My Mistake (Stories of Serendipity #7)

by Conley, Anne

  Summer sat on the edge of his bed and unclenched his hand from the sheet, taking it in her own. “Brent, we love you. And we don’t want to see you go down that dark path again. You can do this without the pills. You’ve already been through the worst.”

  “What is this, some sort of intervention?” Brent spit the words out. He respected his sister and his friend, but they didn’t understand what he needed like he did.

  Max pushed himself off the doorframe and walked to the edge of the bed. “Does it need to be? You’ve worked really hard to get where you are, and this thing with Casey doesn’t need to be the catalyst that sends you backwards.”

  “Who said anything about Casey? My ribs fucking hurt!” He was manic with pain and fear, and nothing could stop the thoughts that tumbled in his brain. Seeing Max and Summer in his tiny room with their compassionate expressions just made them all worse.

  “I’ve seen you go through broken bones without pain killers before, and you didn’t whine like a two-year-old. This is about Casey.”

  Summer squeezed his hand. “She just needed some time to think. When she comes over to talk to you, you need to show her that you’re on the right path. She can’t see you high, or you’ll never have a chance at redemption with her.”

  “Who says she’s coming over to talk?”

  “I do. I called her this morning.”

  “Dammit, Summer!” Righteous indignation flared in Brent. “Why don’t you meddle in your own damn business? You get your own shit straightened out before you start messing around with mine!”

  He saw the hurt in her eyes, and guilt followed on the heels of the indignation, but he didn’t stop to dwell on it. “Will you quit trying to make sure everybody else is hunky dorey for just a little bit? Focus on yourself and leave me alone!”

  Her voice softened, and she ignored his tirade. “I know you’re hurting.” He scoffed. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through physically. But I know you can get through this.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “All of this.”

  “Yeah, buddy. You can do this. I’ll tie you to the bed, if I have to. But you’re done with the doctors for now. We’re not taking you to the hospital. You’re not getting another script, and you’ll get through this. If Casey comes around, great, but if not, you’ll figure something out. You always do.” Max’s voice was reassuring, but Brent didn’t hear.

  He knew they meant well, but they just didn’t understand. The compulsive need for the pills was overwhelming. Every time Casey’s smile drifted through his mind, thoughts of never seeing it again paralyzed him. The pills were the only thing that would make that feeling go away.

  With the pills, nothing hurt as badly. It was all scattered shards of life, pieces of memories. He could deal with that. When he was on the pills, his emotions evened out, he could handle things. He would be able to laugh again. He would be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. He might even forget Casey.

  Without them, all he could think about was Casey and how he’d been so stupid to lose her again. He couldn’t see the irony, he was so wrapped up in thoughts of making the pain go away.

  “It’s time for you to put on some clothes and quit making us look at you in your underwear.” Summer held a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, folded neatly in her hands. “You’ll have to change your own panties, but I’ll help you with the rest,” she smirked at him.

  “I don’t need to get dressed.”

  “Okay, let’s try this.” She spoke slowly. “I. Talked. To. Casey. She’s. Coming. Over.” She tossed him a pair of underwear. “Put these on, unless you actually want a shower, which I’ll be happy to help you with if you need.”

  His mind whirled around the idea that Casey was coming over. “Why?”

  “Because you reek.”

  He gritted his teeth around the desire to roar at his sister again. “No, bratty britches. Why’s Casey coming over?”

  Summer shrugged. “Don’t know. She asked me if you were feeling better, and I said not really, but you could probably use some company.”

  Brent groaned and pulled himself back into a sitting position before standing for the first time in four days. He stood still, fighting the light-headed feeling.

  “You okay?” Summer was studying him. Max had left, Brent assumed back to the barn.

  Nodding, he said, “I don’t think I’ll need your help in the shower, but if you could keep an ear out?”

  “Sure.”

  Brent paused at the door to the bathroom. “You seem to be doing better.”

  “Nothing like somebody else’s drama to take my mind off my own.” She mused.

  “You’ve always loved everybody else’s drama.” She poked him in his chest. “Ow! That hurt!”

  “Watch it, Brent. It seems you’re not really in a position to be critical of others right now.”

  In the shower, hot water streamed over Brent’s sore muscles, needling out some of his pain. He admitted to himself he felt a little bit better, as he soaped up and rinsed off. He couldn’t help but wonder why Casey was coming over though.

  He had just finished dressing and sat down on his couch when he heard her car pull up.

  “I’ll see you later.” Summer bent down and kissed his cheek. “I’ve got the night shift.” Brent smiled, but couldn’t quell the disappointment that Casey wouldn’t be staying. He had an idea that the girls had already made his plan for the day.

  Her exit heralded Casey’s arrival, and when he saw her in his door, time stopped. She was wearing a pair of cotton pajama pants and slippers paired with a tank top. He remembered that when she was sad she’d always used to stay in pajamas as much as possible. She’d always said that if she was going to feel like crap, she might as well look like it too. He struggled to pull air into his lungs at the idea that she felt like crap because of him. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and Brent almost wept at the sight of the dark circles etched into her drawn face.

  Brent leaned forward, despite the pain in his ribs at constricting them. “Case. I’m so sorry. I would have told you if I’d known how…”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t. I just want to know what happened. How did you get addicted?”

  He leaned back and sighed. Honesty was best in this case. Lying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Brent needed to tell her the truth and hope for the best. Raking his hand through his hair, he began.

  “I tried to get through college, I really did, but the first year was incredibly tough. My grades were so bad because I was distracted and home sick that I was put on academic probation almost immediately. It was hard to come out of that, so after a year and a half, I quit.” He looked at her, trying to gauge her response so far. Nothing. She just stared, chewing the inside of her cheek in thought.

  “I didn’t want to come home and be a burden on Nana, so I picked up odd jobs here and there. I was restless. I didn’t know what to do with my life, I had no purpose. By the time you were fixing to graduate, I was a complete loser. A college drop-out with no immediate prospects.” She continued chewing the inside of her cheek, only now she was tapping her lip with her index finger. Brent closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch.

  “I spent five years after high school just floating. No school, no career, nothing. Just floating.” He gulped. “Then I heard you’d gotten engaged, and everything I’d ever wanted was gone. I’m not trying to blame you. I know this was all my own damn fault. I’d never made any claims on you, too chicken shit to even tell you how I felt. But when Summer told me you were engaged, I sort of lost it. My recklessness knew no bounds. I started driving drunk, riding Dash at night, I even started shoplifting a little, just to see if I could.” He looked at her again, and dread consumed him at the look on her face.

  Her mouth was open, no longer chewing, and her eyes were wide. “You rode at night?”

  Brent smiled ruefully, “Yeah. That’s what got me. I was out with Dash, and we were going too fast. We both miss
ed something in front of us, and he collided with it, going ass over head on top of me. I should have been killed. Instead, I make metal detectors go off when I’m buck-naked. Dash had to be put down.” A tear leaked out of his eye at the memory of his Dash, screaming and writhing in pain, more broken bones than treatable. He’d railed at the vets, who’d only shook their heads and lectured about how his irresponsible actions had cost him the life of his horse.

  His best friend.

  “That’s how the pills really got started. I started out taking them as prescribed, but figured out quickly that while I was taking the pills, my mind didn’t wander down dark paths as much. Vicadin was great. But Xanax was better. I could pair them up and walk around relaxed and happy for the first time in years. The more I took, the better I felt. It was amazing.”

  “I started taking more and more, and then my doctor quit prescribing them, so I shopped around. I had a routine. There were four doctors that I went to regularly, and four pharmacies that I had my scripts filled at. I told them all I was a farrier, and based on my x-rays, they had no questions that I needed the meds, so they gave them to me.”

  He didn’t say anything else for a while, letting his words sink in. He wanted her to know everything, so he needed to give her time to absorb it all. When he looked at her again, she was leaning back in her chair, her fingers steepled under her chin.

  “If it was so great, why did you stop?”

  He interlaced his fingers over his head, resting them there, and realized it relieved some pressure on his ribs, so he left them there.

  “I ran across a suspicious nurse, initially. She worked for two of the doctors I was seeing. She said something to me, and got me thinking. Then I remembered the people I loved, Nana, Summer, and…you. And I realized that I would do more harm than good if I stayed on that path. I’d done the pills for over six years, up to an average of forty pills a day, and needed help getting off of them. So I picked a new doctor, and started treatment. The Buprenorphine. I see a counselor too. Have been for almost two years. It’s a gradual treatment, beginning with large doses, to mimic the pills, then you wean yourself off the strips. I’ve been at half a strip for six months. The doctor told me I’ll be ready to get off this dose in a couple more months, then I’ll be clean.”

  “What did I have to do with anything?”

  The question startled him. Didn’t she know? “You’re everything, Casey.”

  “What? You’d been gone for years by that time. I’d been gone! How could any of this been because of me?”

  “Wait a minute. Nothing was because of you. It was because of my reactions to you. I’ve been hung up on you my entire life, Case. Can’t you see that? You weren’t in my life anymore, so I thought that my recklessness would make my life better, give me a reason. It’s like that song, I hurt myself to feel. Then when the drugs got to be too much, I imagined what my life would be like with you in it, and how the drugs had no place there. You were a reason for me to quit, and I grabbed that idea and held fast.”

  “But I was married by then, you had no idea I was coming back.” Her words were quiet and breathless, and made Brent want to hold her.

  “Will you come here, please?” He patted the sofa next to him, praying she would come, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she did. “It’s always been you, Case. Even if it was just the idea of you, you’ve always been what’s kept me going. I have no idea what kind of person I would be if I’d never met you.” He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing as tightly as he could, breathing through the pain in his side.

  Her arms wrapped around him, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it hurt like hell. It just felt so good to have her next to him again. “Can you forgive me?” She wasn’t looking at him, which wasn’t a good sign, but she was hugging him, which was a good start.

  She didn’t answer, which was another bad sign. Brent held his breath. He could feel her breathing onto his chest, shallow gasps that told him she was holding back tears. A memory of holding her like this after one of her dad’s binges sucker punched him. He’d screwed up irrevocably.

  “Never mind. I understand.”

  She released him and leaned back, looking him over. “No, Brent. I don’t think you do. This…This is…” She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. He could see her forearms tremor as she forced her hands into her armpits. “This is crazy.” The intensity of her voice scared him.

  “Casey…” A truck rumbling up his driveway turned her head away from him. He sighed, not knowing if he was relieved at the interruption or not.

  “I should go. It looks like you have more company. I don’t want to be…in the way.” Casey looked annoyed by whoever she could see out the window. He couldn’t shift himself in the right position to see what she could.

  “Wait. I’ll tell whoever it is that now’s not a good time.”

  “I can’t do this right now, anyway. Goodbye Brent.”

  Casey turned and held up her head as she offered a tight smile to whomever she held the door open for. Brent waited with more than a little trepidation to see who it was.

  Lindsey. Perfect.

  He’d only seen her twice since the night she’d thrown herself at him in the quarantine barn; once at the diner in passing, and once when he’d gone into town to pick up the medicine for the skittish mare. They had been awkwardly pleasant with each other.

  “Hi Brent.” She offered a radiant smile, her hair flowing down around her shoulders. He noticed she was wearing a skirt, which was unusual, and a beaded tank top. She looked better than normal, but still not as good as the mess in her pajamas that had just left.

  “Hey, Lindsey,” he offered, his stomach roiling. He wanted her to leave, but he didn’t want to be rude. Nana had taught him better. “I would stand, but…well, you know.” He gestured to his broken body helplessly.

  “Oh no! I came to help you, Brent.” Her smile dazzled, and Brent’s nerves were suddenly on high alert. “You’re the one who’s wounded. What can I do?”

  “Um…nothing much, Lindsey. Summer, Max, and Les have been helping me out. I’m actually doing better than I deserve right now.”

  “Who was that woman who just left?” Lindsey raised one eyebrow pointedly. “Has she been helping you out too?”

  “Casey Stewart. She’s one of my oldest friends.” That was all he dared offer her. He had no idea if Lindsey was the vindictive sort, he’d discovered long ago that with women, you really couldn’t tell by looking. And he’d turned her down, while at the same time running after Casey like a bull chasing a heifer in heat.

  “Well…” Sitting next to Brent on the couch, her finger trailed lazily up and down his forearm. “I just wanted you to know…” Lindsey bit her lip, and Brent could tell whatever she was going to say was difficult for her. He felt a pang of regret. If things had been different, they might have been able to have a fling. Or something. “I meant what I said the other night. You’re real attractive, and I’m not going to push anything, but I want you to know the offer still stands.”

  Brent sighed. “I meant what I said the other night, too. I don’t do relationships.”

  Her eyes cut to the side, briefly. “What about Casey? Honestly, y’all look like more than friends to me.”

  “She’s the only exception, Lindsey. And if we look like more than friends, why are you here?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I just wanted to give it one last shot.” Standing, she straightened her skirt. “Can’t blame a girl for trying?” He managed a smile that he was pretty sure looked more relieved than anything. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  Brent shook his head, wanting the awkwardness to end. Mercifully, Lindsey turned with a wave and walked out the door. Brent exhaled and cringed when a stab of pain flared in his torso.

  Why? Why had Lindsey picked this time, of all the times to stop in for a visit? She’d run Casey off, right when she was going to tell him what she thought. He’d spilled everyt
hing to her, and then she’d left. What did that mean?

  Brent tried to heave himself to his feet, but blinding pain pushed him back on the sofa. He was stuck there with his thoughts until Summer came back four hours later.

  “Have you been sitting there this entire time? How’d it go with Casey?” Summer floated into the room like a hummingbird, her arms full of groceries. She didn’t stop for an answer, going straight past him to the kitchen. When he didn’t answer, she came back one hand on a hip. “Well?”

  “I need to throw up.” He’d been holding back the urge all afternoon, but without any Tylenol or ibuprofen, his muscles had stiffened up, and he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to throw up all over himself and his floor. So, he’d sat there, swallowing, breathing as deeply as he could, and trying not to think about it. Which left thoughts about Casey. Which made him want to throw up more.

  Summer ran into the bathroom, coming back with his small trashcan, and set it between his feet, sitting herself on the coffee table to watch him.

  He emptied the contents of his stomach into the small plastic receptacle, groaning with pain at each heave, and Summer put it on the porch, then went into the kitchen for a glass of water and some Motrin.

  “Vomiting is a sign of brain swelling…” Summer said quietly. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

  “No. It’s not the concussion.” Brent took the offered pills and swallowed the glass of water. “I sat here for four hours after Casey left and the Tylenol wore off.”

  Nothing felt fine anymore. He’d had fractured ribs, and concussions, though not at the same time. He worked with horses, he had for years. It came with the territory. What was wrong with him had everything to do with Casey.

  “What happened with Casey?” Summer repeated herself, but this time she rested her hand on his arm sympathetically.

  “I’m not sure.” He tried to stand, but still couldn’t do it by himself without pain radiating like a mushroom cloud through his chest. Summer tried, but her five foot nothing frame couldn’t do much with his six foot three musculature. Collapsing back onto the couch with a groan, he continued. “Just leave me here. Put the medicine on the table with some water and bring a blanket. I’ll get up eventually, or I won’t.”