I SIGH WATCHING Carter advance out of the room and shut the door behind him. So much for being a supportive girlfriend.

My hands are secure around Sam's waist and her body is slumped against mine, almost lifeless.

"Let's go to the party. Carter's birthday party." She slurs, spit flying out of her mouth with each word.

She's still able to move somewhat, so dragging her to her bathroom isn't much of a challenge.

"We already went to the party, Sam," this is the second time I've had to remind her. "Let's get you out of these clothes before you get sick."

I lay her down on the floor and cover a towel over her body while carefully maneuvering her articles of clothing off. She can't exactly consent to me seeing her unclothed at this moment, so I want to take precaution to allow her to have a sense of privacy. I leave her alone on the floor in search of dry clothes in her closet. I grab the Star Wars t-shirt I saw her wearing the other day and a pair of dark tights.

She's knocked out when I come back, head tilting up and lips parted with loud snores. It makes it easier to put on her new clothes, but leaves me uneasy about her state of health.

I'm unable to carry her to her bed, so I call Carter and only have to wait shortly before he comes rushing in.

"Can you help me get her to her bed now?"

Carter's already started lifting her before I can even get my full request out. He carries her bridal style and I follow them through the door back to her room where he lays her down gently and pulls her blanket over her.

I perch on the edge of her mattress, wiping her hair out of her face and massaging her temple. Carter takes a step back from the bed and crosses his arms over his chest looking deep in thought.

I have a lot on my mind too and there's definitely a conversation that needs to be had right now.

"She's okay for now, let's go back to the living room," I say. I have to repeat myself three times before Carter snaps out of his trance and hears me.

He runs his hand through his hair, reluctance pulling at his clenched jaw. "Okay."

I grab his hand for support and lead us out of the room into the more spacious confines of the living room.

"Well, do you still have that list?" I ask, a surge of energy and genuine sadness making me want to be proactive.

"What list?" He leans over the kitchen counter, toying with the glass of water in his hand.

"For treatment facilities. I'm sure you've already done all the research but how about we split the centers up, do some extra research, call around for availability, and see how quick we can get her in?"

Carter shakes his head, shifting his face into confusion. "We're not doing that."

"How are we gonna go about this, then? I smelled alcohol on her breath the night Jake was taken from her, so I suspect she's probably not been sober since the custody case started. She did say it helps take the pain away."

He pulls back from the counter, facing heating up and eyes blazing with intensity I'm almost certain I've never seen before. "You smelled alcohol on her breath last week?"

Well, there's my confirmation. He's never had a clue.

"Yeah, and I was trying to figure out how to tell you, I'm sorry," I say.

Sam didn't get hurt or anything but she could've, especially trying to jump off a roof. If I'd told Carter that night instead of worrying about his reaction, we could've gotten her help earlier.

"Fuck." He looks to the ground as his nostrils flare.

"I've only known for a week. I know it's bad, but things are still salvageable. We'll get Sam in a facility and I promise you'll be okay. Maybe you might need to speak with a counselor too and if that's the case, we can look into it as well."

"Summer." He pauses carefully searching for his words the way he always does. "I need you to back off of this situation. We're not taking Sam to a facility, not yet."

A choked laugh comes out of my throat from shock. "What? Have you forgotten she's an addict who's just relapsed? And she's in the middle of a custody battle too."

"Exactly, she's in the middle of a custody battle. If she's admitted she'll lose Jake for good, there's no question about that. I have to handle this carefully, I don't need you trying to be some newfound savior." Carter no longer sounds like he usually sounds speaking to me. There's no softness, no fondness and understanding. What replaces that is a strained deep sound, full of anger, devoid of affection.

And it stings worse than a thousand hungry bees. My defensive mode is being switched on. I'm fighting it the way I'm fighting this crappy feeling, but I have little confidence I'll win.

"I'm not trying to be some savior, I'm trying to help like any regular human would want to help people they care about. Is that a crime?" I ask. "Now I really think Sam's health trumps everything else. She needs to get back on track first and foremost, once she's finished rehab, then we can worry about the fallout later."

"Well I really think you don't know what you're talking about and should honestly mind your business. I've gone through this, you haven't," he says. "I can monitor her from here on out and when her custody is reinstated, we'll look into getting her to rehab. If we try to take her now she'll fight it, but when she gets Jake back, she'll voluntarily admit herself. It's the only way things will go smoothly."

I stare back at him with disbelief. The switch has been flipped on and anger surges in me with a red-hot flame. "You don't have to be such a dick about it. I'm not the villain, I'm just voicing my opinion so we can work together to come to the best decision. You really think John won't take her back to court when he finds out she's in rehab anyways? She'll still end up in the same predicament."

"He won't find out and that's the thing, there's no we. You should've never been let in on this whole thing with Sam from the beginning. You didn't need to know her so intimately," he says with a sort of dejection that mixes my anger with the hurt from earlier.

"I'm your girlfriend, are you seriously saying there's a whole part of your life you've wanted to keep away from me? That's not how relationships work."

"Maybe that's why I've never wanted to do relationships."

Ouch. Everything we've been through these last few months, all the strides we've made to try our hand at a healthy honest relationship, seem to be unraveling.

"What are you trying to say then?"

"The same thing I've said twice already. Back off and let me handle this. You've already done enough not telling me about her drinking ." He steps towards me, lungs searching for oxygen. "I have control of the situation, I can fix this. I've been through this before, I know what to do."

"I get it. You've been loud and clear and I want you to know that I've received your message and will heed your advice." I'm desperately trying to preserve my self-esteem.

I'll support those I love and I'll help when they need it, but I won't sit around like a dumbass kissing someone's ass while they throw shit at my face and right now, Carter has a handful of feces he's ready to hurl at me.

"Why didn't you tell me when you thought she was drinking, anyways? Why shy around keeping it a secret?" His voice rises, filling the space of the apartment and I'm sure the connecting walls as well.

"Because." I raise my voice too and it cracks as I try to keep my emotions from spilling over. "I figured if I so easily smelled it on her then you must have smelled it too, and if you didn't smell it, then that means you'd be blindsided by the news. You'd be devastated, and panicked, and somehow think your sobriety would be in jeopardy too. Much like how you are now. I didn't want this, I wanted to find a way to gently tell you, let you know I'm here and it won't just be you and Sam leaning on each other. Now I know I should've just reported to officer Reyes and gone on about my day, because I know very well that you want me to mind my business."

"You should've told me." He repeats, murmuring to himself for some reason.

"You know what I think? I think you've seen the clues these last few months. You've known deep down something was off but you couldn't bring yourself to admit it. If you were doing so well, then she must be too. That's your little mind game. Only she wasn't doing well, she was suffering and now you're angry that you let it get to this point. I won't say much since this is none of my business, but you're gonna regret it if you don't get her the help she needs right away."

I can tell I've hit a nerve. He's filled with anger, that's for sure, and there's more. A sense of shame.

"You should change your major to clinical psychology since you seem to know so much about my mind and everything," he takes a cheap shot, furthering our fight.

"I know!" I yell. "And you should take up law, and social work, and AA counseling since you seem to be this worldly jack of all trades that's capable of fixing everything. Well, let me tell you something, Jack, you're in way over your head."

"I was in way over my head dating you," he says.

It stuns me quiet only for a second before my walls rise back up. "And so was I."

I hate that tears sting my eyes as they make their way down my face.I hate that I'm looking at the guy I love and he feels like a judgemental stranger once again. Most of all, I hate that I let myself get to this. I won't stand around continuing to feel like crap, so I turn around and storm out of the apartment, ignoring the way my heart hurts.

"Summer!" He calls after me and it's reminiscent of our first fight.

Just like the first time, I don't give him the chance to explain himself. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not. Tonight, I'm going back home. I've got my own shit to deal with.