Addiction

by Angela McPherson

  I texted him instead. What's wrong? Miss you too.

  Yeah, I should catch Alyssa up on my and Tristan's relationship. Smiling like a goofball, I teased her instead.

  Let me know when you get back from wherever you're vacationing this year. Lot's to tell ya ;)

  Alyssa was snappy today. You're an ass… better have made me proud ;) Ha! Talk to ya soon <3

  Typical of her.

  Tristan messaged me back. I love you…what are u wearing???

  My face flamed, especially after reading Alyssa's text. I headed toward Mom while messaging him back. My fingers stumbled over the keys, and I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. My pulse skipped thinking about him reading my reply. I love you more and I'm wearing… I hit send when I reached the kitchen, finding my mom getting ready to bake her pies. My stomach growled.

  "Hey, Mom."

  She turned with a wide smile. Mom, Heather, and I all looked so much alike, even down to the color of our eyes. Though, Mom had lost weight and dark circles sagged under her eyes.

  "I'm glad you made it home." She arched a brow and placed her hand on her hip. "When were you planning to tell me about you and Tristan?"

  What?

  "Um, I haven't really told anyone."

  She tilted her head and glared with charged green eyes.

  Did I look like I'd just had sex? Oh, God. All mothers had this crazy, psychic intuition. I should've, I don't know, frowned more or acted mopey. How in the hell had Heather gotten away with all the shit she'd done over the years? Wait. I was overthinking this. Besides, I was an adult… who also hated disappointing anyone.

  "We just started dating, Mom."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just be careful, and finish college."

  My mouth popped open. She focused her attention on the pies, changing the subject. "Your sister said she'd get in late this evening. I wanted to make sure we had her favorite pie ready." She picked up her rolling pin and turned around. I didn't know if I should run or not. Being too scared, regardless of the fact that I was in college, I stayed where I was. "Are you going to help?"

  I nodded.

  "Good. Wash your hands."

  "Yes, ma'am." I walked to the sink, nearly tripping over my feet on the way. When I finished, I dusted the counter with flour.

  "Be sure to flour your hands. The other rolling pin is in the cabinet to your right."

  I frowned, confused. Why had she moved stuff around?

  Without looking at me, she shrugged her shoulders. "I reorganize when I'm worried about you or your sister." She looked over at me, a sad smile spreading on her face. "Your sister's room has been painted a handful of times and furniture has been moved all over the place in the last five years."

  My mouth opened, but I lost my ability to speak. I recalled the first time home from college, my room had been completely redecorated. Wow, funny that I never noticed.

  "Is that why my room got a makeover when I went away to college?"

  She ignored me. Instead, she cracked eggs in a bowl.

  "Hello? Mom?"

  She picked up her whisk and before beating the eggs, turned to me. "You may not think that I worry about you two, but I do." She averted her eyes back to the bowl. "There's a lot you don't know, Elle… things you and your sister weren't told because I wanted to protect you girls."

  This time when she looked up, the worry in her eyes made her appear years older. "I may not have been the best mother, but I've always loved you. Both of you."

  I stared. Mom cleared her throat, washing away all signs of emotion. "Get back to work. I want these done by the time your sister gets home."

  A few minutes later, we fell into comfortable silence working together. My thoughts continued. Everything in our house had a place, dishes, towels, and so on. Not as psychotic as the guy in Sleeping With the Enemy, but she was seriously hardcore about stupid shit. She always knew when something was out of place. Pair that with her inability to face life and you got a pretty frustrating childhood.

  I glanced over at her rolling dough. Maybe Mom really was changing after all.

  Tristan

  The farther I drove from Elle, the more agitated I became. An emptiness in the pit of my stomach nagged at me. Not something I'd expected. We'd finally closed the gap separating us–about fucking time–but damn, if I didn't miss her.

  One night. I could manage sleeping without her warm body next to mine for that long, right? Who in the hell was I kidding. Tonight was going to suck ass.

  When I pulled up to my parents' house, I debated whether or not I should back out of the driveway. Dammit. Had my mom not opened the front door and waved me in, I would have. Instead, I shifted my car into park and got out.

  "Hey, Mom. You look good." I bent forward and kissed her cheek. When I backed away, she tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes. "What?"

  She shook her head and smiled. "Nothing. You just look… happy."

  Mmm. The sated look on Elle's face after our third round of making love filtered through my mind. Yeah, happy was an understatement. An immediate throbbing pulsed against the front of my jeans. I sucked in air through gritted teeth, attempting to turn off the arousing images flashing my mind.

  "I am, Mom."

  Like a crazy woman, she smacked my chest with the dishtowel she held in her hand.

  "Hey, what was that for?"

  "Just, don't mess up." She spun on her heels and walked into the house, mumbling under her breath. What the hell? Women, I didn't understand them. Reluctantly, I followed her inside and then closed the front door.

  The amazing smell from Mom's baking lured me to the kitchen. I hurried over to the island of baked goods, grabbing my favorite. Fresh, hot chocolate chip cookies melted in my mouth. I was about to scarf down another when my phone buzzed.

  I opened Elle's text. Her sister was coming home. My jaw clenched, and I gnashed my teeth together. I mean, the only thing I wanted was for Elle to be happy. But fuck, her sister leaving rehab early worried the shit out of me. I also needed to talk to Elle, tell her about helping Heather get into rehab before she found out from someone else.

  "I expect to see Elle before you two head back to school. Speaking of, when are you planning to go back?"

  I finished my text to Elle. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be sure to let her know when I talk to her later. And we're leaving tomorrow after dinner."

  Mom turned around, arms crossed over her chest, scowling at me. What the hell did I do this time?

  "Your dad should be back any minute from picking up your aunt and uncle and the kids from the airport. He misses you, so try not to argue… since you're in such a rush to get back."

  Go figure she'd bring him up. I replied with a tightlipped smile. "Okay." After my football injury, I couldn't get a good read on my dad. He'd seemed concerned, anxious even. I could expect him to be a dick, anything else made me suspicious.

  She sighed, shaking her head. "How's your shoulder?"

  I shrugged, thankful she didn't carry on about Dad. "Good. Doc suggested I get in some physical therapy before I went back to playing full time." Which sucked ass in the beginning, but turned out to be helpful. Thanks to Elle.

  "If you're still serious about playing professional football after graduation, I'd suggest you follow your doctor's orders."

  I cracked a grin. She always worried about me.

  "Yeah, Elle pretty much told me the same thing."

  When Elle drove me to my first follow-up appointment, she'd spent the night before researching shit like serious concussions and how long it took for a broken collarbone to heal properly. I told her either way they took too fucking long. She didn't think I'd been funny and frowned adorably back at me.

  To be honest, everything she did was adorable and incredibly sexy, which only fueled my need for her even more.

  Mom grinned. "So, you and Elle together?"

  I rubbed the back of my neck, smiling like an idiot. Fuck it. I wanted everyone to know she was mine. Final
ly.

  "Yes, ma'am. I can't imagine being with any other woman." My stomach knotted. "Mom… I love her. She's it for me."

  Mom looked me over, her expression stern. My stomach twisted tighter and my shoulders drew up with tension. I hadn't realized how much I wanted my mom's approval until that moment. That squinty-eyed look always made me squirm, but then her face softened and she smiled, letting me off the hook.

  "I'd have to say it's about damn time, son."

  I laughed the nervousness away. The strain in my shoulders relaxed. I let out a whoosh of air.

  "Thanks, Mom."

  Some of the seriousness came back.

  "I'm happy for you both, but I want…," she paused. "Just be safe." Her brow lifted.

  "Yes, ma'am." About that time, the front door opened. Never in my life had I been more thrilled to see my dad.

  Heather

  I'd eaten a package of chocolate covered doughnuts, a box of junior mints, and drank two Cokes since the plane landed. Apparently I was looking to be a fat ass. I ate like a damn elephant. Stupid antidepressants. My stomach was a bottomless pit, all the time.

  I snatched a taxi, using the last five bucks in my pocket to take me as far it would go. The yellow cab dropped me off on the other side of the tracks, about a six or so mile hike from my house. I needed to clear my head and walked home instead of calling Mom or Elle to pick me up. Since Dad bumped my flight up a couple hours, they wouldn't expect me for at least another hour.

  My hands shook something terrible. The wintery wind cooled my heated skin. I probably looked like a popsicle. Truthfully, I welcomed the cold. It helped keep my mind from wondering… from thinking. Highs and lows of getting clean is what they called it in rehab.

  I had my shit pretty under control, until the familiar snuck up on me. Like a ninja, the stench of oil, stale beer and smoke, and exhaust fumes hit me. My pulse jumped. My brain immediately registered what it'd been missing. Craving. Carefully, I glanced around my old troublemaking neighborhood. Maybe my feet had carried me here from past experience.

  I stood across the street in a part of town no one talked about, at least not unless they wanted a taste of heaven while trapped in hell. Gotta love being an addict.

  I secured my hoodie over my head to keep my face hidden on the off chance someone would recognize me. The thought immediately sent a rush of euphoria through my body. I involuntarily licked my lips, my heart thumping faster. Adrenaline pumped through my veins with anticipation. The slurping sound the plunger made while sucking up heated heroin, followed by tapping the syringe to clear out any bubbles inside weaseled its way in my mind.

  I stopped on the side of the road and bent over, my breathing coming in and out fast. My vision blurred. I remembered the first time I'd injected heroin. The sharp, cold, stainless steel needle piercing through flesh and then finding its way to my vein. The memory soaked across my skin like a warm bath on a freezing day. The immediate gratification lifted me above the clouds. The shit in my head vanished. My worries became nothing more than a faraway nightmare.

  My feet stumbled across the graveled road.

  Step.

  No, I can do this.

  Another step, but my legs wobbled. God, help me get through this shit. My cheeks flamed hotter, and I swatted my hood off my head for air.

  Breathe.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I nearly dropped the damn thing before hitting talk.

  "Hey, kiddo." Tristan's voice sounded distant.

  I swallowed hard.

  "Heather?"

  His voice slowly drifted closer. The heatwave decreased, though my heart still beat like a stampede of wild animals racing for the only water supply in a desert.

  "Yup, I'm here," I managed.

  Another breath.

  My hearing came into focus. Tires screeching and horns sounded in the distance down the road.

  "You okay?" Tristan's voice echoed in my head, creating insta-tears in my eyes.

  "Yeah, I'm all good. I'm in town. Should be home in thirty or forty-five minutes." A car whizzed past, blowing a chunk of hair in my face.

  "Okay. Well, I, uh, wanted to check on you. See if you needed anything."

  Step.

  "Nah, I'm good." The crazy beats in my chest settled into a normal rhythm. "Hey, can you talk for a few more minutes?"

  "Uh, sure. No problem."

  "Thanks." I picked up my pace, wanting to get the hell away from where I was. Unfortunately my appetite for disaster peaked as I walked past a shack of a house. The faint, yet distinct scent of a dealer cooking billowed in the wind. Temptation literally knocked my ass on the ground. I swallowed the twisting pain in my gut and picked myself up from the rocky road. I hightailed it down the street. A few minutes later, I heard Tristan's voice in my ear.

  "Are you walking?"

  I smiled, slowly coming back around.

  "Yeah, I wanted to clear my head before going home."

  "That's gotta be a good twenty miles. Where are you at?"

  "I'm not telling. Just stay on the phone while I walk. Actually, we don't even have to talk." I blew out a breath of cold air, forming a white puff of smoke in front of me.

  "All right. I'm here."

  I shook my head, tears falling down my cheeks for the second time today. He was always there. Fucking Super Tristan.

  Elle

  While pies and cookies baked, Mom asked questions nonstop about my relationship with Tristan. She wanted Every. Freaking. Detail. When she finished drilling me, she moved on to other weird, off-the-wall topics like working charity events alongside Tristan's mom. The two of them being civil to each other would make life so much easier. Win, win in my book, so I indulged her.

  Thing is, this wasn't her norm. She didn't fuss over me. Ever. But something seemed different this time. Thinking about it, even talking to her over the phone these past few months, well, she'd been more attentive. She'd ask about my life and sound genuinely interested in my responses rather than brush me off. Used to be she'd only want to know if I'd heard or seen Heather. Honestly, I preferred her like this, motherly. It was a nice change, regardless of how long she took to step up to the task.

  When the pies were done, Mom and I left them to cool in the oven while we waited for Heather. However, Mom couldn't sit still and quite frankly, her busybody wondering made me nervous.

  Heated brown sugar and kayo syrup wafted through the air. My mouth watered and my stomach growled. I scanned the room hoping to find something to keep her mind off things. I noticed how scarce our house looked. We used to decorate to the nines, but not so much anymore. An idea hit me.

  "Hey, Mom. Why don't we get out all those Christmas decorations from when we were kids? You know, get the house all dolled up before Heather makes it in?"

  Mom stopped rearranging the dishes in the cupboards and smiled. "That's a great idea. Your sister will love it."

  Christmas used to be a big deal when Mom and Dad were together, but after their divorce, the season didn't hold too many good memories.

  Ten years ago, Heather and I would wake up and rush down the stairs to open presents with smiles as big as an open sky. The night before, we'd fall asleep listening to the recurring fighting between our parents down the hall. But knew in a few hours, it'd be Christmas, the one day of the year when they wouldn't argue. We knew it was just the day, but we cherished every minute of it. The only time we acted like a real family.

  We couldn't have been more wrong. Down the stairs, Heather hurried to the tree, but I couldn't. I found Mom sitting on the couch, her eyes glossed from tears while clutching a stack of white papers to her chest. I was old enough to know something was wrong. Mom always had two pecan pies baking by the time we woke up. The warm, bubbling aroma wasn't there.

  That day, Heather and I were greeted with a type of pain we didn't realize would have such an impact on us until today.

  That was the day our dad left, our mom shut us out and our lives fell apart. More than anything, I w
anted this holiday to be perfect. Heather, Mom, and I deserved a little tranquility from the bleak misery our disheveled lives had turned into.

  An hour or so later, and our house felt like Christmas time again. I couldn't believe Heather would be here to celebrate, especially after being gone for so long. It helped with the ambiance of it, too.

  "Elle, can you grab the extra garland to drape around–" The front door opened and closed, and Mom paused.

  I spun around.

  Heather.

  I did a quick visual onceover. Her clothes hung from her thin, frail frame, but no recent track marks marred her bare forearms. To my surprise, her usual long brown, flowing hair had been cut into a cute bob. The new hairstyle made her look older, sophisticated.

  When my gaze reached her doe-shaped eyes, my emotions got the better of me. Not only did the same deep green peer back at me, but they shined bright instead of the dull and dead haze from being high.

  Tears fell down my cheeks, and from the sniffling sound coming from behind me, I knew Mom was doing the same. Heather broke eye contact and scanned the room.

  "Wow. Y'all really outdid yourselves. Looks like an elf threw up in here."

  Mom and I glanced at each other and then back to Heather. At the same time, the three of us broke into a fit of laughter. Within seconds, we all moved to embrace with a tight hug.

  We held onto each other for several minutes, which didn't bother me. I wanted to sear this into my memory forever.

  Heather pulled away first.

  "So, I'm kind of starved, and if memory serves right, that great smell is pecan pie?"

  Mom wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Yes, your sister and I made an extra for you. Let's go grab a slice."

  We followed Mom to the kitchen, hugging each other. Once inside, Heather grabbed the pan and went to town. I swear she ate half the pie before taking a breath.

  Just like when we were kids, Mom poured us a tall glass of ice-cold milk. "Make sure to finish your milk before you leave the table." She walked out of the kitchen. Heather and I traded glances.