No Treble Allowed: A Straight Wicked Novel

by Kristine Allen

  Giving me a hand signal that looked like the rock and roll sign, he roared off. I didn’t stick around to watch, because I had a plane to catch and time was ticking. Thankfully, I only had a carry-on, so there was no need to stop to check my bag. I only had to print out my ticket after scanning my ID and credit card.

  With each step toward my gate, I second-guessed my decision to go back to him. I questioned whether he would actually change this time, or would he relapse again and again? He’d already promised me the last time that he was going to be strong, but in the back of my mind I’d known. I’d known what was going to happen.

  I’d heard those empty promises before.

  So my question was: When was it going to be enough? How many times could I go through this?

  Had I known when we’d met again, I doubt I would’ve given him the time of day. In fact, I probably would’ve run fast and far away. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, he’d been good at hiding it.

  “Ma’am?” Shaking myself out of my introspection, I stepped forward and went through the process to rush my ass to my gate with a few minutes to spare before I had to board.

  The flight was uneventful but tumultuous at the same time.

  I’d gone straight to the hospital and to the ICU where Poppy had directed me. With his celebrity status, I expected to be turned away. Except his family must have put my name on the accepted list, because they buzzed me in when I said who I was and who I was there to see.

  In their defense, a security guard was waiting just inside the doors as they clicked open and asked to see my identification. Fumbling in my wallet to dig it out, I tried to take a calming breath. Too bad it didn’t stop the shaking of my hands.

  Once he was satisfied, I pulled my suitcase along as I followed him to the room. When I stepped in, nothing could’ve prepared me for what he looked like in that bed.

  Thrashing, he was yelling and soaked in sweat. That’s when I realized he was restrained, and it ripped a hole in my chest to see that.

  A nurse in dark scrubs had a syringe in her hand, which she was attempting to insert into the IV tubing coming from his arm. Another nurse held his legs, because I could see he was trying to kick. It was mere moments after she pushed the plunger that he calmed down and lay limp on the rumpled white sheets.

  Leaving my suitcase by the door, I raced closer to the bed.

  “Why is he strapped down? He’s not fighting you anymore. Please, can you take them off him?” Tears poured down my face as I begged them.

  “Ma’am, his behavior can be unpredictable right now. He’s already pulled out two IV’s. It’s for his safety as much as ours and yours.” The nurse was kind but firm in her answer.

  As tears ran unchecked, I realized Linda and Mac stood off to the side, Linda’s face buried in Mac’s chest as he held her. His tired and tormented eyes met mine over her head. He gave me a half-hearted smile.

  “Stella?” The slightly slurred and breathless voice startled me, and I spun back toward the bed. Heavy eyelids obscured his breathtaking green eyes, and dark circles rested under them.

  Lower lip trembling, I moved in his direction, placing one foot in front of the other. At the edge of his bed, a broken sob escaped me when his hand reached for me but came to an abrupt halt when the restraint reached its limit.

  Dropping into the chair at the head of his bed, I clutched his hand in both of mine. “Goddammit, Logan,” I whispered.

  At my soft words, his eyes dropped and so did his head. “Sorry, baby. Never wanted you to see me like this.”

  “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I need you.” And that was God’s honest truth. In a ridiculously short period of time, he had gone from my teenage crush to my everything.

  Resting my forehead on our clasped hands, I reveled in the rightness of the world that existed when we touched.

  “What It’s Like”—Everlast

  “Logan. Can you tell me what’s going through your head right now?” The therapist’s voice was calm, but inquisitive. I was sure they taught them how to talk that way in head-shrink school.

  “Lots of things.” My elbows rested on my knees as I held my head in my hands. I’d been in this particular rehab clinic for over two months. This time I’d committed to a six-month program. We’d been addressing my relapse patterns.

  “What’s the first thing you think of when I ask you that?”

  “Disbelief that I ever even told you about what happened.”

  “Because you’ve never discussed it in your previous rehabilitations and therapy sessions?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What made this one different?” He knew, but he also knew it was important for me to acknowledge that I was ready to work on healing the issues that had remained with me.

  “My wife told me I needed to deal with the root of my addiction or this wouldn’t work.” Raising my eyes to his, I fought the panic clawing at my throat. “I need this to work. Because I’m afraid if it doesn’t, I’ll lose her. Except I understand the difference between this time and the other times. Before, I was going through rehab because I wanted to make my family happy. Hell, the last time I did it because I knew it was the right thing to do, but I also knew I was doing it to show my wife I could do it. So she’d be happy with me. Now it’s because I have too much to lose, and I want to live. Really live.”

  We went on to discuss the triggers that I would need to recognize. Certain cologne smells, the musty smell basements and some backstages had, guilt, strong emotion, not having control sexually. It was fine to say that I was going to quit, but I’d need to be prepared for those things.

  Dealing with a repeated relapse program was much more intense than the other rehab programs I’d attended. It involved going so much deeper and into more painful territory.

  “I still don’t understand why I was his target? Why me?” It was a question I’d asked myself over and over in the past years. Not that I’d have wished what happened to me on any of my friends or anyone else.

  “That’s an answer you will likely never get. It could have been something as simple as availability. You were there and he began to groom you. It was probably simple convenience. It could have been your hair color, eye color, anything. Regardless, it was an abuse of power.” The even cadence of his voice that I had initially been snarky about did help to calm the panic, along with the deep breathing I’d learned at each rehab stint I’d completed.

  “I wasn’t a little kid, though. I was fifteen years old. I should have known better. I should have been smart enough to figure out he was getting me drunk to do those things to me.” Guilt, disgust, and nausea swelled within me.

  “He was in a position of power as your music instructor. He was also your father’s friend; therefore you trusted him. He used that along with providing alcohol to you to appeal to your need for attention and approval. By letting you drink, he was not only lowering your inhibitions, he was making you feel like you were grown. For a teenager, those things are powerful manipulators. The only part you need to take responsibility for is your continued addiction. The choice to use alcohol and drugs to mask the pain you’ve been carrying with you was one you made because you chose not to tell any of your therapists about the ‘why’ behind your addiction’s beginning. It doesn’t mean the abuse was your fault, it simply means your choice of coping mechanisms was skewed and unhealthy. The fact that he plied you with those things compounds the problem though, because he started the ball rolling as far as the alcohol and substances go. You said you believe he added something to the alcohol later. That was very likely some type of drug.” The counselor allowed me to speak when I was ready.

  “It had to be, because I know I never drank so much with him that I should have blacked out like I did that last night. God, I was so fucking stupid. Thinking I was cool because I was drinking with an adult and being able to hide it from my parents. It was all my fault that it happened. Then afterward, I used those pain pills that weren’t
mine knowing it was wrong.” Squeezing my eyes closed, I pulled at my hair.

  “Logan, look at me.” Reluctantly, I raised my head. “You were not stupid. You were an impressionable and innocent kid. It was never your fault that he did any of that. Now as far as your addiction goes, you need to be able to take responsibility for that part of it. You can no longer blame the addiction on the assault. To allow the assault to continue to be the driving force behind the addiction gives the assault power over you that it should never have.”

  “Yeah, I know. I used poor coping mechanisms by keeping what happened locked inside.” My tone was one of reciting something that had been drilled into me, rather than that of something that I actually believed.

  “Logan, this isn’t about telling me what I want to hear. This is about you taking your power back and no longer being a victim. It’s not an easy thing to metaphorically cut oneself open and shine a light on what we see as the ‘ugly parts’ that are kept hidden under the addiction.”

  Knowing he was right didn’t make any of what we discussed easier. Not having an answer, I hung my head.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this family meeting today?” Swallowing the baseball-sized lump in my throat, I wanted to say no, but I knew I needed to and I was as ready as I’d ever be. Not to mention, we’d specifically scheduled it for when the guys had a break so Levi and Poppy could be there.

  “Yeah.” The shaky, quivery voice didn’t sound like mine, though it had come from my lips. It’s not like I hadn’t seen any of them in the past six months of my rehab stint, but those visits hadn’t been like this meeting was going to be.

  “Okay, well, then let’s head over to the family room.”

  Each step closer to the room where I’d have to face my family had me trembling violently, until I grabbed the wall for support and took some deep breaths. “Still okay?” he asked, and I nodded.

  Stepping into the room where everyone sat on the couches and chairs that created a circle, I reluctantly met each of their eyes. The last was Stella.

  Biting my lip until it bled, I moved closer to where she sat on a small couch that fit two. As I got to within three feet of the couch, she stood and threw herself into my arms. Holding her tight for what felt like forever, I simply basked in her warmth, her scent, and how well she fit into my arms.

  For the first part of the meeting, my counselor would be present. It would be his time to educate them and for them to voice questions or concerns. Then he would leave and let us have the other half of the time together.

  After I finally sat down, Stella held my hand. Not in a clingy way, but in a show of support. My counselor spoke for a bit, then my family asked questions, he asked questions, I answered and asked questions. It was a lot of fucking questions.

  Finally, he got up to leave. “You all can take as long as you want. Logan has completed all of his therapy for the day and is nearly into his personal time. I’ll be a couple of doors to the right if you should need me.” He spoke to the room, but his eyes met mine.

  There was a chorus of “thank you” and nods that preceded his exit from the room.

  Silence reigned for an uncomfortable amount of time. Awkwardly clearing my throat, I prepared to speak. “I need to thank you all again. For still supporting me no matter how many times I fucked up. Sorry, Mom, I’ll try to watch my mouth.” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth turned down, giving her a sort of grimace.

  “I’ve done some shitty things. Let you all down. Lied to you.” A shaky exhale broke up my attempt at taking responsibility for the shit I’d done. “I’ve missed practices, damn near ruined performances, and brought the band to the point of unraveling.” The last I directed toward Levi.

  Wisely, he held his tongue and let me continue. “The hardest thing I’ve had to come to terms with is something that happened the summer Lucas left. It was what started me on this path, but it’s not what continued it. My inability to deal with it and using it as the excuse for my continued abuse of drugs and alcohol is what brought me to this point.”

  Disentangling my fingers from Stella’s, I momentarily hid my face. It would be easier to tell everyone if I hid, but I knew that wasn’t what I needed.

  Dropping my hands to dangle between my knees, I met everyone’s gaze. “I’ve had to find forgiveness. For a lot of things, not the least of which was what happened. For one thing, Lucas leaving that summer was my fault.”

  “Logan! Don’t say that. That’s not true,” my mother burst out.

  “Mom. Please let me finish.” Pushing down the nausea that surfaced at reliving the events that had led to Lucas leaving, I broke down and told them all of it. How my father’s trusted friend and my musical instructor had taken advantage of a young boy during times he was supposed to be mentoring that boy, and how Lucas had found out. Then it was time for the hardest part.

  “He and I never discussed it, but I’m pretty sure he was responsible for Chip’s death that night. I also believe that’s what drove him from Seattle, the fear of being discovered and probably not wanting to have to be in the place where he had a constant reminder of what had transpired. If only I hadn’t been such a stupid, gullible kid. If it wasn’t for my stupidity, Lucas might still be in our lives today.”

  To say my family was shocked was probably describing it mildly. My father ground his teeth, my mother sobbed, Levi looked green and angry at the same time. By that time, I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and I ran across the room and puked in the trash can. Setting it outside the door, I didn’t care who came across it, because I didn’t want that shit in there with us.

  “I’m sorry.” I rinsed my mouth with the water bottle I’d been allowed, then rested my forehead against the wall.

  When a hand touched my back, I damn near jumped out of my skin. My head on a swivel, I whipped to see who it was behind me. My brother’s eyes met mine; no words were needed.

  He hugged me, and I broke down. Sobbing like a baby into my brother’s shoulder, I clung to him. Telling them what had happened was like taking a knife and slicing myself open from neck to groin. It hurt so fucking bad.

  “I promise, I straightened up a little when you said you were coming home. We were finally going to have the band we’d dreamed of. Aiden seemed like a nice enough guy, and he was one hell of a guitar player, but he wasn’t Lucas. I can’t tell you how many times I called to beg Lucas to come home and join us.” Still he held me.

  “Then I found out that my girlfriend had lost our baby. I never even told anyone she was pregnant. Things were hit and miss with us, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to be a dad. Hell, I was a kid myself, but when she lost the baby, I fell apart. That was why I was calling Lucas that night. He was the one who always managed to talk me down from the metaphorical bridge. I mean, he knew what had happened that summer, and without fail, he was always there for me. He’d told me to call anytime I needed him. He’d promised he’d always answer for me. So I’d called because I was losing it. It was stupid, because look what it got me. What it got all of us. We lost him permanently. That’s one thing I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself for. If I hadn’t been so stupid, he wouldn’t have done what he did and left. Then if I hadn’t called, he wouldn’t have been distracted and gotten in the accident. I’ll never be sorry enough.”

  The gasp from the other side of the room barely registered. “Logan.” My name fell from Poppy in a sorrowful wail.

  Pulling my trembling lip between my teeth, I tasted the tears that had traveled down my face. Regretfully, I faced her. The horror on her face as she slowly shook her head eviscerated me. “I’m sorry, Poppy. I should’ve told you. It was my fault. All my fault.”

  “No, Logan. Oh my God. No, Logan. I didn’t know you’d been living with that for all this time.” Her face crumpled. “Logan, he didn’t answer the phone that night. I did. Your call had nothing to do with the accident.”

  “What?” I’d been so sure. “But it was his phone I called. I heard you yell at hi
m. I thought it was because he was on the phone and didn’t see the other vehicle.”

  “Yes. But he’d given it to me because he was driving. The drunk driver was at fault. Not Lucas, not you; it was the guy who ran the red light, Logan.”

  I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. Suddenly, the blame I’d carried from my perceived truth was gone.

  My father was the next to speak. “Lucas is gone, Logan. We all have been devastated by his loss, but things happen that we can’t control. He made the choice to leave. We do not know why, and we never will,” he emphasized slowly and with some force. “Chip’s death was ruled an accident due to his being drunk and under the influence of narcotics. He fell down the stairs. There is absolutely no reason to refute that. It’s best we leave sleeping dogs lie. What we have in this room is a family. A family that will do what we have to do to support each other, love each other, and keep each other safe. While I wish you had come to us years ago, know this—we are here for you always. We love you unconditionally. And we will do whatever it takes to help you beat this. Besides us, you have a beautiful wife that loves you.” He motioned to Stella, who was watching me with her hands covering her mouth, but eyes full of love.

  Levi squeezed my shoulder in a show of support, and I moved with purpose to where Stella still sat. Dropping to my knees in front of her, I gently pried her hands from her face. “Baby, I love you, and I meant it when I said I was going to do my best to be a better man for you. That’s not completely true, though.” Confusion marred her perfect features. “I want to be a better man for us. For me. For the family we hopefully will have one day. It’s not always going to be easy for me, but I’m all in with this now. I swear on my life.”

  Nodding, it took her a moment to find her words. “That sounds fabulous. Perfect, even.”