because apparently fruits are loaded with sugar even though I've been tricked into thinking they're healthy my whole life.

My life is over.

I flinch when I prick the needle into my skin and stick the strip with my blood on it into a chunky machine that beeps after thirty seconds, reading my blood sugar level on the tiny screen. The thing looks like a cross between a credit card reader and a calculator, but apparently I got diabetes at a great time of medical advances. We spent enough money on it to know it should be the best out there.

"I want this one." Nikki points at the magazine with a picture of the chunky machine. "It says it's the best out there. She deserves the best."

My fingers feel like push pins all day every day.