by Kacey Shea
“You didn’t fucking say that!” His shout reverberates, pounding around in my skull. He steps to the edge of the couch, towering over me. I hate how he always feels the need to control things. Fix things. I didn’t ask for his help. Didn’t ask him to come here. Even now, he looks down on me, and I feel every bit the piece of shit I am.
I push to my feet, rising to my full frame and knocking him back a step to meet his stare. “Cam, go home.” Back to your perfect fucking family. Away from the black sheep of a brother. We’re not even related, not by blood. I’ve disappointed everyone who ever cared about me, and while Cam sticks around, it’s probably more out of obligation than concern. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No.” He scoffs. “You need rehab.”
My jaw locks as I meet his gaze. “Don’t be dramatic.”
His fist comes quick. I feel the strike to my gut long before I process the incoming punch.
“The fuck!” I bend over, hands on my knees as I try not to puke or drop to the ground.
“That hurt?”
“Yeah, it fucking hurt!” My gaze snaps up and I glare. I blow out a long breath before straightening my spine.
“Good.”
But it must not be good enough, because he swings again, this time hitting me in the side so hard actual tears spring into my eyes. “Cam! The hell?”
“That’s what it feels like every time my damn phone rings.” My brother’s obviously gone insane.
I rub at my side. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Let me spell it out for you.” The break in his voice demands my full attention. His jaw ticks, his lips pressing together so tightly they almost turn white. “I’m literally waiting for someone to call to tell me my brother’s flipped his car again, or is passed out in some bar, or worse.” The implication to his words stretches between us. “I don’t want you around Kenz anymore.”
That sobers me right the fuck up. “What?”
“You need to pull your shit together. She doesn’t need to see her uncle. Not if he’s gonna throw away his life like this.”
He’s right. It’s the most sobering thought I’ve had in weeks, but I still don’t like it. “So, what? You’re gonna keep her from me forever?” I can’t imagine a life without my niece. She’s one of the good things in this world.
“If I have to, yeah.”
I clench my jaw and close my eyes. I hate him. I hate that he’s doing this, and also that part of me doesn’t care. I deserve this and worse. But most of all, I hate myself. “Right. Then you should go.”
“I can’t.” His jaw works back and forth, as if he’d like to say more.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m probably still drunk, or that my head is pounding, but I can’t come up with one good reason why he’s still here. “What do you mean?”
Cam doesn’t attempt to hide the sneer on his face. “Today’s your sentencing.”
Oh. That.
My stomach lurches when I picture Maverick on that dreadful night, his body crumpled and broken after being thrown from the wreckage. Blood everywhere. Fuck. I don’t have time to make it to the bathroom. Dropping to my knees, I empty the contents of my stomach right in the middle of my living room floor.
“Shit!” Cam jumps back, but not before puke splashes the tips of his shoes. He walks down the hall and returns a few minutes later with a wet cloth. He wipes my mouth and I feel even more pathetic. He reaches out a hand. “Think you can stand?”
I swallow back the acidic taste in my mouth. Without glancing up, I take my brother’s hand and pull myself onto shaky legs. He holds out the small towel, and I wipe most of the mess from my clothes.
“Come on.” He clasps me on the shoulder. “Let’s get you in the shower. I’ll clean this up.”
I’m a loser. Pathetic. A fucking coward. I can’t even bring myself to meet his gaze. “Thank you.” The sentiment leaves my mouth so softly, I’m not sure he hears.
“We’ll get through this. You’ll be okay.”
I’ve always looked up to Cam. From the moment his mom married my dad, he’s taken care of me. He made sure no one picked on me when I was little. Slapped me upside the head when I did stupid shit as a teenager. Mentored me when I first joined the department. He even looked past the stuff that happened with his sister. But this time, I really fucked up.
You’ll be okay.
I want to believe him. I do. But some sins are unforgiveable. Salvation isn’t for a damned soul like mine.
Besides, how do I move on after paralyzing my friend?
6
Alicia
“Should we order without her?” Callie says, glancing at the door while I check my phone for the third time. Jill is not one to be late, and we’ve planned this lunch around her schedule. Today is the only day we could all meet before I leave next week.
“She’s probably on her way.” I try not to worry, and reason why she’s not answering us. “You know she won’t look at her phone when she’s driving.”
“You’re right,” she says, her frown relaxing a little at my words. I think we’re all a little on edge after everything that’s happened. “Are your parents throwing you a good-bye brunch?”
“You know they are.” I roll my eyes. “It’ll just be the immediate fam.”
“Is that good or bad?” Callie winces.
I laugh. “I don’t know.” My cousins, aunts, and uncles would provide distractions, but then everyone would be on my case.
“They’re still not happy with you?”
“They just don’t get it.” Understatement of the year.
“Well, I’m proud of you.” She smiles. “Even if I will miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you, too.”
“I’m one phone call or text away,” she says, picking up her menu. “And I hope you’re prepared for us to continue to harass you throughout the day.”
“I may need to hide my phone.” I grin, picturing a group of teens catching a glimpse of our ridiculous antics.
“With Jill’s profanity, that’s probably smart.”
“Sorry, I’m here. I’m here.” Jill plops down onto the empty seat at my left, her hair and clothes as frazzled as she appears.
“Everything okay?” Callie asks and slides over a glass of water.
“I was working from home this morning but Cam got home as I was leaving and . . .” She shakes her head and takes a sip of water before leaning back into her chair with a sigh. “I think he needed to talk before picking up Chase. Things have been so bad. He was really torn up. Anyway, I’m sorry I’m late.”
“The sentencing’s today?” I ask. It’s still hard to believe what Chase did. Getting drunk? That was a norm. But driving afterward? As a first responder, he knows damn well the potential for tragedy. He could’ve killed someone. Paralyzing one of his co-workers is horrific enough, but mostly it bothers me because it’s something I could’ve done. I can’t imagine the level of guilt he’s dealing with.
“Yeah, Cam promised to keep me posted.” She bites the inside of her cheek and shrugs. “I don’t know what to hope for, you know?”
“Is Chase doing any better?” Callie asks.
“Cam took the day off to make sure he shows.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “By the talk at the station, he hasn’t eased off the drinking one bit.”
“You ladies ready to order or should I come back?” our server interrupts. We take a moment to place our requests, a grilled chicken salad for me, burgers for each of my friends, and a round of sodas because Callie and Jill are awesome and often join me in my non-alcoholic beverage choices.
“How’s his friend?” I ask as soon as the server leaves.
Jill pales, her jaw moving side to side before she answers. “They moved him to a rehab facility this week, but he’ll never walk again.”
“Damn.” I swear under my breath.
“Didn’t he just get engaged?” Callie asks, her voice thick with the same anguish we all feel.
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“A few months ago, yeah.” Jill nods. “Cam said they found him forty feet from where they flipped the vehicle. Wasn’t wearing his seat belt. Can you even imagine? He’s lucky to be alive, but fuck.”
My stomach rolls at the thought of such loss. Of this guy’s poor fiancée and the mountain of trials awaiting them both.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Jill says. “I need some good news. Tell me one of you has good news.”
“I’m all packed for Wednesday,” I say, folding my hands on the table. “Mostly anyway.”
“I can’t believe you’re leaving in five days,” Jill says. “Are you nervous?”
“Absolutely. But it’s a good nervous.” I grin. “Well, except for the living situation.” They’ve already listened to me rant about the dorm-style living I’ll be enduring.
Callie chuckles. “You’re gonna miss your walk-in closet, aren’t you?”
I cover my face. “Don’t make me cry.”
“How big is your moving van?” Jill teases. “Are you renting a trailer? Or hiring a relocation specialist.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t hold in my grin. “I’m taking my car.”
“How?” Callie shakes her head. “Will your stuff even fit?”
“That’s what she said.” Jill grins.
“Ugh,” I groan dramatically. “I narrowed it down to six pairs of shoes.”
“It’ll be okay. You can do hard things.” Jill pats my shoulder. She’s making a joke, but it’s the truth. I’ve realized just how strong I am over the last few months and I’m filled with a sense of pride. These two continue to support and love me, even when it takes me away for the summer. Even when I mourn the absence of material possessions because not having my full wardrobe really does make me want to cry. They accept me, all the messy and complicated parts. I can’t imagine a life when I don’t have them on my team, and thankfully I don’t have to.
7
Chase
I scrub away two days’ worth of grime in the shower but it doesn’t make much of a difference. When I step out I still can’t meet my own eyes in the mirror’s reflection. My body is clean but my soul is dirty and weighed down with regret. Guilt. Shame.
It’s time to face the repercussions for what I did, but nothing the judge demands will erase it. Nothing can make up for what I took from Maverick.
Dressed in my nicest pair of slacks and a button-up shirt that could use a good ironing, I drag my ass out to the living room. At the end of the hallway I stop short. What the hell? The heavy scent of bleach hangs in the air, and gone is the clutter and trash that decorated every surface. Everything’s clean. Even the couch cushions seem to stand taller.
The sound of a running faucet leads me to the kitchen. There I find my brother pressing buttons on the dishwasher. His gaze lifts and he cuts the water, giving my outfit a once over. His slight nod is the only affirmation I receive.
“You do all this?”
He shrugs. “The place looked like shit.”
“You’re probably glad you don’t live here anymore.” He moved out and then in with his girlfriend Jill at the end of last year, but it feels like ages ago.
He chuckles wryly. “I am for a number of reasons. I don’t miss cleaning up after you.”
The implication of those words weighs so much greater than a teasing joke and sits heavy on my shoulders. He’s been cleaning up my messes his entire life. He must be so sick of it. Sick of me.
He wipes down the counter and hangs the towel to dry. “I threw out four bags of trash.”
I would roll my eyes but that would hurt. Does he want a fucking medal for his housekeeping efforts? “Okay.” My head throbs, each sound hitting like a jackhammer. I move around him to grab a glass of water and snag a few painkillers from the bottle next to the fridge.
Cam’s fingers wrap around my forearm and he waits until I meet his gaze. “I threw out everything I could find.” Everything. He means alcohol.
My jaw hangs open and I shake my head. “Bro. Not cool.” I open the fridge and then the cupboard over the sink to find he’s not bluffing. My glare narrows on his. “That’s not only my stuff. It belongs to my roommates too.”
“Well, they’re not going to be your roommates much longer if you keep getting wasted every damn day.”
His condescending tone makes my retort come out snippy. “I’m not a little kid anymore. This isn’t your damn business.”
“You made it my business. Your roommates work for the department. When they complain about your behavior to their supervisors, it gets back to me. It’s absolutely my place to intervene.”
They complained about me? That betrayal sticks in my throat. We’re a brotherhood. We don’t rat each other out.
“They’re worried about you,” Cam says softly, as if reading my mind. “Anyway, what’s done is done. I tossed everything in the dumpster and we need to get to the courthouse.”
I want to argue with him. Fight. Scream. Hit something. But that would only reinforce what he thinks about me: that I’m no better than a child who needs looking after.
I grab my wallet from the counter, then reach for my keys out of habit. Damn it. I miss driving my Camaro. I miss the independence that comes with a license. Too bad mine’ll be suspended for at least another ninety days. God damn. It’s selfish to have those thoughts after what I did to Maverick. I bet he misses driving, too. As if the metal might burn my skin, I drop the keys back into the small dish and follow my brother out the door.
Cam and I don’t talk for most of the drive. It’s probably best. My head still hurts and there’s nothing to say. I don’t know what Cam’s thinking, but a sense of dread clouds my mind with each passing mile. I’m headed toward another dose of reality I’d rather avoid. My stomach twists with unease at the sight of the courthouse.
“Dad said your lawyer will meet us there.”
I vaguely recall the few phone calls I’ve had with the lawyer my father hired. I was drunk for most of them.
“Will Dad be there?” I haven’t seen him since the day after the accident. Not since the day he bailed me out of jail and deposited me outside my apartment with the most cutting parting words. He didn’t lecture. He didn’t yell. He didn’t even meet my gaze.
“Don’t step foot in any one of my stations,” he said, and then shook his head. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you.”
He drove off before I could form a response and we haven’t spoken since.
Cam clears his throat. “I’m not sure.” His eyes never leave the road.
“Oh.” The rejection shouldn’t hurt so much after all these years, but it does. Deep down, I’m the same little boy desperate for his father’s attention.
“He’s working. I’m sure he’ll stop by if he can.”
I laugh, my lips twisting down with bitter disappointment. “You don’t need to lie to me. We both know how it is with him.”
Cam grips the steering wheel tighter, the only clue to his discomfort. “Either way, after this is over he wants to see you.”
It hits me then that they’ve already discussed this. Arranged who would bring me today. Decided things about my life without input from the person it effects the most. Me. Did Cam draw the short straw, or volunteer? Either way, it hurts.
We park and meet my lawyer inside the courthouse. He’s waiting outside the room where the judge I’ve been assigned will hear my case.
“Only speak if you are asked a direct question, otherwise I will handle it. Understood?”
I nod, acknowledging his reminder for what we’ve already discussed.
“Questions?”
I don’t even know what to ask. Being here makes everything real again. I haven’t given much thought to my punishment. Now I wish I had. “Should I be worried?”
Cam glances away at my question.
“This is a very serious offense,” my lawyer says, his tone almost patronizing. “The state of Virginia has some of the toughest DUI laws in the nation. A
s I stated in the letter I sent to you last week, you’re facing jail time. Possibly up to five years if the county decides to persecute to the fullest extent. And that’s before the possible civil suit from Mr. Collins.”
“Maverick is suing?”
“Not yet, but you should expect it given his prognosis. It would be a solid case.” My lawyer glances at the clock above the doorway. “The only positive you have going for you is that this is your first offense. I’ll do my best to lessen your sentence.”
I glance around, suddenly nervous that Maverick’s family or his fiancée might be here. I’m not ready to face them. It’s part of the reason I’ve been drowning in a bottle. But I don’t have much time to worry because soon my case is called and I’m ushered up front to sit next to my lawyer.
I clasp my hands together, gaze fixated on them laying idle on the table. Hands that are callused and scarred and used to be for saving. For fighting fires. For serving others. But now—now they almost took someone’s life. In a way they already have. Maverick will never come back to the department. I stole that from him. I deserve everything I get today.
The judge before us reminds me of one of my father’s friends. Older and no-nonsense, but not close to calling it quits though he probably could retire. He reads over the court documents and asks a few questions to my lawyer as well as the county prosecutor.
“Do you understand the seriousness of your offense?” the judge says to me. “Do you have remorse for your actions?”
“I do, Your Honor.”
He stares as if expecting more, but I don’t know what to say. Nothing undoes the harm I caused.
“Very well. Given your clean record and history of being an outstanding member of this community, I’m going to propose an atypical penalty. You have two choices, Mr. Matthews. One is to take a sixteen-month prison sentence and complete the state’s alcohol safety addiction program with a one-year license suspension. The second is three-hundred hours of volunteer service, along with the alcohol safety addiction program and the license suspension for one year. The catch is you need to complete those hours within the next three months; otherwise, you’ll still get option one.”
