Possession (Texas Titans #8)

by Cheryl Douglas

  “What is it?” she whispered, standing beside him. “If there isn’t someone else, what could be so terrible that you can’t tell me?”

  He hated that he’d made her question his faithfulness, but she had every reason to wonder. If he’d been in her shoes, he would have asked the same questions. “It’s complicated, Soph.” He knew she deserved more, but the explanation she needed got stuck in his throat, trapped by fear.

  “That’s what people say when they’re afraid of the truth.” She walked a few steps down the cobblestone path leading to the pool, putting more distance between them. “I’m not afraid of the truth.”

  You would be if you knew you’d fallen in love with a drug addict. He hated to categorize himself that way, but he knew those are the words the professionals would use to describe his… problem.

  She turned to face him, her chin tilting up as her eyes met his under the glow of the lanterns lining the walkway. “Are you?”

  “Am I afraid?” He swallowed, wishing he could find the strength to be as fearless as he’d been all those years on the football field. No matter how big, mean, or determined his opponent was, no one got in his way. But the reality of disappointing the woman he loved instilled fear in him unlike anything he’d ever experienced. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “Of what?” she asked, her voice breaking as the desperation crept in. “Are you afraid of this?” she asked, gesturing back and forth between them. “Of what we have? If it’s getting too serious, if the thought of buying the cottage with me is to too much-”

  “No.” He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?” She crossed her arms as a shiver made her tremble. “Please, just tell me.”

  The seconds dragged on as she stared at him, waiting for answers he couldn’t give. “I’m just not ready to talk about it, Soph. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… can’t.” He closed his eyes to the pain in hers, wishing he could take her in his arms and make her forget her doubts.

  “So I’m supposed to… what? Just forget about the fact that you’re keeping secrets from me?” She angrily brushed away the tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m supposed to pretend that everything’s fine when I know you don’t trust me enough to be honest with me?”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” He ran a hand over his head as his gut twisted with apprehension. The words were there, on the tip of his tongue, but when he imagined her disgusted reaction to his news that he couldn’t make it through a day without popping pills, he couldn’t force them past his lips, no matter how hard he tried. “I do trust you. I just can’t do this right now.”

  “You can’t do this right now?” she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. “Earlier today we were talking about buying a place together, building a life together. Now you’re telling me you can’t even talk to me about whatever’s eating you up inside.” Her hands shielded her face before she finally looked up at him, asking, “So now what?”

  “Just give me a little more time.” He wanted to believe he could kick the habit on his own. Starting tomorrow, he’d try, harder than he ever had before. Maybe if he told her about it after he had the problem licked, it wouldn’t sound as bad to her.

  “How much time?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Days? Weeks? Months? How long do I have to wait before you tell me this big secret of yours, Dalton?”

  He hated that look of contempt in her beautiful eyes, but he couldn’t blame her. It would kill him knowing she couldn’t confide him. “I know I’m asking a lot, but just give me a few weeks. We’ll talk about it after the wedding.” When she didn’t say anything, he risked a step closer. “Please, sweetheart. Just give me that much.”

  She glanced up, her eyes swimming with tears as her expression revealed how much he’d already hurt and disappointed her. “Fine, if that’s what you want, take all the time you need. Just don’t ask me to pick up where we left off when you’re finally ready to be honest.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie and Jeremy were the only two remaining in the boardroom after their meeting with new suppliers.

  “I thought that went well, didn’t you?” Jeremy asked, reaching across the table for his coffee cup. “One of the main problems has always been your material costs. If we can shave 20%, the profit margin will increase significantly, even when you factor in-”

  Sophie looked up when she realized he’d stopped talking. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “You were drifting in and out like that during the meeting, too,” Jeremy said, his words laced with frustration. “What the hell’s up with you? Your visit home didn’t go well?”

  “It did,” she said, determined to keep her personal life out of the boardroom. “In fact, it helped me to clarify some things.” In spite of her problems with Dalton, she was still determined to talk to Jeremy about their partnership agreement and she would buy the cottage, without Dalton’s name on the dotted line, as Shy suggested.

  “I’m intrigued,” Jeremy said, leaning back in his leather swivel chair. “What conclusions have you come to?”

  “I’m a designer,” she said, leaning forward and folding her hands on the tabletop. “That’s what I do best.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “I was so passionate about this business in the beginning because I spent most of my time creating new pieces.” She smiled, for the first time in days, or so it seemed. “They were different, unlike anything else, and I loved that I was able to bring something totally unique to the marketplace.”

  “That’s what we all strive to do as designers,” Jeremy said, inclining his head. “Break the mold. You’ve certainly done that with your designs.”

  “Thank you.” She already knew how Jeremy felt about her work, but she would never tire of hearing it. “After visiting the studio this weekend, I realized that’s where I belong.”

  “At the studio?” Jeremy asked, frowning.

  “Yes.” She understood his confusion and amended, “At least part of the time. The rest of the time I need to focus on the designs, creating the prototypes with my own two hands, sourcing new materials.” When she realized she was at risk of babbling, she added, “That’s what I want to do.”

  “What about the business end of things?” he asked, leaning forward to meet her half-way across the table. “The sales and marketing, mass production, dealing with customers, suppliers, staffing issues-”

  “That’s your wheelhouse,” she said, raising her hand. “It’s what you do best. Or at least you know the right people.”

  “What are you saying?” Jeremy asked.

  After a deep sigh, she said, “I’d like to restructure our partnership agreement. I’d like you to be responsible for all of the things you just mentioned while I handle all of the things I outlined. And I’d like to do my part from Arlington.”

  He seemed to consider her proposition for a few moments before he said, “You realize you’d have to give me complete autonomy to handle things? That’s the only way it could work.”

  “I understand.” She trusted Jeremy’s business acumen. She never would have entered into this agreement otherwise. “So?” she asked, offering her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  Nodding slowly, Jeremy slipped his hand in hers. “Yes, I think we could make this work.”

  ***

  The last two people Dalton wanted to see this morning were his father and sister, but given the way his day was shaping up he couldn’t pretend he was surprised they’d shown up. “What can I do for you guys?”

  “We were hoping you could spare us a few minutes?” Sabrina said, leading their father into the office.

  “What’s on your mind?” Dalton asked, shutting his computer down before turning to face them.

  “Dad knows,” Sabrina said as she claimed the chair across from Dalton. “Don’t hate me.” Her eyes were wide, pleading for understanding. “You know how much I love you. I was worried about you. I had to talk to som
eone about it. I couldn’t just stand by and watch you do this to yourself.”

  Sabrina hadn’t come out and said she’d told their father about his drug use, but he knew that’s what she was referring to. The little traitor! How dare she talk to their old man about his personal issue? “I told you,” he said between clenched teeth, “I have everything under control. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Really?” she asked, raising her quivering chin. “When was the last time you took one of those things?” She pointed to the desk drawer as though she’d guessed that’s where he’d locked his stash. “Today? Yesterday?”

  When he simply glared at her, ignoring their father’s contemptuous look, she broke down.

  “I know you went to Vegas with the boys this weekend,” Sabrina said. “You can’t tell me you weren’t mixing alcohol with those pills, Dalton.”

  He hadn’t been, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him so he didn’t even bother trying to defend himself.

  “Do you know how dangerous that is?” she cried, taking his silence for an admission of guilt. “I talked to a doctor about it and he said-”

  “You what?” Dalton asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. “How many other people have you talked to about this, Sabrina?” He slammed his fist down on the desk. “Does the whole goddamn world know your brother is a drug addict?”

  “That’s enough!” His father drew a deep breath, squaring his broad shoulders. “This is still a place of business and our entire staff doesn’t need to know what you’re dealing with.”

  Dalton looked at his father, not even trying to hide his disdain. He shouldn’t be surprised the old man was more concerned about appearances than he was about him. “You don’t seem surprised. I guess that’s because you always knew I was a screw-up, huh? If not for football, I might have ended up waiting tables or washing cars. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  “You know I said that in a fit of rage,” his father said, looking chagrined. “You were eighteen.” He smirked slightly before running a shaky hand over his thick silver hair. “You were as stubborn as a mule, pushing my buttons every chance you got. We fought night and day. Sure I said things I wish I could take back. You’ll understand when you have a son of your own.”

  Speaking of children made him think of Sophie and the family they may never have.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Arguing with his father and sister didn’t make him feel better, but he had to take his frustration out on someone. Skipping the first pill that morning had been more of a challenge than he thought it would be and he was already climbing the walls trying to deal with the pain, not to mention the withdrawal symptoms.

  “We’re here because we care about you,” his father said, lacing his hands over his mid-section as he leaned back in his chair. “More than you care about yourself, apparently.”

  Dalton was not in the mood to be chastised for the choices he’d made. No one was more disgusted with him than he was with himself at the moment. “You don’t know shit about dealing with physical pain,” Dalton seethed, glaring at his father. “You sat your ass in this cushy chair for years while I was getting pummeled on the football field. Broken bones, dislocated shoulders, strains, sprains, concussions, you name it, I had it.”

  “Went with the territory,” Thomas said, waving him off with a dismissive hand. “You knew that when you signed on for it. Your mother tried having the talk with you in middle school, when you first took an interest in the sport. She told you how dangerous it was, showed you the reports about players who wound up in wheelchairs because of freak injuries, but you were determined. That was the life you wanted so I told her we had to support you, and for the record, I’ve never regretted it.”

  Dalton had no regrets either. In spite of the mess he’d landed in, he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. He would just find a better way to deal with the pain. Acupuncture or water therapy, maybe. Anything but the pain relievers that now owned him.

  “You got to do what you loved,” Thomas said, leaning forward as he fixed his son with a practiced glare. “How many people can say that?” When Dalton ignored the question he added, “You were a goddamn superstar. You’ve got the rings. You’re a Hall of Famer. You have the memories and the reputation as a legend in the sport. Do you want to protect your legacy or do you want to be remembered by your fans as another washed up player who turned to drugs when he couldn’t come to terms with the end of his career?”

  Dalton knew his father was trying to goad him into taking action he wasn’t ready to take and it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t the teenager Thomas had easily manipulated with a new car or vacation with friends when he promised to toe the line.

  “It’s your choice, Dalton,” Thomas said. “You worked your butt off to be the best. Now you have another tough decision to make. Are you going to let this control you or are you going to take control?”

  His father was doing what he always did, issuing a challenge he knew his son would be hard pressed to walk away from. “This is my life,” he said, sliding his gaze to include his sister. “And my decision.” His expression softened when her eyes filled with tears. “I know you’re worried about me,” he said to Sabrina. “But you don’t have to be. You have your own family to take care of now, sis. I’ve got this.”

  “Do you?” Sabrina asked, looking unsure. “When was the last time you took one of those things?”

  “I said I’ve got it under control,” he said, refusing to admit he hadn’t gone a full day without a pill yet. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “I’ve seen too many athletes succumb to this son,” Thomas said, touching his daughter’s forearm. “They all think they can handle it on their own, but eventually they realize they need help.”

  “I don’t need help,” Dalton said, firmly.

  Thomas sighed. “I know of a great facility in-”

  “Aren’t you listening to me? I said I don’t need re-hab.” He took the bottle of pills out of his desk and tossed them at his father’s chest. “There. Happy now?” he asked, when Thomas caught them.

  “How naïve do you think I am?” Thomas asked, glancing at the name printed on the bottle. “I know for guys like you these are as easy to come by as candy bars. You make one phone call and can pick up another prescription within the hour.”

  Dalton knew his father wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t insult his intelligence by denying his claim.

  “Not to mention the stash I’m sure you have at home.”

  “You want to come to my house and raid by underwear drawer now?” Dalton asked, rolling his eyes. “This is worse than the time you thought I was taking weed and turned my room upside down looking for it. You were off base then and you’re off base now so back the hell off.”

  “I was trying to protect you back then,” Thomas said, tightening his fist around the plastic bottle. “You were just a kid, prone to making stupid mistakes, like every teenager does. I didn’t want to see you throw your future away for a cheap high.”

  “And I didn’t,” Dalton said, trying to put himself in his father’s position. The old man could be a tyrant, but Dalton knew his heart was in the right place. When it came down to it, he did love his family. “I held it together. Not because you told me to, but because I knew what was at stake. And I know what’s at stake now.”

  “Do you?” Sabrina asked. “What about Sophie? Does she know about this?”

  “Don’t,” Dalton warned, raising his finger. “Don’t bring her into this.”

  “She’s in love with you,” Sabrina said, softly. “She may not have told me in so many words, but I can see it in her eyes when she talks about you. I’ve seen it when the two of you are together.”

  “What I have with Sophie is none of your business.” Dalton knew how head-strong his sister could be. When she’d made up her mind about something, nothing could de-rail her.

  “Sophie’s my friend and you’re my brother. That makes it my business.”
When he closed his eyes instead of responding, she said, “So you haven’t told her about this, have you? How can you keep this from her?”

  “How can I not?” he shouted. “You think a girl like Sophie is going to waste her time on a goddamn junkie?”

  “You’re not a junkie,” his father said, quietly. “I blame the doctor who got you hooked on these things, the coaches who looked the other way, the trainers and therapists who should have intervened when they found out you weren’t just using, but abusing. But no, they wouldn’t do that because they couldn’t stand to lose one of their star players. They needed you. The team needed you.”

  “This isn’t their fault,” Dalton said, covering his mouth with his hand while he collected his thoughts. “No one held a gun to my head and made me take them. I did that to myself.”

  “It was the only way for you to deal with the pain. You couldn’t afford to take the time off to have surgery and recuperate. You were already at the end of your career. No one could blame you for not wanting to go out like that.”

  Dalton never expected his father’s understanding so he appreciated it all the more when it came. “Thank you.”

  “No one blames you for this, son. We understand how it happened. We just want you to get help.”

  “I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

  “Please,” Thomas said. “Get the surgery. Take the time to recover, both physically and mentally. I’ll be here to hold down the fort.”

  Dalton had never heard his father plead before and it touched him, reminding him of all the people he was hurting. “I’ll think about it,” he promised them.

  It wasn’t the surgery that scared him. It wasn’t even the pain. That he could deal with. It was the prospect of losing himself to drugs and having to admit to himself and the world that he was a broken man.

  ***

  Dalton sat across from the orthopedic surgeon later that day listening to the same spiel he’d heard half a dozen times before.