He made a noise and tossed a bag of licorice in the cart I also had to pull out. “I’ve had enough of being on someone else’s schedule and being confined to four walls.” He shrugged and I couldn’t help but admire the way the cotton of his shirt pulled across his broad shoulders when he did it. “Besides, I don’t really have anything that interests me, so paying for college would be tantamount to throwing money in the trash.”
I jerked to a stop in the middle of the cereal aisle, my Chucks squeaking on the linoleum. It took Cable a minute to realize I was no longer walking next to the cart, and by the time he did, he was at the end of the aisle. He was too far away for me to fish out the Cap’n Crunch he had added to the cart. When he finally noticed I stopped, he turned around and stared at me with a questioning look on his face. “What?”
I frowned at him and asked, “How can you not have anything that interests you, Cable?” He had the means to have anything, experience everything, and yet none of it held any appeal to him. That was one of the saddest things I’d ever heard.
It seemed he could sense the direction of my thoughts because his reply was smooth and laced with that silky innuendo I was starting to hate. “Well, there are things I’m interested in, but I don’t have to be in college to have sex with college girls. They take me just the way I am.”
It was deflection at its finest, but now that I could see what it was, I could walk around it with no effort at all. I made my way toward him and put my hand on the side of the cart. I decided to leave the cereal alone as I stared at him intently. “You should take the time to find something real that interests you, Cable. You should find the thing that keeps your mind occupied and soothes you when all those cravings and demons rise to the surface. If you have something that matters to focus on, then it won’t be as easy for your bad habits to clamor for your free time.”
I sighed and grabbed the end of the cart, so I could pull it toward the dairy section in search of eggs and milk. “Unless you plan on living off your parents’ money and your inheritance for the rest of your life. If you do, I guarantee you won’t manage to maintain your sobriety. You should figure out what you enjoy doing so you can leverage that into some kind of career.” He opened his mouth, but before he could give me his sarcastic reply, I held up a hand and told him flatly, “And I don’t want to hear about your lofty dreams of being a porn star.”
He chuckled and made a sound of approval when I added a package of bacon to the cart.
“What interests you, Reed? I’m sure you have the next twenty years all mapped out.” He said it jokingly, but I bet he wouldn’t be at all surprised that he was exactly right.
I refused to look at him as I added bananas and oranges to the cart. “Understanding why people hurt other people interests me. Helping people who can’t control themselves when it comes to hurting the people who love them the most interests me.” Why my mom couldn’t pick me over her addiction was the question that took up the most space inside of my mind, and I often wondered if I would ever find a moment’s peace until I found an answer.
“Saving lost causes? That’s your thing? That’s what you want to focus on when you finally get the choice?” He shook his head at me and suddenly veered down the school supply aisle. I watched wordlessly as he tossed a notebook and a pack of colored pencils into the cart. Before I could object he told me, “I’ll pay you back for those when my mom releases the freeze on my bank accounts. Idle hands and all that.”
I followed him to the checkout and tried not to roll my eyes in an obvious way as the cashier, who was easily his mother’s age, openly flirted with him as she scanned our items. There was something about Cable that made it so easy for people to overlook all the warning signs those tumultuous eyes flashed between each blink. I couldn’t figure out why I was the only one who heeded them. He might make my body react in ways I found unsettling, and he might challenge all the preconceived notions I had about him at times, but everything inside of me shook against the ways he was trying to slide under my skin. He would never get through my iron shell. I would never allow that.
I was back behind the wheel and headed to the beach house when I finally responded to his question about why understanding addicts was my thing. I turned my head to look at him and noticed he was scrolling through messages on his phone with a sour look on his face.
“It’s not about saving them after they’re lost. It’s about getting to them before they lose their way in the first place.” I always wondered if there was a way to help my mom before she started relying so heavily on the pills.
He went still next to me, and I felt his big frame stiffen. That electric charge that sparked between us crackled with a life of its own. It felt powerful enough to burn and hot enough to leave lasting scars.
“Is that why you confronted me that day in the parking lot? Were you trying to save me before I was lost, Affton?”
It was the first time he used my first name. The way he said it, almost as if it was sweet on his tongue and something special to savor, made me tingle in places that had no business feeling a damn thing around him.
I shrugged, uncomfortable heat staining my neck and cheeks. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t really know why I did it. You were headed somewhere bad, and I didn’t want you to go down that road. Someone needed to try and stop you.”
“We were in school together for years. You never so much as looked in my direction. How is it that you ended up being the someone who intervened?” He didn’t sound mad about it. Curious and puzzled, but there was no anger in his tone.
It took me a minute to think up an answer. I’d told him I was no fan of his, so I had a hard time explaining why I felt like I was sucked into his downward spiral right next to him. “I didn’t want addiction to win.”
He gave a sharp, jagged bark of laughter. I felt the pointy edge of it against my skin. “But it did.”
I blinked at him and had to swallow down the fear that it would win again if he let it take control of his life. “It doesn’t have to. You can win if you play the game. If you’re planning to forfeit, if you aren’t even going to step on the field, then you might as well resign yourself to serving the rest of your prison sentence. Consider this halftime, Cable. The game isn’t close to being over yet.”
This time when he laughed there was a thin thread of humor laced throughout it. “Leave it to a Texas girl to throw out a football analogy when talking about overcoming drug addiction.”
I couldn’t help but grin at him, and when he gave me a lopsided smile back, the cage I kept my heart in rattled loud enough I swore I heard the ringing in my ears.
Luckily this was Cable I was dealing with and the shared moment of levity was quickly torn apart by his softly spoken words.
“Some souls were never meant to be saved. They might end up on the right path, but without fail, they will veer off. It’s all they know how to do. No matter how badly they might be hurting other people, they still lose their way. Honestly, the hurt they cause will never compare to how much hurt they inflict upon themselves.” He lifted his hand to the center of his chest and dug the heel of his palm into the place where his heart sat. He was trying to hold back whatever that tender place inside of him was bleeding out.
I wanted to tell him that sometimes the only way to excise an infected wound was to slice it open and let all the poison out. However, I was the only one around, the only one close enough to him to stem the bleeding. I was having a hard enough time playing his babysitter—and it had been less than twenty-four hours. I didn’t think I could play his spiritual guide on top of it.
We rode the rest of the way to the house in silence. He helped me carry in the groceries, then he disappeared out on the deck with that pad of paper and the colored pencils. I didn’t go after him.
He had asked me why the someone who tried to catch him before he fell had to be me.
I would die before I told him it was because it was more than his addiction that interested me. Cable James McCaffrey intere
sted me in a way no one else ever had . . . and obviously, I hated it because I couldn’t lie to myself and say that I still hated him.
Cable
“HAVE YOU SPOKEN to anyone about that night, Cable?”
The shrink was talking about the night everything changed.
He was talking about the night that turned me from an addict into a killer.
He was talking about the night no one in Loveless ever talked about, so I thought his question was stupid because he knew the damn answer already. Maybe because he wasn’t from where I was from, he thought talking about that night was an option. Maybe he really believed talking about it was something I wanted to do.
It wasn’t.
I kept my gaze trained on the tips of my Chucks and stayed silent. I was supposed to meet with Dr. Howard twice a week as long as I was in Port Aransas. If I went back to Loveless after my wasted summer was over, he was going to transfer my care to a therapist there. One who would more than likely know all the gory details of that night. One who believed I’d gotten off light. One who looked at me and saw a killer.
This was my second meeting with the doc and the second time I sat in his office, eyes trained on the ground, not adding anything to the conversation. I didn’t need a professional to tell me I was fucked up. Every morning when I opened my eyes and regretted that I had another day, more opportunities to screw up everything, I knew something was wrong with me. I shouldn’t feel like I was drowning before the day even began, but I did. Every morning it was harder to breathe. Every minute the weight got heavier, and it was harder to move.
“What about your pretty, blonde friend who comes with you to your appointments? She seems fairly invested in your well-being. Have you talked to her about any of the emotions you may be struggling with because of that night?”
I was so surprised he mentioned Affton that I lifted my head to look at him. He looked more like a beach bum than an addiction counselor. He had on a garish Hawaiian shirt printed with parrots and palm trees. He also had on baggy cargo shorts that were frayed at the hem, which went perfectly with the flip-flops on his feet. He had several woven bracelets wrapped around his wrist and a pair of Oakleys pushed up on the top of his head like he was waiting for our meeting to be over so he could head out to the beach.
I wondered if he thought dressing that way made him more relatable. I thought it made him look like a character out of some sappy teen movie where he was the only cool adult, the one all the kids confided in. I wasn’t buying it.
“Reed? She’s not my friend, and isn’t it unethical or something for you to notice that she’s pretty?” It was the first full sentence I had spoken in our two sessions, and I saw his eyebrows twitch in response.
“Reed? That’s an unusual name for a girl.” I tried not to fidget as he started scribbling on the pad of paper in front of him. I couldn’t imagine what in the hell he got from me talking about the bothersome blonde.
“Her name is Affton; her last name is Reed. I told you, we aren’t friends, so I usually just call her Reed.” It was a way to keep some space between us while we were practically living in each other’s back pockets for the summer. It was a way to remind myself that I shouldn’t be noticing all the parts of her I thought about when I was alone.
“She’s come to both your appointments and waited patiently for you both times. She also doesn’t seem phased by your less-than-sunny disposition.”
It was my turn to lift an eyebrow at the doc. “Did you just call me an asshole?”
He chuckled and gave me a lopsided grin. “I’m a medical professional. I would never do that.”
But he had, and he was right. I was less than sunny; that was the problem. Every day was darker than the one before. “We went to high school together, so she’s familiar with my lack of charm. The only reason she’s here is because my mom hired her to keep an eye on me for the summer. She’s making sure I actually show up to these appointments. And she’s making sure I don’t disappear after them. She’s my babysitter.” I couldn’t keep the twist of resentment out of my tone.
The shrink leaned back in his chair and rested his flip-flopped foot on his knee. He made a noise in his throat and scribbled some more on the pad in front of him. “So, if the pretty blonde weren’t here, would you be in this office, Cable? Would you be doing what you need to do in order to maintain your freedom?”
I leaned back in the chair and crossed my hands over my stomach. The truth was, probably not. I didn’t want anyone peeking into my head. That was why I was doing my best to avoid Affton. For the last week, I’d spent my days on the water and my nights holed up in the media room watching old horror movies. I’d brought a couple girls back to the house with me, and I was right that having Affton practically strip search them before they could come through the door was a major cockblock. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t seal the deal with any of them. Something went wonky in my brain as soon as I got them naked and underneath me. My body was more than willing to get lost in the familiar comfort of the female form, but my mind . . . it was a million miles away and totally uninterested in the soft skin and warm lips that were available. I did my best to send them on their way with a smile without getting my dick wet, but I didn’t feel good about it. Oblivion was never within reach. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me . . . well, what was wrong with me now. I’d always been able to fuck my way into welcome numbness. It was the last escape I had left, and now it seemed as if that door was closed firmly in my face as well.
“No. Honestly, I’d probably have shown up for the first one and then blown off the rest. I don’t want to be here.” I never really wanted to be anywhere.
“Do you think going back to prison and serving out the rest of your sentence is preferable to spending a couple hours a week with me?” He made my options sound ridiculous, and I knew he was right.
I sighed and bent forward so I could rest my elbows on my legs. I lowered my face into my hands and rubbed my forehead. “No. I don’t want to go back to jail, but I don’t want to talk about that night, either.”
“We don’t have to talk about that night, Cable. However, my professional opinion is that you should talk about it with someone. It happened. You are bound to feel some kind of way about those events. If you don’t address those feelings, you’re going to be right back to self-medicating to deal with the inevitable, emotional build up.”
I snorted and lowered my hands so I could look at him. “I was using way before that night, doc.”
“I’m aware of that. So, we could start with why you started using. No one wakes up one morning and decides they want to be a drug addict.” He didn’t say ‘someone like you’ doesn’t decide to be an addict. He said no one decides.
I blew out a breath and laced my fingers, pressing my palms together. The spider web on the back of my hand flexed, and the black widow tattooed on my wrist tensed. “I can’t really remember ever being happy. I know I didn’t particularly have a reason not to be, but no matter what I did, or whom I did, I never felt good. I wanted to party. I started drinking and messing around with girls my freshman year. My folks were never around, ya know? When they were, it was a lot of bickering. They were so focused on making each other miserable, they forgot I existed.”
I shook my head, drifting back in time to when I lost control. At the start, I was so sure I was using to feel better. But at some point, when I used, I felt worse than I ever had before. “It was always easy to score, and before I realized it was happening, I needed more and more of whatever I was using to chase the sadness away. It never lasted for very long, that false sense of happiness, so I started using even when I wasn’t partying. I was always chasing after something that felt good, trying to find a way to feel right.” I let out a dry laugh and closed my eyes. “I think at the start I honestly believed my parents would notice, that someone would ask me what was wrong. They never did.” Not until Affton pointed out that I was fading away right in front of their eyes.
�
��You were hurting, and you wanted someone to see it, to try and take the hurt away. That’s far more common than you think, Cable.” He leaned forward and stared hard at me. “And once your mother was aware of your pain, it sounds to me like she did everything in her power to help you with it. She arranged for treatment. She helped you with your legal troubles. She went to extreme lengths to make sure you don’t screw up this second chance you’ve been given. You wanted her attention; you’ve got it, kiddo.”
The bite of resentment that nibbled on my insides gnashed and growled when I thought about her intervention when it was too late. “I needed her attention when it could have done some good.”
He made a noise and scribbled something in his notebook. I wanted to grab it from him and throw it out the window. I didn’t appreciate my inner turmoil being reduced to nothing more than scribbled words on a page. It felt so much bigger than that. So much harder to control.
“You’re a smart kid with some pretty nasty habits, Cable. I think we both know that even if you had your mother’s attention, you were still on a rocky road. She may have forced you into treatment, but it wouldn’t have done any good unless you wanted the help. That night might not have happened, or it may have had different results. Do you ever stop and think that you very well could be the one with a grieving mother and father instead of the young lady who was with you that night? Do you take the time to think about what life in a wheelchair would be like? Because that could have been you instead of the man who was in the other car.”
His words made everything go fuzzy and dark on the edges.
Suddenly I was struggling to breathe, and I felt too hot and too cold at the same time.
I could hear my blood rushing between my ears, and I could feel every thudding beat of my heart. It felt like there was a stomping foot wearing combat boots inside my chest.
Recovered Page 7
