by Nicole Dykes
Recovery
nicole Dykes
Copyright © 2021 by nicole Dykes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Playlist
1. Mya
2. Jase
3. Mya
4. Jase
5. Mya
6. Jase
7. Mya
8. Jase
9. Mya
10. Jase
11. Mya
12. Mya
13. Jase
14. Mya
15. Jase
16. Mya
17. Jase
18. Mya
19. Jase
20. Mya
21. Jase
22. Mya
23. Jase
24. Mya
25. Jase
26. Mya
27. Jase
28. Mya
29. Jase
30. Mya
31. Jase
32. Mya
33. Mya
Jase
Note from the Author
This book is dedicated to anyone who didn’t receive the love they deserved from the very beginning. To all the forgotten children and victims of violence, don’t lose your faith. There is still good out there, and you will find it.
Save A Place
1969
Behind These Hazel Eyes
Abandoning Sunday
Underdog
Alicia Keys
Hold Me While You Wait
Lewis Capaldi
Here
Alessia Cara
All These Things That I’ve Done
The Killers
Welcome To The Black Parade
My Chemical Romance
Home is Such A Lonely Place
Blink 182
One More Light
Linkin Park
I haven’t seen Rhys for years, but it still feels the same being near him. Being in his embrace feels comforting somehow, like being held by a big brother. It brings me back to when I was nine years old and he was twelve. We were both skinny and dirty kids, but he told me on that day he’d look out for me.
Clearly I believed him.
The door dings, and when it opens, I hear, “Rhys?”
Rhys stiffens and lets me go, stepping back like he’s surprised with himself. “Blair.”
I turn to where he’s looking and see a beautiful blond woman, the rich bitch type, eyeing me with uncertainty and then looking at him. “Are we adopting another kid?”
Kid? I’m twenty, not a kid. And what does she mean by “adopting”? I focus on Rhys and notice a rose gold band around his left ring finger. “You’re married?”
He gives a quick nod, still clearly not someone with a ton of words. It’s been so long since I've been around him. It’s been so long since I've felt safe. “Yes. This is my wife, Blair.” He turns toward her, and I swear I almost see a hint of a smile on his face.
That’s new.
“And no. This one’s over eighteen.” He looks pained as he gazes at his beautiful wife. “She was like a little sister to me.”
I feel the guilt flowing off him. Guilt of leaving us all behind. But I never blamed him. Hell, who wouldn’t get out if they got the chance?
He was just out of high school and badly in need of rehab. I was back with my mother at the time. We hadn’t exactly been around each other much when he left town anyway.
I see Christian hovering toward the back of the store, and it pains me to see him again too. I haven’t seen him since Charity and I were seniors in high school. Since she took off. He looks different. More grown up. Less sad. And for whatever reason, that doesn’t make me think he’s okay. I sense it’s fake, but I can barely feel anything at the moment.
Still numb and so agonizingly tired of everything.
“Tell me what happened to Trey,” Rhys demands my attention, and I focus on him, my chest aching and my soul tired. I’ve just told him I’d come straight from Trey’s funeral, blurting it out because how do you say that without it being a shock? Trey was a kid, and now he’s gone forever.
“I can’t.” I shake my head from side to side in slow motion, trying to will away the memory of my little brother laying in the dirt outside our house.
He nods his head. “Okay.”
“He’s gone, Rhys. And I hate everything.” My eyes lower to the floor. “Everyone.”
Getting right to business, not prodding me any further for details, he asks, “Do you need somewhere to stay?” Still the same Rhys.
I lift my eyes to him. “Have you noticed how similar St. Louis and Kansas City are?” We grew up in Kansas City. In the worst part of Kansas City where, if you visit there, they tell you not to go. Where the sounds of ambulances, police chases, and gunshots are frequent. I shiver at the thought.
He seems to be thinking it over. “Yeah. They are. What can I do?” He sounds almost desperate to help me.
Nothing is going to truly help, but I feel like clawing at my own skin, trying to escape this hellish feeling. I don’t want to be anywhere near that town.
I’m not sure why I tracked Rhys down. He’s a few years older than me. We met in foster care when I was nine, one of the many times my mom messed up and lost us to the system. But unfortunately for us, she always got us back. Still, it’s not like Rhys is the warm and cuddly type. Most people are probably afraid of him at first, all large, tattooed and usually wearing a scowl.
But for me, he always seemed like a safe haven, at least until he lost himself to the drugs. I have no one else in this world. Sean, Rhys’s best friend and another big brother type to me, is in New York, and he sounded so damn happy on the phone. I couldn’t run to him.
I couldn’t pull him down.
I shouldn’t be here, threatening to do the same thing to Rhys. “There’s nothing you could do. I just . . .” I look over at my shoulder, seeing that his wife seems to be giving us some space. I look back to Rhys. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re welcome to stay here, but I get the sense you don’t want to.”
I shake my head. “I need a change.” But I barely have any money saved, especially after I bought the bus ticket to get here.
“How do you feel about Nashville?”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I have zero feelings about Nashville.”
He nearly smiles again, which is just super weird for the guy I used to know. “Quinn is there with Logan. They’re married and have a baby, but he has a shop, and she owns a bar there now. It’s definitely a change.”
Nashville? As in Tennessee?
“That’s still a big city.” Noises. Cars. People. Violence.
He nods. “I’ll do anything I can to help you out. Just let me know what you need.”
I was also close to Quinn for a little while. And now she’s married to Logan? Last I knew, he disappeared on them all and went to live with his rich father who he’d never met, leaving them all behind. He came back?
I have no idea what’s going on, and I feel tired and lightheaded. I don’t know the last time I ate.
“If they have a new baby, they don’t need me to worry about.”
“You aren’t an inconvenience. We look out for our own. Let me call them.” He looks at me in question, and I nod my okay. He looks over at Blair, I think the two of them are having a silent conversation before he moves to the back of the shop.
Blair walks to my side. “You hungry?”
I turn toward her, still shocked Rhys is married. And to a Barbie type,
although I think maybe this Barbie has claws. “Yes.”
“Come on.” She jerks her head toward the building across the street. It’s a cute little bakery in a brick building.
I follow her without argument, too numb to fight. She buys me coffee and a pastry, and we sit down. “So, you were like Rhys’s little sister? That must mean you’re either Charity or Mya.”
I lift an eyebrow and sip my coffee. “If he told you about me, then you know Charity is Christian’s older sister.” Come on Barbie-with-an-Edge, use deduction.
I have no idea how long Christian has worked for Rhys, but surely she knows a little about it. Probably picked up on him having pasty white skin and me not being white.
For Rhys to marry her, she must have some brains.
“Hey, I don’t know if maybe you guys have different moms or dads.” She smirks into her own coffee. “I never assume.”
Huh. Maybe I do like her. “I’m Mya.”
She nods her head. “And you’re in some kind of trouble?”
I don’t know her. I know Rhys married her, but I have no idea who he is anymore. Not really. All I know is the stupid-ass code we all had growing up, one that said we’d take care of our own. But let’s be honest, it’s only a code if you adhere to it. And some didn’t.
Logan left.
Rhys left for rehab.
I haven’t talked to Charity or Christian in two years. It seems most of us didn’t keep our word. But it does seem like Rhys and Sean talk. And Quinn and Rhys. So, who the hell knows?
“No trouble.”
She’s studying me. “Rhys seemed worried.” She doesn’t ask me about Trey, and I’m grateful. I don’t want to talk about my little brother.
Eleven. He was eleven years old.
So much blood. He was lifeless in my arms.
My stomach churns, and I look across the street, seeing Rhys out the front door. “Looks like your husband’s looking for us.”
She smiles at that and stands from her seat, and I follow, grabbing my coffee and what’s left of my pastry. We cross the street, and Rhys addresses me, “I can get you on a flight tonight if that’s what you want. They’ll be happy to help.” His eyes stay on mine. “But so will I.”
I look around the crowded city street where his shop is located and shiver, listening to all the cars and noise. But Nashville won’t be any different.
Still . . . it’s further away.
“Okay,” I choke out, “I can pay you back.”
He waves me off. “Don’t. Just . . .” He looks up at the sky, looking like he wants to scream, and I know the feeling. “I’m sorry about Trey.” His gaze lowers to meet mine. “I’m so sorry.”
I can feel he somehow feels responsible, which is a little egotistical considering we aren’t blood-related and we hadn’t seen him in years, but it’s still so Rhys. “It’s not your fault.”
He doesn’t believe me. “You want a flight out tomorrow instead? You can rest.”
I nearly laugh at the thought. I haven’t rested in a long, long time. And I doubt it’s going to happen any time soon. “I need to go.” I look back over my shoulder at Blair, who’s standing there patiently, and then I look back at Rhys. “It seems like you have a really good life here, Rhys.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not so bad these days.”
I nod my head, happy for him, wondering how he got here but not enough to dig into the details. Not now anyway. “Thank you for your help.”
“I know I left without any explanation, and when I got back—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “I wasn’t waiting around for you to come back and save me, Rhys. We all wanted to help each other, but I think we all also knew we were on our own too.”
I watch his throat bob with remorse and shake my head at him, not wanting it, not needing him to feel bad for leaving.
“Let’s go.”
I say a quick goodbye to Blair and wonder about Christian. But Rhys booked a quick flight, and we have to hurry. He wasn’t joking about helping me out however he can. I only have one suitcase with me, small enough to carry on, and before I know it, I'm Nashville bound.
Far away from Kansas City, and hopefully I can escape all the memories there.
“Logan, we have a problem.” Quinn walks through the front door, coming in hot as usual. Quinn is kind of a no-nonsense chick, straight to the point and not fucking around.
I like it.
She has her newborn in a sling against her body as Logan, my friend and employer, looks up from the tattoo he’s currently working on—some middle age accountant-type going through a midlife crisis. “What’s wrong?”
He looks at his kid, snuggled up to her chest, and then to Quinn with a questioning glance. I just started working on a piece of my own, only my customer is cuter—a blond with big tits and totally my type, but admittedly, most women are.
Finn, my best friend since we were little kids, is working on a different customer, and James has a customer of his own as well. We’re usually pretty goddamn busy around here, and I’m not complaining, but still, all four of us have our eyes glued to Quinn.
We’ve made our own family here at Lyrics and Ink, Logan’s tattoo shop, and anyone of us would lay our lives down for each other, but especially Quinn.
“Mya,” she breathes, and now I’m even more intrigued. A chick’s in trouble.
“I can help,” I automatically volunteer.
Logan shoots me a sharp look that says no. “She’s a kid.”
“She’s twenty, Logan,” Quinn interjects, and I smile, going back to the tattoo on the blond's hip.
“Not a kid.” I wink at the chick in my chair, and she giggles.
“She’s a kid to me,” Logan growls. “She was like . . .” he thinks about it, looking at Quinn, “ten the last time I saw her?”
She gives a quick nod. “Yeah, about that, I think.”
I have no idea who the fuck they’re talking about, but they grew up together in Kansas City. Finn and I grew up in small-town Kansas, but we all moved down here. And I, for one, haven’t looked back since.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asks again.
Quinn looks sick and is quiet, pulling all our attention to her again as tears well up in her eyes. “Trey died.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Logan looks horrified, and I wonder who Trey is.
“Who’s that?” Finn asks.
Her breath is shaky. “Her little brother.”
“Jesus.” Logan sweeps his hand over his face in distress. “He was what? Eleven?”
She nods. What? Eleven? That’s so fucking young.
She seems to hold her baby a little closer, and you can’t blame her when we’re talking about this.
“What happened?” Logan asks, not touching his customer anymore.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Rhys didn’t ask.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Logan muses, his hand shaking with nerves or shock from the news.
“I can finish up if you need to go.” I nod at his hand, trying not to make it too obvious.
He shakes his hand out and inhales deeply before letting it go. “No.” He looks to Quinn. “Unless you need me to?”
She shakes her head at him quickly. “She’s coming here. Her flight will be in soon. I’ll pick her up.”
“She’s coming here?” Logan sounds surprised.
Quinn nods. “She had to get out of there.”
He accepts that. “Do you want me to pick her up?” He looks down at his client. “I can cancel the rest of my appointments.”
She waves him off. “I’m capable.” She turns to James. “That is, if your husband can handle the bar?”
James merely smirks. “I wouldn’t leave him in charge of shit.”
He sounds nonchalant, but I've never seen a couple more fiercely protective than James and Tommy. Then I look over at Quinn. Okay, maybe Quinn and Logan. But still.
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m go
ing to go tell him.” She shoots me a look. “Hands-off.”
I hold my hands up in surrender, still holding onto my tattoo gun. “What?”
She doesn’t even bother with a further warning before leaving, and I turn to Logan. “Thanks for the backup, buddy. As if I would hurt your friend.”
He chuckles and shakes his hand again, calming his nerves and going back to work. “She’ll always be a ten-year-old kid to me. Don’t touch her.”
His middle-aged client smirks over at me, and I shake my head, choosing to look at my client instead. She has a better rack. “Can you believe this shit?”
She laughs at that, pushing her tits up in her tank top. “No. You seem perfectly innocent to me.”
I don’t tire of that accent. Sweetly southern. And although she’s only twenty-one—I checked her ID—sounds like she’s had a diet composed of only whiskey and cigarettes for half her life. “I’m an angel.”
I wink again, and Logan scoffs, “Stop hitting on the clients.”
“What? You think you’re my boss or something?” I shoot back. He just shakes his head.
“I like it,” the girl drawls, wetting her lips with her tongue. I could probably have a night with this chick, but I'm growing tired of that shit.
I should probably ask Logan more questions about this Mya chick, but I figure he’ll tell me what he wants me to know.
I’m not really one to pry.
And it sounds like I’ll be meeting her soon enough anyway.
