“You didn’t turn out so bad yourself, ya know,” I say, poking him in the side. “Your father sounds like a real asshole, and if I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that you’re one of the most genuine and caring people I know. If you don’t want to follow in his footsteps, you shouldn’t. Write your own story, Alex. Make your own path.”
The room falls silent as we both let our truths sink in.
It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve told someone the situation I came from. It makes me proud to show the person that I am. I survived the storm. I’m stronger than it. Fierce. Driven. Nothing is going to stop me.
Hell, in a way, I am the storm.
Powerful enough to take on any challenge thrown my way. Because I don’t back down. Not in life. Not at work. Never.
The hardest part about sharing your truth with someone is saying it out loud. Accepting that once it’s out there, they may never look at you the same way again. I could have lost Alex by divulging my past, but instead, I feel ten times closer to him.
Closing my eyes, I snuggle in closer, wrapping my arms around his waist. The heaviness of the day is weighing on me. Clearly, it has exhausted Alex. He’s currently snoring lightly next to me, still sitting up against the headboard.
Not wanting to wake him, I wait a few minutes before moving. When I try to wiggle out of his arms, he pulls me closer, sliding down onto the pillows and fitting my body against his.
So this is what heaven feels like, I think to myself as I close my eyes again. I know I’m going to fall asleep. I know this is a bad idea. Still, I can’t will myself to leave because if I’m being honest with myself, the truth is, I’m exactly where I want to be tonight.
21
Alex
* * *
She’s still in my arms when I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating on the table next to the bed. I reset my alarm when I woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water, wanting to be able to spend as much time with her in bed this morning as possible.
When I realize the vibration is not my alarm and it’s a little after seven I’m startled. The alarm should have gone off by now. Almost an hour ago. Not to mention, no one ever calls me.
It’s a blessing in disguise considering its Monday morning. Harley has to get to work, and I need to start hunting for a job today. After I figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Because I have no idea. There are plenty of opportunities to use my degree, but is it what I want? Is there something else I’d like to do?
Look what Harley did with her life. She turned a shitty situation into one where she now helps people with the same problems she grew up dealing with. Vivian’s comment about how Harley is able to connect with younger patients makes more sense now. She was dealing with the same issues when she was their age.
Only she wasn’t the addict.
God, I feel horrible for her. I’ll never tell her that. She wouldn’t want my pity any more than I want hers. She’s stronger than that. A rock star to me. And she had to deal with all that while raising Phoenix? I can’t even begin to imagine how much harder that made her situation.
It explains why she got pregnant so young. She was probably seeking attention and love, and found it from Phoenix’s father. I can’t imagine her mother showed her much affection if she was always high.
Fuck!
It makes me furious for her. It makes me want to find her mother and smack some sense into her. Of course, I can’t do that, and I wouldn’t. From the sounds of it, Harley’s past is just that. Her past. She more than likely wants to keep it there. Which is probably why I’d never heard her mention her mother much before last night. Who would want to talk about someone like that? Growing up like that?
“Are you going to turn that off?” I hear Harley grumble.
“Not if you want to be on time for work,” I remark, propping my head up in my hand so I can see her better.
Even in her half-asleep state, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her long, dark locks are splayed across her face, having come free from the confines of her ponytail holder in the night. They’re covering those luscious lips I can’t wait to taste again so I brush them away, tucking the strands behind her ear.
“I think I should call in sick and sleep all day,” she whines, hugging the pillow tighter.
I woke up a few hours ago to Harley shivering next to me. It took a lot of effort in my half-sleep state to maneuver her under the covers, but once I did, her shivering stopped. She came willingly into my arms, tucking herself under my chin, never waking up in the process. I wanted to stay awake. To watch her sleep, even if only for a few minutes, but I was so tired my body betrayed me.
“I like the sound of that, but you know you’re not going to. Time to get up, beautiful. Phoenix will be wondering where you are soon.”
At the mention of Phoenix’s name, Harley’s eyes pop open, and she jolts upright, almost cracking our heads together as she practically jumps out of bed.
“What time is it?” Her voice is panicked as she frantically looks around my apartment in search of an escape. She knows where the door is. Her shoes are at her feet where she took them off before we crawled in bed last night to talk.
She can leave whenever she wants. She knows this. I’m not holding her hostage.
“Calm down, it’s only a little after seven o’clock. He’s probably still asleep.”
My phone begins vibrating again before she can reply. Reaching for it, my heart drops when I see the number on the screen.
The rehab center is calling.
“Who is it?” Harley asks. When I look up, there’s concern etched across her face.
“The center.”
“It has to be Vivian. She’s the only one that would be calling this early. You better answer it.”
Sliding my finger across the screen, I’m about to ask her if she wants me to put it on speaker when I hear my front door close. She’s left me to take the call in private.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Neil. It’s Vivian from Triumph Rehab Center of San Diego.” From the sound of her voice, I can immediately tell something is wrong. “I wish I were calling under better circumstances—”
“What happened to Daphne?” I ask, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Is she okay?”
“Your sister is perfectly fine. She’s gotten herself in a bit of trouble, but she’s safe. I was hoping you could come down this morning so we can discuss a few things.”
Her invitation feels like I’m being called to the principal’s office. The way she emphasizes the word discuss has the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.
Am I in trouble?
What did I do?
Keeping my voice free of emotion, I agree to meet with Vivian just before lunchtime. I rush over to Harley’s apartment as soon as I hang up, where Phoenix answers the door and steps aside, inviting me in without saying a word.
“Vivian wants to meet with me,” I state as Harley pours herself a cup of coffee. Reaching into the cupboard, she then pulls out another mug before filling it to the brim and handing it to me.
“I know. I had a voicemail.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know the whole situation yet. I’m meeting with Viv as soon as I get to work. I should know more then.” Her voice is flat, free of all emotion. This is her professional side. The counselor in her talking to the patient’s family. Right now, there is no us.
“Can you tell me anything?” I’m pleading with her for information.
I’m aware we’ve agreed not to discuss Daphne. To separate ourselves from her work. Still, I can’t help myself. I need to know what’s going on. I don’t want to walk into my meeting blind.
“Your sister was caught with a phone.”
Damn it.
“We don’t know where she got it or from who,” Harley continues. “She refuses to tell anyone who she called. My guess is Vivian is hoping you can
help get information out of her.”
“How much trouble is she in? Overall? I mean, is she starting over? Getting kicked out? Can she continue with the program as planned?”
Answers. I need answers. To know if there is anything I can do if Daphne is being kicked out. I’m a planner. I don’t do well with on-the-fly decisions.
Setting her mug on the counter, Harley lets out a sigh before responding. “I don’t know yet. This is something we handle on a case-by-case basis. If she cooperates, she’ll be fine. If she refuses, we’ll have to consider other options for her. We never seek to kick a patient out. We are here to help them, but they have to let us. She’s suddenly pushing back, Alex. She doesn’t want to get the help she needs because she still can’t see she needs it. Or, more accurately, she can’t accept it.”
I’m going to kill her. She did this on purpose. To punish me. To punish Harley. She let us think she was making progress. That she was doing better. I’m beginning to wonder if she really is.
Checking the time on her phone, Harley apologizes and leaves for work. I’m left standing in her kitchen, holding an untouched mug of steaming coffee, wondering what happens next.
You can’t help someone who refuses to accept your help. It’s as if Daphne is doing everything she can to refuse the help I’m trying to get her. But why? Why wouldn’t she want to get better?
It can’t be the drugs. Those are long gone. They’ve been out of her system for almost two months. She can’t be craving them, and even if she was, she’d be showing signs.
This can’t be just about her phone. Who does she even need to call? I guarantee she’s too proud to tell her friends where she is. They all probably think we’re on an extended vacation. We’ve gone away for months before. This isn’t any different.
Six weeks in the Bahamas after I graduated high school. A month in Mexico when my parents celebrated their twentieth anniversary.
Shaking away the memories, I set the mug on the counter, apologize to Phoenix that I’ll be gone most of the day, and then head across the hall to get myself cleaned up for my meeting with Vivian.
More than anything, I need a moment to think things over. To evaluate all the possibilities. To prepare for the worst in case that’s what’s about to happen.
“Mr. Neil,” Vivian says as she greets me. “It’s good to see you.”
“Nice to see you as well.”
It’s a lie. I wish I weren’t seeing her. I wish I was still in bed with Harley wrapped in my arms. I wish I’d never fallen asleep last night so I could have spent more time with her.
Mostly, I wish my sister wasn’t a little bitch breaking the rules.
Vivian escorts me to her office. It’s not until I cross the threshold that I realize we’re not alone. Harley and Daphne are both here, waiting on us.
Giving Daph a pointed look, she smirks at me. She knows what she’s done. She’s not apologetic. She doesn’t give two shits. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got herself caught on purpose.
“Okay, now that we’re all here, let’s discuss what happened last night,” Vivian begins, closing the door behind us.
Taking the seat on the couch next to Daphne, Harley mimics my actions, sitting on the couch across from me, Vivian to her right.
“A little after ten o’clock last night, when the staff went to check on your sister, she was found in her room with a cell phone. When they tried to take it away from her, she fought them, throwing the phone at the staff member, causing it to shatter against the wall. When questioned about where the phone came from, who gave it to her, and who she called, Daphne refused to answer.
“This morning, as I was being briefed, we received a phone call from a man asking to speak with Daphne. He claimed to be her father. As we are aware of his passing, we didn’t provide the caller with any information. We received another call an hour ago from a woman claiming to be her mother. Again, we provided them with no information. In light of recent events, we’d like to give Daphne another chance to explain herself. We’re all aware that the loss of a loved one can be a traumatic event, and we want to remain understanding, but we can’t have another incident such as last night.”
The room falls silent, and all eyes fall on Daphne. She appears to be indifferent, her arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her face.
“Can I have a moment alone to speak with my sister?” I ask.
Without a word, Harley and Vivian leave the room. My eyes meet Harley’s before she pulls the door closed. Concern and sorrow shine through them mixed in with another emotion I can’t quite figure out.
“What did you do?” I whisper yell, moving closer to her.
“What do you think I did? I figured out how I can get out of here. You lose.” Her voice is laced with a mix of hatred and accomplishment.
This was all a game to her.
“You called them? Told them where you are?”
“I want to go home, Alex. You can either take me home or they’ll come get me. How do you want to play this?”
I don’t, I want to tell her. I don’t want to play this game at all. I want to rewind twenty-four hours and make sure she never gets her hands on that damn phone.
“You cheated,” I announce as if my revelation will change her mind.
“You never said I couldn’t call them. You said I couldn’t tell anyone they were alive.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Daph?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I get that you don’t want to be here, that you think you’re better. What about when you get home? Do you really think things will change? Do you think they’re going to be the loving parents you deserve? No, they won’t. They don’t know how.”
Pausing, I wait for her to argue but when she doesn’t, I lean back against the couch, crossing my arms over my chest, and stare directly into her eyes, knowing I need to see her reaction to what I say next.
“The only reason they even care where you are is because they have no control. Dad’s worried people will find out you’re in rehab and that this will scar the family name. Hurt business. Mom’s worried people at the country club will talk. The appearance of a perfect family will be ruined. Who do you think they’re going to blame? Who do you think they’ll take out their frustrations on? You, Daph. Is that what you really want? Is that worth being able to hang out with your friends?”
I let out a frustrated breath, my eyes never leaving hers as she lets what I said sink in. The truth. The honest to God truth about our parents. About their motives.
Because they don’t care about us the way they should. They care about themselves and what other people think of them, of our family. They know I took Daphne to get help. They’re angry with me for putting her in rehab. They’re angry with her for bringing shame to the family.
There’s no concern for her addiction, that it was destroying her. That she almost killed herself on a combination of pills and alcohol. They’re convinced she could have quit on her own, which tells me exactly how little they care. Because Daph would have overdosed again, and I doubt she’d have survived.
“No,” she finally admits, averting eye contact when I see tears beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes.
“Are they on their way here now?”
What I really want to ask is if I have time to fix this or if we’re already screwed. Is my father going to walk through the door and demand to see Daphne in five minutes or five days?
“No. I called Dad, but he didn’t answer, so I sent him a text.” Her confession doesn’t surprise me. My father wouldn’t answer a random phone number. Especially one that’s out of state.
“What’d it say?”
“I just told him it was me.”
“Did you tell him where you were?”
Please say no. Dear God, this is going to get fucked up if they know where she is.
“I didn’t have time,” she confesses, bowing her head in shame.
Thank god for small miracles.
“They called here, Daph. They have to know something,” I point out.
“I didn’t tell them, Alex. I swear. I didn’t have time to respond to his text. The nurses opened my door and tried to take the phone.”
“Where’d you get it?” I ask, hoping she’ll confide in me.
“From another patient. I was supposed to give it back to him. He was only letting me borrow it.”
He? The ping-pong guy I bet, not that it matters. Whoever he is, he’s not getting his phone back. They’re both out of luck being able to communicate with the outside world for now, and it needs to stay that way.
As long as my parents don’t know where she is, I shouldn’t have to worry too much. There are dozens of rehab facilities in Southern California. They might try to find her, but there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to before she’s done. Six more weeks and this is all over.
22
Harley
* * *
“Are you okay, Harley?” Vivian asks as I pass her closed office door for the fifth time in as many minutes.
I’ve been pacing the hall since Alex asked us to give them some privacy. I can’t seem to stop moving. It’s the only thing keeping my mind from running wild with possibilities.
For instance, his parents are still alive. The way he was talking last night, in the present tense, wasn’t a coincidence. That I should tell Vivian about our conversation because if I don’t, that’s withholding information and could cost me my job.
But I don’t know the truth. I can’t say for certain they are alive. This could all be a coincidence, and I don’t want to risk throwing Alex under the bus without all the facts. So I keep walking, back and forth, waiting impatiently for him to finish speaking with Daphne.
“Yeah, fine. Why?” I reply, brushing her off as I pass the door again.
Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance Page 15
