by Sara Brookes
What the fuck had she been thinking?
Reality crashed on her, reminding her she’d just done exactly what she said she wouldn’t do. She let her pussy get the best of her. Something she never, ever did. She pushed hard against his shoulders, flipping their position. Keeping her knees pinned against his shoulders, she leaned closer.
The overwhelming stench of alcohol hit her hard, stealing her breath. She never wanted to get used to that odor. Getting used to it mean she accepted his drinking. And if there was one thing she didn’t want to have it was complacency with Alex’s alcoholism.
“Elena?”
“This was a mistake,” she answered tersely. “A huge one. I shouldn’t have come. Jesus, what was I thinking? This. Us. Whatever. It was a mistake. A big one. I knew and I let it happen anyway. You need to get your life together and figure out a few things before you try to figure out what you want sexually.”
“I need you to show me, Elena. I already told you.”
“No. You want a fuck buddy who dominates you and that’s not what I do. Not even close.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Bullshit. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Screw it, she was done holding her tongue. “You’re using alcohol as a crutch. Using it to mask your pain. Maybe it will take you waking up a few times in a pool of your own vomit to realize what I see right now. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to yourself? To those who love and care about you?”
Alex’s lips twisted, his body going lax. “Why should I care? I’ve seen how people who say they love me treat my emotions.”
“Not everyone is Vivian, Alex. Not everyone is as selfish as she is.”
“So I’m not allowed to be selfish once in my life?”
The hatred flowing through his eyes pained her. She wanted him to be able to comprehend even just a small portion of what she was going through watching him. “You’re being destructive—not selfish. Big fucking difference.” She slid her hand over her jaw, cradling it in her palm. “You’re playing a dangerous game. One I’m not sure you realize you’re participating in. And it’s not just you who stands to lose everything.”
“You’re one of the last people I would have expected to get a lecture from.”
“Because it’s what you need.”
“What I need is answers. If you can’t give me those—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say something you’re going to regret when you’re sober.” She reached up, holding his face firmly between her fingers. “Alex, please listen to me. You’re hurting. I get that. Just stop drinking. You can do this without a crutch. A crutch that could destroy you. I know the signs, Alex. I’ve watched people I care about turn their backs on me—choose to live their lives at the bottom of the bottle. I won’t go through it again. I just won’t.”
“Then don’t.”
Stunned at his harsh tone she released him. He rolled away, snagging the bottle of tequila off the coffee table and vanished into the kitchen. The credits to the movie rolled, the cheery music the only sound in the house. John McClane could cause a few explosions, shoot up a few bad guys and save the world. And she couldn’t even mange to convince Alex Conners he was destroying himself.
Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker.
* * * * *
The dulcet tones of the ringer on her cell phone awakened Elena. She reached blindly through the dark, her eyes crusted and swollen from hours spent crying. Feeling battered and raw, she cleared her throat as she pushed the Answer button. “Yeah.”
“Elena? What the hell is going on?”
The strong tone of Patrick’s voice broke through the haze of heartbreak. “What?”
“Allison and I just landed and there’s a message from the sheriff. They had to take Alex to the university hospital after they found him unresponsive. His neighbor called in to report a bunch of yelling and screaming coming from the house. We’re on our way there now.”
“I’ll be there.”
She broke every speed limit between Gatlin Falls and Charlottesville, arriving at the hospital before Patrick and Allison. She’d had to threaten the nurses to let her in the room since she wasn’t family, but now she sat fiddling with the clasp on the coat she’d hastily thrown on over her nightgown.
She hadn’t thought Alex could possibly look worse. But now, with all the tubes, wires and beeping medical machinery, she knew how wrong she’d been. A large bandage swathed most of his head, a wide strip of bright-red blood standing out starkly against the white. Alex needed a lesson in tough love, but this was taking things to the extreme. If he hadn’t understood how much harm he was causing himself before, maybe this kind of incident would drive the point home.
“You are an asshat, Alexander Conners. Do you know that?” Reaching out with trembling fingers, she took his hand in hers. Heat pricked at her eyes. She didn’t know if he could hear her, but she had to try. She was ready to plead with him until she lost her voice.
“I meant everything I said to you at the house. You have people who love and care for you. People who are hurting because you’re sick. And you are so, so sick. You need help. You need guidance from people who are trained to help with this kind of thing. I know you probably think you can handle this, but you don’t have to. You have family and friends. You have me. You will always have me. Please come back to me, Alex. Please come back and let me help you.”
A soft cough from the doorway caused her to turn and grab a handful of tissues from the box on the side table. She furiously wiped away the wetness coating her cheeks, dabbed at her runny nose.
“I had no idea it was this bad.”
Knowing it was Patrick made it easier to turn and face him. “It was only noticeable in the past few weeks. Right around the wedding. Or at least that’s when I noticed it. At first I thought he was just being social, but…he kept drinking.”
Patrick clenched his jaw, frowning. “I’d wondered how tough the whole ceremony was on him. He hid it well. It’s obviously caught up with him finally. He’s going to have to face it now because I’m not going to let him skirt the issue. We both fought too hard to pick up the pieces after what happened with our father. Doctor said it could have been worse.”
“They always say that when they don’t know anything. Where’s Allison?”
“I dropped her at a hotel to get some rest, long day of travel. He’s in a coma now. They don’t know how long this amount of alcohol will take to work out of his system. A few days maybe. It doesn’t help he has a concussion from the fall when he passed out. All we can do now is wait.” Patrick stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “How are you? And don’t try to lay your standard bullshit on me, Elena. We’ve known each other too long for smoke and mirrors. I heard what you said and thank you.”
“I tried telling him all that last night but he just didn’t seem to care. If I’d just been more persistent. Forced him to listen to me, maybe then—”
“This may have been worse. He could have attempted to drive. Hurt someone else, maybe even killed them. I’m sure you tried, but you and I both know he’ll only listen when he’s ready.” He gestured to the bed with his chin. “Maybe this will knock some sense into his thick skull.”
She stared long and hard at Alex’s slight figure. “I don’t know if this is enough.”
“It needs to be. I need your help though. I need you to convince him he’s destroying everything he cares about. That he could lose everything.”
At least one of the Conners had some sense. “Nothing I said to him is going to make a difference, Patrick. I want it to—I truly do. But I’ve been through this before and I know…I know what it does to people. Alcohol ruined one of my families, I don’t know if I can take it happening to another. I’ve always thought of myself as a strong person, but…”
“With or without your help it’s ultimatum time for him. I’m not going to give him a choice.”
She rose, discarding her tissues as she wrapped her coat aroun
d her body again. “I’ll pay for his rehab. Whatever the cost, I don’t care.”
Patrick’s mouth twisted into an annoyed frown that eerily mirrored the one Alex had given her earlier. “He won’t like you taking such a step.”
“No, he won’t. I don’t much care.” She skirted the hospital bed, giving it a wide berth because she very much wanted to touch him again to reassure herself. “We both know if he keeps traveling down this path, does something he can’t recover from, he’ll hate himself. I would prefer he hate me.”
“Elena.”
She held the door casing for support as she stared out of the room. The distressing image of Alex in the hospital bed wasn’t something she wanted to look at any longer. It was already burned into her brain. “It doesn’t matter what you tell him. Make up something if you have to. Just do whatever you have to do to get him some help.”
Chapter Six
Alex Conners stood in the middle of Main Street, studying the banner hanging in Perfect Shot’s panoramic window. Patrick had chosen well with the bright colors and bold font to proudly declare the coffeehouse’s two-year anniversary. No doubt his sister-in-law had something to do with the design and execution. She certainly had enough geek points to accomplish the task.
Life had certainly gone on in his absence.
A knot of dread sat like a thick, heavy ball in his stomach. Could he handle this again? One year ago he couldn’t have cared less about some banner hanging in front of his store. The shop could have gone to hell for all he cared. He hadn’t been concerned about disappointing his brother. He’d just done whatever he could to maintain the feeling of numbness so he wouldn’t have to think about his shortcomings.
However much alcohol was necessary.
A few locals he recognized paused briefly at the shop door, eyeing him warily. He lifted a hand in greeting, hoping the smile he’d plastered on his face was enough to convince them he was clean and sober.
Eight months and counting.
Each day was another step on the road to recovery.
The two women smiled in return, but he noticed the doubtful look they exchanged before disappearing inside. The town gossip mill was going to get a workout tonight. The alcoholic Conners brother was back. He’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. He wasn’t convinced he was fit for public interaction, but his counselor had assured him otherwise. He agreed it was time to get on with his life again and establish some kind of normal routine that would fill the void he’d once packed with alcohol.
But damn it all to hell if he could take the few steps he’d need to make in order to go through Perfect Shot’s doors. Those twelve steps he was working on now seemed a breeze compared to this.
“Alex!”
Genevieve Lambert, the owner of the Southern Ridge Grill, swung her bag over her shoulder as she stepped off the curb. “I know Gatlin Falls is a small town, but stand there long enough and you’re liable to cause a traffic snarl.” Her hand brushed against his forearm. The musical tones of her voice didn’t help comfort him. “You all right, sugar? You are as white as a ghost.”
A bead of sweat trickled down his spine. Doubt thickened his throat, making speech nearly impossible. He shouldn’t be here. It was too goddamn soon. He spun on his heel, desperate to get away.
A gentle, soothing hand pressed against his shoulder stopped him, encouraging him to turn around. “Running won’t help. That demon of yours is just going to taunt you until you face it down and squash it.”
“I thought I was ready.”
“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. How about one of my strawberry tarts to give you a little courage?”
“I think I’ve gained thirty pounds since I started rehab. Food replacement therapy. Exchange one vice for another.”
Her studious gaze gave him the once-over. “You look good, sugar. Healthy. A well-fed man who keeps himself in shape is an addiction I don’t mind fueling.” Genevieve reached into her tote and pulled out a large box. “Pick your poison. One missing tart won’t hurt my pockets.”
A colorful assortment of pastries greeted him as she lifted the lid. His stomach growled. The gas-station burritos, slushies and Corn Nuts he’d lived on during his cross-country trek suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing as they once had. Unable to resist the lure, he lifted out a strawberry tart. The combination of sweet tartness and the melt-in-your-mouth crust exploded against his tongue as he bit into the pastry.
It tasted of home.
It reminded him how much he’d missed the town.
“It’s good to see you again, Alex.”
He chewed as he nodded. “It’s nice to be somewhere familiar again, knowing there are people all around me who know me. Rehab was a really lonely place. Especially because I managed to burn so many bridges during my descent into hell. Not as though I had a windfall of visitors.”
Not a single one. Not even Patrick. Sure, there had been a few emails in the beginning, but those had stopped when Alex had decided to refuse all contact with the outside world. With the life he once knew. In order to recover he’d cut all ties. Now he was back to pick up the tattered edges.
“I’m sorry I missed your wedding.”
“Bah, you been to one wedding, you’ve been to them all. Don’t lose any sleep over it.” She tucked her hands into her black pinstripe chef’s jacket. “You say rehab was lonely, but I bet it’s scary standing right here in this spot too.”
“Yeah.” He kicked a rock, watching it skitter across the street. “I feel like I have to work extra hard now because these people do know me. They’ve seen me at my worst.”
“People in this town have short memories.”
“It’s only been a year.”
The drops of silver dangling from her ears swung as she tilted her head. “I’m not saying they’ll forget, but it’s not as though no one in this town has never been up against adversity. They may have seen you in the pit of hell, but it’s what you do with your life now.”
He contemplated her wisdom as he finished off the treat she’d given him. For someone he didn’t talk to a lot, she sure managed to hit the nail on the head. “As always, your food is delicious.”
She stood, wiping her hands against her pants before offering a hand to him. “I know just the place you can get something to wash it down with. Best damn coffee in town. So I hear.”
He hauled in a breath, knowing it was time.
The earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee washed over him as he stepped through Perfect Shot’s doors. The sights and sounds of the beloved coffee shop were pieces of familiarity clicking into place. Nearly all the tables and sitting areas were full of customers indulging their caffeine addiction.
A line of six customers stretched away from the counter and his brother was working furiously to fill those orders. Genevieve squeezed his shoulder, moving behind the counter to restock the pastry case with her assorted offerings.
Alex stepped behind the counter as well, nudging Patrick in the side with his elbow as he tied an apron around his waist. Patrick stared at him for a few seconds, looking for something. Probably signs he’d drowned his sorrows in a bottle. Wouldn’t have to worry there. Not anytime soon. Maybe ever. His stomach wanted to revolt just thinking about the stuff. He was done with that chapter of his life. The urge may still be something he struggled with daily, but he’d lost his taste completely.
His younger brother clapped him on the back, pulling him into a tight hug. More tension Alex had been harboring dripped away, relief flooding his body. He’d expected Patrick to offer a few stern glares and turn his back. It was what Alex rightfully deserved after the way he’d acted. But Patrick’s tight grip on his shoulders said more than words could offer.
Family didn’t need words.
Patrick tossed him a damp rag and after a quick hand wash, they were off. It wasn’t long before Alex fell into his old pattern, filling and preparing drinks as they once talked about before his life had turned to shit. He’d been too lost in his o
wn world to truly enjoy this.
Hours later, Alex dropped into a chair, his entire body aching. The good kind of ache that came from fulfilling, honest work. He hadn’t recognized how much he’d missed something so simple until he’d experienced it again. It felt good to hurt from putting effort into something other than lifting an assortment of bottles to his mouth.
Patrick dropped into the chair across from him, sighing deeply as he did. “If this is any indication how the rest of this week is going to go, we’re in for a wild ride.”
“Sounds as though I came back just in time. Thanks. For taking care of things while I was gone. I left you in a tight squeeze without much of an explanation.”
“I’m just glad you’re home. Talked to Mom?”
“No. Not just yet. I may take a drive up there this weekend. Need to get my head around a few things before I face her. I suspect she’ll have a few choice words for me.”
“More than a few if the last time I talked to her is any indication. She misses you. But we all understood your need to just take care of yourself.”
Repairing his relationship with Patrick had been at the top of his list, right along with his mother. The three of them had been through so much, especially after his father had been tossed in jail when his out-of-control temper had finally gotten the better of him. But there was also someone else at the top of his list. Someone he wasn’t convinced would even speak to him in the first place.
Someone he desperately needed to thank.
“I missed a lot of people. Probably more than they missed me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. What are you plans now?”
Alex tapped the arm of the chair with his fist. “I don’t have any.”
Patrick’s gaze registered surprise. “On purpose?”
“Yeah. One of my twelve steps.” Alex remembered a few sessions with his counselor, the breakthroughs that had left him feeling hollow and utterly alone. “Vivian always had my life planned out. Every step. Every move down to how my underwear was color-coded. I think I just…want to let some things happen and see where my life takes me. It’s freeing. And scary as hell.”
