Not for much longer if he pulls another stunt like this and drowns in the freaking lake.
CHAPTER 25
OH, BROTHER
Dillion
“What do you mean he’s not in his room? Where would he go? Did one of his friends pick him up? Did you try his phone?” I’m grabbing a drink with Tawny and Allie when my mother calls me, frantic because she can’t find my brother.
“He said he was going to take a shower, but that was more than an hour ago,” my mom says, her voice wavering. “I thought maybe he was planning to see friends, but we called everyone, and no one has heard from him. I called him, but he’s not picking up. Maybe he’s hanging out with someone we haven’t thought to call.”
“I’ll be home in ten.” I throw a twenty on the table and grab my purse. “I gotta go, Billy’s missing.”
Allie tries to hand me back the money. “Did one of the guys he hangs with pick him up?”
I shake my head, both to taking the money and the friend situation. “None of the guys have seen him. He said he was going to take a shower, and now they have no idea where he is.”
“Is there anywhere you want us to look?” Tawny asks.
“Maybe the beach? Although I don’t know how he’d get there unless someone is covering for him. I can’t see him getting very far with a freaking cast. I’ll call you if I find him.”
“And we’ll call you if we hear anything from anyone.”
“Thanks.” I rush out of the bar and hop into the truck, putting it in gear before I even have my seat belt fastened. I take the roads faster than I should, terrified that something has happened to my brother. He’s been home for weeks, and other than Bernie’s, he’s only gone to the beach party and the bar. Both times he got passed-out drunk. He hasn’t been seeing friends at all, come to think of it.
My heart is in my throat the entire drive home, and when I get there, both my mom and dad have their phones to their ears. I make a beeline for Billy’s room and nearly gag when I open the door. It smells like body odor, cheese, feet, and stale beer. There’s a black garbage bag beside his bed, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s most definitely the source of the stale-beer smell.
I grab a corner of his sheet and tug, pulling it free from the mattress. Underneath are a whole bunch of nudie magazines and used tissues, which is gross, but what’s more worrisome are the books on spy theory. Billy has always been fascinated by conspiracy theories, but lately he’s been more paranoid than I remember him ever being before. I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it than just the books he’s reading.
I scan his room and finally find his phone, lying on the floor, half under his bed. I pick it up and hit the screen. He has a ridiculous number of missed calls and messages, many of them from the friends we’ve tried to call tonight.
I punch in the number one four times in a row and smile briefly at his predictability before I start scanning the most recent messages. The more I see, the more worried I become, because that paranoia that I’ve noticed is in full effect in his messages with his friends. And they’ve been reaching out while he’s been staying quiet, saying he can’t message because everyone is watching him.
A knock at the front door has me dropping the phone on the bed and rushing back out to the living room. I prepare myself for the worst-case scenario, like the sheriff coming to tell us he’s in jail or, worse, that they’ve found his body.
I throw the door open and suck in a relieved, albeit confused breath when it’s not the sheriff at the door, but Van and my brother.
Billy’s shoulders are curled forward, his head down, and his teeth chattering. It’s not particularly cold, but the nights are cooler these days, and the water temperature is dropping along with it.
“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been worried sick! Why are you both wet?” I shoot an accusatory glare at Van.
“Billy was down at the lake, going for a swim.”
“What in the world would possess you to go for a swim at night with a freaking cast on? It’s not even the waterproof kind! You could’ve drowned! Mom!” I shout over my shoulder. “Grab me some towels.” I usher my brother inside. “Jeez, you’re freezing.”
“I’m not that cold.” His teeth clack together.
“Really? Because the teeth chattering tells a different story.”
Mom appears with a single towel. “Oh!” She glances between Van and Billy. “What happened?” She rushes over and drapes the towel around Billy’s shoulders.
Van is wet from the waist down, and shoeless. “Did you go in after him?”
“Yeah.” He nods once, and another wave of goose bumps pebbles his skin.
“I’ll go get more towels.” I leave Van dripping in the middle of the kitchen and grab a stack from the linen closet.
Mom flips into hyperdrive and runs to the laundry room, gathering fresh dry clothes. It occurs to me that Van could go back to his house and change, but he graciously accepts the sweats and T-shirt and heads down the hall to the bathroom.
My parents help Billy to their bathroom, since Van is in the one my brother would typically use. I’m hopeful it’s not completely disgusting. I grab a stack of clean clothes from the top of the dryer and follow them inside.
Billy grumbles about being fine, but my dad ignores him and takes the fresh clothes. Based on the state of his cast, he’ll need to have it replaced. I leave my parents to manage him like a grumpy oversize toddler and return to the kitchen. Needing to do something with my hands, I put on the kettle and then take out the double boiler so I can make some hot chocolate. Van opens the bathroom door and steps out into the living room. The sweats are my brother’s. They’re way too long, but Van’s thighs are thicker and his waist isn’t nearly as narrow. They’re stretched tight, and so is the shirt. His hands are strategically clasped in front of him, covering his junk.
I’d think it was cute if I wasn’t so pissed off at him.
“Can I make you some tea or hot chocolate?” I don’t want to be nice to him right now, but considering he saved my brother from potentially drowning, I feel compelled to at least make him a warm drink.
“Hot chocolate would be great, thanks. Where’s Billy?” Van crosses his arms over his chest, not defensively, more to warm himself up, or at least that’s my impression, based on the way he fights another shiver.
“My parents are getting him warm clothes. If you’re still cold, there are blankets in the living room.” I motion to the couch on the other side of the open-concept room. The kitchen, dining room, and living room are all one big space. I shouldn’t be embarrassed by my family’s home. It’s modest and quaint and a mishmash of other people’s secondhand things, but it’s where I grew up and holds mostly fond memories. Still, I’m self-conscious having him in here, which is ridiculous, considering my current living arrangement is a trailer and he’s now the owner of Bee’s semi-hoarder-style cottage.
“I’m okay. I wasn’t in for very long. I’m sorry about what happened earlier and what I said. I just . . . I saw you with my brother, and then he called and told me he was contesting the will and that you were going to help him declare Bee as incompetent. It was one more thing on top of all the other stuff I’m dealing with, and I overreacted.”
“So you took him at his word rather than asking me my side?” I set the kettle on the stove, happy I have something other than Van to focus my attention on.
“I thought you would tell me, but then you acted like everything was fine. What was I supposed to think?” His voice is softer now, holding none of the accusation it had earlier.
I reduce the heat on the burner and turn to face him, seeing his point, even if it still hurts that he assumed the worst. “I called Bernie as soon as your brother left, but I didn’t have any answers. And honestly, look at what’s happening right now in this house. Since I’ve been home, I’ve been trying to tell my parents that there’s more going on with Billy than they’re willing to admit, and tonight he almost drowns. And probabl
y would have if you hadn’t been there. I was worried that you wouldn’t see what I saw, or believe that your brother could do something like that. Or maybe wouldn’t want to.” The end of my nose tingles, and I pinch the bridge as a distraction, aware I’m on the verge of tears. Which I hate. “Maybe I should have said something right away, but I couldn’t predict what your reaction was going to be. People don’t always want to see the truth, Van, even when it’s standing right in front of them. I’ve been the one trying to open people’s eyes in this house, and it’s exhausting. I was trying to protect you, not hurt you.”
He takes a step toward me. “I’m so sor—”
I hold up my hand to cut him off, because there is more I want to say. “I know you tried to dial it back when we were having that conversation, like you knew you were pushing the limit, but you asked me an impossible question that I couldn’t answer.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to choose between your family and me. That wasn’t fair.”
“No it wasn’t, but I understand why you did, and you have a right to. The answer isn’t cut and dried, though, which is why I was waiting to talk to Bernie. I was trying to save us both some hurt.”
Van sighs and closes the space between us. He traces the edge of my jaw with his fingertip and then takes my hands in his. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Dillion. I know you have a lot going on, maybe more than I realized, and I should have come out and asked the questions, but my head was a mess. While I love Bee’s cottage, what I’m most worried about losing is you.”
His expression is a mix of worry and apology. As much as it hurt at the time, I can see where it all went wrong. “I can give you a pass on this one, but next time come out and ask me, and I promise if your brother ever tries to blackmail me again, I’ll let you know right away.”
“I’ll punch him in the nuts if he so much as looks at you the wrong way.” Van lifts my hand and kisses my knuckle. “I’m so sorry. I’m a lot to deal with.”
“Like I’m not.” I glance around the house. “And you’re nothing I can’t handle.” I tip my head back, meeting his warm gaze, and my breath catches.
He tips his chin down as the kettle starts to whistle. We both let out strained chuckles. Van brushes his lips against my temple and steps back so I can replace the kettle with the double boiler. I add milk to the second pot and stir while it heats, adding chocolate and whisking until it melts and turns a warm brown color. Van leans against the counter and watches me. I pour the steaming concoction into mugs, adding marshmallows and a dollop of whipped cream before I pass Van a mug.
We sit down at the table next to each other, and I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is within earshot before I drop my voice and ask, “Can you tell me what happened?”
Van shrugs. “I don’t really know, but I went down to the dock to clear my head. Billy showed up and just stripped down and jumped right in. He was talking to himself, so at first I thought he wasn’t alone, but when I realized he was and that he was struggling, I rushed to help him. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he couldn’t shower in the house because it’s bugged and he’s being watched.”
“Bugged? He’s never been afraid of spiders before.”
“No. Not insect bugs, but like the way feds wire places in TV shows.”
“So he thinks the police are watching him? Why? Because of his DUI?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? He wasn’t making much sense.”
I rub the back of my neck. “This is worse than I thought. I think there’s more going on with him than just taking too many painkillers and drinking too much.”
“Do you think he’s gotten himself into more trouble? Like he has a drug problem?”
“No. Well, maybe he’s using the painkillers and the alcohol to self-medicate, but I have a feeling it’s mental health. My great-aunt always struggled with ups and downs, much the same way Billy does. But I think back then people would call her eccentric and brush it off. Based on the stories I’ve heard, it was a lot more than that. She was anxious and paranoid. She was always talking about conspiracy theories, to the point of being obsessive about it. I don’t know if it’s hereditary or not, but if it is, Billy could be facing the same thing. He’s always been one of those people who thinks everything is a conspiracy. I’m concerned he needs help, and not the kind any of us can give him.”
Van flips his hand over, palm up, and I slip mine into his. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do or say to make it better, but I’m here, and I’ll help however I can.”
“If you hadn’t been there tonight, who knows what would have happened.” My voice cracks. There’s a very real possibility that Billy might not have been found until it was too late to help him.
Van puts an arm around me. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be all right. We’ll figure it out.”
When my mom comes back to the kitchen, I can practically feel her embarrassment. As it is, her cheeks turn red. “I’m so sorry, Van. Poor Billy has been having a rough time, and I think he had too many beers. I’m so glad you were down there to help him get back up.”
“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.
Love Next Door Page 25
