“Me too. I would’ve hated for something bad to happen to him.” Van kisses my temple and takes the opportunity to excuse himself so we can handle this as a family. I need to have this conversation with my parents. There’s no more sweeping it under the rug, pretending everything is okay.

I walk Van to the door. He pulls me in for a brief hug and whispers, “Are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want.”

“I’ll be fine. I appreciate the offer, though.”

He nods once and presses his lips briefly to mine. “I’m still sorry about the way I acted earlier. I’ll be waiting for you if you need me later.”

As soon as the door clicks shut, I turn back to my mom. “Billy could have drowned if Van hadn’t been there to help him.”

She wrings her hands and smiles stiffly. “Billy said he fell off the edge of the dock.”

“That might be what he said, but that’s not what happened.” I fill her in on Van’s version of events.

Mom sinks into a chair, fingers at her lips. “Oh, that’s really not good.”

I fill a mug with hot chocolate and place it in front of her, then take the seat across from her. “It’s really not. He needs help, Mom. There’s more going on than any of us realized.”

“He’s supposed to see the doctor tomorrow to have his ankle checked.”

“He needs to see a doctor for more than his ankle,” I say gently.

“Dillion is right,” Dad says from the living room doorway. “Billy needs help.”

The next morning, we take Billy to the doctor and have his ankle looked at after the impromptu dip in the lake. His cast is beat up as a result and definitely needs replacing, since it’s cracked in a couple of places. He’ll also need x-rays to determine whether he’s done additional damage.

It’s almost a relief when he has a fit against the doctor, being belligerent and paranoid, finally showing them the hurt they can’t see. He’s certain it’s all a scam and that the doctors are in on it, and they’re going to bug his cast and then they’ll be able to track him wherever he goes. It gets to the point where he’s so worked up they have to sedate him.

It’s painful to witness, and my mom is beside herself, tears tracking down her cheeks. She dabs at them with a tissue while my dad wraps an arm around her shoulders. I fight my own tears, wanting to stay strong, but it’s hard. I can’t begin to imagine how they feel about this. For me it’s been building for a long while, and I have guilt over thinking it was Billy being irresponsible when so much more was happening in his head. Even worse is that he didn’t feel like he could tell any of us what was going on. No one should ever be that lonely.

But he’s here now, and as hard as it is to watch him rail and break down, I know that we’re doing the right thing, even if it hurts. I don’t want him to suffer any more than he already has, and mental health isn’t something you can put a Band-Aid on. In a small town, it’s even more difficult, because everyone knows your business.

The doctor takes us into her office and brings along a hospital psychologist. Dr. Saleh is new to the hospital, but she has that gentle way about her that puts you right at ease. Her warm smile and soft demeanor are exactly what my parents and I need. And the reassurance that we’re making the right decision. “With Billy’s consent, we think it would be best to admit him, so we can perform a full psychiatric assessment. There’s a possibility that he’s reacting negatively to the medication, but based on what you’re reporting, it could be more than that.”

Mom chews on her fingernails, and Dad looks absolutely crushed.

“Do you think he’ll agree? How long would he have to stay?” Mom asks.

“It could be a few days, or as long as a few weeks. It depends on how Billy responds to treatment. My concern is that the longer we leave this, the worse it will get.”

My mom turns to my dad. “Whatever he needs?”

He squeezes her hand and gives her a soft smile. “We have to do whatever is best for him.”

They both turn to me, and my dad asks, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

My heart breaks for them. They’ve always been such great parents, but this is a truth they didn’t want to see, or were too afraid to. So I do the only thing I can, because I realize that they’re paralyzed and can’t make the decision on their own. “This is the best thing we can do for Billy and for our family. Let the doctors help him.”

It’s late afternoon by the time we get home. My parents are exhausted, and I keep reassuring Mom that this is the best thing we can do for Billy. I hope I’m right.

The moment I enter the trailer, I hear Van tromping through the brush. I meet him at the door. I didn’t end up going to his place last night, the conversation with my parents having gone on until the wee hours of the morning.

He’s dressed in a pair of navy sweats that have seen better days and an old T-shirt, but he still looks fantastic. “Hey.” I step right into him, and he folds me into a warm embrace.

“Hey, yourself.” He lets me hold on to him for a few long, comforting seconds before he kisses my cheek and pulls back. “How is Billy? How are you? I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“He’s okay. Or he will be, I hope.”

“That’s good. Do you want to talk about it at all? Maybe you want to come back to my place? I can make up for being a jerk yesterday.”

I give him a small smile. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good. Just let me grab a couple of things?”

“Of course.” Van waits at the door while I shove pajamas and my toothbrush into an overnight bag. Once I have my things, I shoulder the bag, close the door to my trailer, and follow him down the path back to his place. I realize I’ve started to look at it not as Bee’s anymore, but as his.

As soon as we’re through the narrow path, he links our fingers together. “You okay?”

I realize I didn’t answer that question before, too fixated on Billy and what he’s going through. “I think so. I’ve known for a while that things with Billy weren’t okay, but seeing him break down today made me aware of how hard this whole thing has been on him. He’s always had ups and downs, but this is more than that. I hate that he’s been going through this alone this whole time.” As we step inside the cottage, I tell him about the episode Billy had at the hospital and that they admitted him.

“How did your parents handle that?” He takes my bag, sets it on the kitchen counter, and pulls me over to the couch I’ve sat on a million times before. Being in here feels different now. Bee’s was always a haven, but this is so much more than that.

“Better than I expected. I thought my mom would put up a fight, since they’ve been doing a lot of brushing things off, but I realized they didn’t know what to do. No one wants their kid to go through what Billy is. There’s guilt attached to it, like it’s somehow their fault that he’s like this, and I guess genetically there’s probably a link, but it’s not as though they have control over it. They needed someone to say this was a good idea and that it needed to happen so they could feel okay about it, and that person had to be me.”