by Rye Hart
She didn’t answer me and I could see the light of doubt flickering in her eyes.
“Delia?” I asked. “Is everything ok?”
“Everything’s fine,” she said, though I wasn’t one-hundred-percent convinced.
I hopped out of bed and started for her bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped in, reluctant to wash her body from mine. My head was swirling, drunk with the passion I had just experienced. It was the same every time. She was not only the perfect distraction, but the perfect addition to my life. She gave me a high I’d never felt before. Not even on my drunkest nights on that damn tour bus. I scrubbed myself down quickly and got out, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body.
But when I came back into the bedroom, Delia wasn’t on the bed.
“Delia?” I asked. “Where’d you go?”
The apartment was silent as I started walking around.
“Delia? Where are you?”
Panic began to fill my chest as I crossed her apartment and checked the other room.
“Delia?” I asked, as I threw open the door.
I strode over to the door to see if it was open, but there was something taped to it that caught my eye. I tore the piece of paper off the front door of her apartment as my eyes scanned it, and suddenly it all made sense.
Drake,
It means a lot that you came to my graduation. I’m not sure who invited you, but I’m glad they did. But Drake, as much as I might want to, I can’t do this. You're in recovery and I have a life I’m about to start. Maybe our futures will bring us together again, but for now the time isn’t right. Not for you, anyway. Focus on you. Get back on your feet. Tackle the adventures you have coming your way. Leave me in your past for now.
I called a cab so I could go get my car from campus. I needed to clear my head. Tell Elsie I said hello.
Delia
I crumbled up the note and tossed it into the garbage can. My chest hurt and it took me a moment to realize that it was from the disappointment I felt standing there alone in her apartment. She was letting me go and it hurt like hell. I’d never before wanted anything more than a good fuck from any woman I’d been with after losing Shannon. Until Delia.
She thought she was doing the right thing by not complicating my newly found sobriety, but I needed her. I needed her and I wanted the fuck out of her. I walked through her apartment and shut the door behind me. I made my way to my truck, stopping just shy of the door. I looked out along the horizon, toward the direction of my farm. I was torn between wanting to go after her and convince her we could be good for one another and wanting to go home and wallow in my self-pity. For once in my damn life, I chose to do something constructive.
CHAPTER 24
Delia
I was sitting in my car on campus as my stomach began to flutter. I placed my hand on my stomach, imagining what that little bean looked like flipping around in there. I knew it was too early for me to be feeling the little one, but it didn’t stop me from imagining what it would feel like.
Sighing, I leaned back into the seat. My mind was being pulled in so many different directions. I knew Drake needed time to get his sobriety on a solid track. I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle something like this. The pressure alone would throw him back into his drinking again. I truly felt I was doing the best thing for him.
And whenever he got his feet firmly under him, we could sit down and talk.
He had gotten this far without me, so I knew he could take himself the rest of the way. Drake was stronger than any man I’d ever come across. There were multiple people that relied on him, and I didn’t want to become another one. I didn’t want the pressure of getting someone pregnant to be the thing that spiraled him back into his drinking.
I wasn’t sure if I could handle being that in his life.
My phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize. I hesitated to pick it up, fearing it could Drake. I grabbed my phone and my finger hovered over the green button, debating on whether or not to take the call.
I drew in a deep breath as I answered it.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Hello, is this Miss Jakobson?”
“It is. With whom am I speaking?” I asked.
“This is Elliott Hart. I’m calling from Rescue House Counseling.”
I perked up at the name as I sat straight up in my seat.
“Yes, Mr. Hart. It’s wonderful to hear from you. How are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m doing great now that I’m looking at your application. I saw your graduation date was today. How did it go?”
“It um—it went well. I got my degree as well as an award for being in the top ten of my class.”
“That’s fantastic. Listen, I was wondering if you would be up for an interview. It’s only with me, and it’ll be quick. We’ve had a flood of people seeking help and we need to hire someone on fast to help with paperwork. It’s a starting position, but it’s still salaried, and you would have the ability to work up to being a full-time counselor.”
“I would love an interview. Yes, sir,” I said, with a smile.
“Okay. Wonderful. It says in your resume that you were graduating with a specific concentration in substance abuse.”
“That is correct.”
“It also says you worked as a personal assistant for Drake Blackthorn?”
“I did yes, for a couple of weeks. Just to get him through his latest miniature tour,” I said.
“And what was the bulk of your job?” he asked.
“I was managing his schedule and I was in the process of setting forth a plan to help him get sober when things went haywire on the road.”
We chatted for a few more minutes and before I knew what was happening, he was asking when I could start.
I sighed as I leaned back into my seat. Now, I knew where the fluttering in my stomach was coming from. This was it. This was happening. A job was coming my way where I could work my way up, have the money I needed to help with the life growing in my body, and make a new way for myself.
“I can start Monday,” I said.
“Perfect. Come in Monday at eight thirty so we can get your new employee paperwork filled out and signed, then I’ll be there to walk you through our systems. It’s a lot of paperwork, but we will get you started and show you the ropes.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, with a grin.
“See you Monday, Miss Jakobson.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hart.”
I hung up the phone and started squealing. I clapped my hands and bounced around in my seat as I cheered myself on. I had done it. I had found a job I could be proud of. No more dealing with asshole clients and people who couldn’t manage their time. No more walking into that office and looking at the seat Drake had been sitting in two months ago. No more sitting in my apartment working from my laptop trying to make ends meet.
This was my new start.
As I backed out of the parking lot, I passed by the lawn of the building I had been in only hours ago. I couldn’t believe Drake had been there. Who in the world invited him? I had so many unanswered questions as to why he was there or how he even knew my graduation was taking place, but none of that mattered now. I was about to start my new life away from the superstar that had flipped my world upside down.
And maybe it was for the better.
As hard as it was to resist him, maybe I was better off without him.
I drove back to my apartment, collecting my thoughts and hoping Drake had left. I didn’t see the truck we had driven here in, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wanted to have the weekend to purge him from my home and get myself ready for work. I wanted to take a couple of days and not focus on anything else but my budget, my new job, and how I was going to break everything to my boss.
But when I got to the front door of my apartment, there something waiting for me.
I picked up the box sitting in front of my home and fingered the satin wrapping paper. It was shiny and eye-catching. I removed t
he paper carefully and opened the box, and inside was the most beautiful bouquet of lilies I had ever seen. They smelled wonderful as I placed my nose up to their blooms, the box dropping to my feet. I held them close to me, losing myself in the smell of them as I smiled into the blossoms.
I reached down for the box and picked it up. I fiddled with my keys to try and get back into my apartment, but something falling to the ground caught my ear. I nudged the box through the front door with my foot, then reached down and picked up the envelope that had fluttered to the ground.
Opening the letter as I walked inside, my back falling against the door as I held the lilies close to my chest.
I’m not done with you yet.
Despite myself, I smiled. I knew that Drake and I together just weren’t a good idea right now, but his persistence made me a bit giddy inside. I wasn’t sure just what I was going to do about him, but I knew I needed to figure something out fast.
CHAPTER 25
Drake
The wind whipped around my ball cap as I rode the fence line with Paul. The horse underneath me was galloping at high speeds as we chased down a few cows that had broken off from the herd. I could see them in the distance, funneling toward the edge of the fencing I was still in the process of replacing.
I had missed this during my stint in rehab.
Realistically, I hadn’t been enjoying this while I was a stumbling drunk, either. I hadn’t been this useful or productive on the farm in years. I had allowed myself to be consumed by the lazy haze of bourbon and beer and had settled for being a useless piece of shit in order to feel some sort of relaxation.
But this—this was really relaxing. I reveled in the he horses, the thunder of hooves, the flaring nostrils, the flying mane as I hung on, my thighs clinging to the saddle underneath me. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins. My eyes were alert and the horizon was clear. The sound of Paul’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“Break off, Drake! I’ll take the left, you go right!”
Running my horse around the cattle, Paul and I started wrangling them back toward the milk house. I could feel the rib cage of my horse expanding and contracting beneath my legs, heaving massive breaths as it carried my weight. I’d never been so in tune with an animal before, so aware of his condition and the things he needed. It was amazing, the things I took in when I wasn’t drunk.
I still couldn’t believe I’d traded years of my life for the bottom of a bottle.
“Don’t you gotta get outta here and get back up to the house?” Paul asked.
“Nah. My new therapist isn’t meeting me here until three,” I said.
“So, you know it’s already past two o’clock, right?” he asked.
“Shit. Are you fucking serious?” I asked.
“Yep. Ten after. Better get a move on, otherwise someone’s gonna throw your ass back in rehab.”
“You got the horse?” I asked.
“Yep. Run your ass back up there. Can’t be late for this one.”
One of the conditions of leaving my rehabilitation facility was getting in touch with a therapist to talk with regularly. I’d been late for our initial meeting. It had just been a phone call, but it was to help the man fill out paperwork. I had put Hank on the task of finding someone who could come to the house in order to keep my privacy, and he had come up with some English fucker whose accent was hard to understand. But, he was someone willing to sign an agreement to keep his mouth shut and not blab our business to the media.
He came at a hefty price, but I didn’t care about what I had to pay to get that kind of treatment. I knew this was important and was a key component of keeping me sober.
I knew this was the key to getting my life back on track.
Dismounting, I started running back toward the house. The last thing I wanted was to meet this man covered in dirt. I dusted off my pants as I ran toward the house, trying not to track in any shit I’d have to clean up later. I rushed upstairs and kicked off my boots, shedding my clothes so I could get in the shower.
After all, I wanted to make a good impression.
When I first talked to the man, he had seemed obsessed with the ranch life and started talking about shit I didn’t expect him to know about: hook ups for heifers to milk them dry in the mornings and the difference between raising chickens for eggs and raising them for meat. He started rattling off farm equipment and asking me if I used it on my own farm. I didn’t know if he was trying to kiss my ass or make himself look good, but it had worked.
If my therapist was so well-versed in ranch life, then maybe we could have our therapy sessions out on the ranch.
As I ran my hands through my hair, I sighed with relief. It felt good getting dirty again, sweating up a storm and having hay stick to my back. I enjoyed this life, especially now that I could remember it. I enjoyed the hard work and the reliable income and the quiet pace of everything. I enjoyed drinking coffee as the sun came up and running the horses around the pasture in the mornings. I loved watching new life being born on this ranch and watching the baby calves and foals stumble around trying to get their legs under them.
I enjoyed being able to repeat the same actions over and over again, then reap the rewards of the fruits of my labor.
But there was still one thing missing, one thing I was still craving when I woke up in the mornings, that I still reached out for in the middle of the night. I missed having someone to share it with. A family to come home to, to eat dinner with. For years, it felt like I lost my only chance at ever having that, but now I wondered if I could have a second chance.
With Delia.
Her absence was painful.
It still befuddled me how quickly she’d wound her way around my heart. I’d been so closed off after losing my wife, content with never loving anyone again. I’d been a total shithead to Delia, and she’d thrown it right back at me. Just like Shannon would have.
She was being stubborn, but I had to find a way to get her back. She was trying to do what she thought was right for me, but I wasn’t going to quit her. Not by a long shot. She could be stubborn, but I could be even more stubborn. Owning a ranch and raising animals meant I had to be stubborn to my core and stronger than I ever thought possible.
Delia was confusing, and that was part of her allure. Women fell at my feet every day. Hell, they gathered around my fence at the road just so they could throw themselves at me. They tossed their bras and panties at me during concerts. They hunted down Stone to try and become one of the groupies he brought back to the bus. Women were more than willing to take whatever small bone I would throw in their direction.
But not Delia. She had a backbone and she stood up to me. And I loved her for it.
As I washed the dirt and grime from my body, I focused my mind. In a week, I’d be back on tour. I wasn’t sure if the guys were going to be there, so we were advertising it as a surprise acoustic tour. Stone and Landon were complaining about my sobriety, bitching about how I didn’t have an issue and that my alcohol poisoning was a one-time deal. Stone said all great artists go through that moment and Landon flat out told Hank that the tour would be shit because I was at my best when I was drinking.
It was a hard thing to digest, but I remembered my group therapist talking about something like this.
They called them ‘triggers.’ Things that happened in our lives or people we interacted with that endorsed or prompted our addiction. Landon and Stone were partiers, and Hank was worried that if they came on tour with me, I would slip back into my old ways. And by the way they were talking and the things they were saying, he had every right to worry.
So when Hank made the decision to advertise it as an acoustic tour to usher in my sobriety and new relationship with Warner Bros. Records, I supported him on it. I was going to miss the guys if they didn’t show up for the tour, but I understood why this was all happening now.
I was beginning to understand a lot of things now that I wasn’t in a drunken haze.
Stepping o
ut of the shower, I prepared myself for this meeting. I dried my hair and put on some decent clothes, shaved off my stubble and slipped on a pair of boots that weren’t caked in mud and cow shit. Just as I went downstairs, I heard a car pulling up into the driveway. Glancing outside, I could tell by the way the man was dressed that he was my therapist.
“It’s now or never, Blackthorn,” I said to myself.
As I stepped out onto the porch, I offered my hand for the man to shake. It was a firm handshake, but one that caught me off guard. Instead of being weak or threatened, the man shook my hand like an equal. I could feel the warmth of his skin and the comfort he was trying to communicate.
Fuck. Even handshakes felt different when I was sober.
“Mr. Blackthorn. Wonderful to meet you. I’m Dr. Robert Ainsley.”
“Nice to meet ya, Dr. Ainsley. Welcome to the ranch. I gotta say, the only tea I got here is sweet tea, but I can put on some coffee if you’re a coffee drinker.”
“Coffee will be just fine. Would you like to do the paperwork now or after the session?”
“Let’s go with after. I’m ready to get this shit on the road,” I said.
“I like that type of attitude, Mr. Blackthorn.”
I ushered the man into my home with hopes of getting my life back on track. Somehow, he brought a reassuring comfort with him. Comfort I hadn’t experienced since my father died. I watched the man walk down the hallway, heading straight for the kitchen. I grinned as I made my way to the coffee pot, preparing us a strong batch as the man got himself set up at the kitchen table.
The kitchen table Delia used to sit at.
CHAPTER 26
Delia
I doubled over at my desk, my abdomen rolling with pain. I laid my forehead on my desk as I breathed deep, my hips aching like they were squeezed in a vice. It robbed me of my breath as tears sprang to my eyes, and I felt a hand come down onto my shoulder as I began to panic.
“Miss Jakobson? Are you okay?”
I tried to breathe through the pain, cradling my tight stomach. Something was wrong with my baby.
