by Jenny Wood
“Nah, he’s already over it. Look," I tell him, pointing at Gannon and Kingsley swaying side to side, with their arms around each other's shoulders. Yeah, they are adorable idiots.
“I’m just saying, if someone called and told me they were going to murder Conner, I wouldn’t be so forgiving,” Kayson says, just as Kingsley falls over and pulls a laughing Gannon on top of him.
“I think that’s my cue," I slap Kayson’s arm as he laughs and pulls out his phone. They’re falling all over each other trying to help one another off the ground. I take the three steps quickly and help Gannon untangle himself from King and his octopus arms.
“Come on, Sonny and Cher, it’s time to call it a night.”
“I’m Sonny, he can be Cher,” Kingsley grumbles, shuffling off the stage and hollering for Morgan, who is less than a foot away from him. “Oh, there you are.”
“I was going to sing ‘Pretty Fly For A White Guy’, remember that song, Shade?” Gannon asks, leaning heavily into me as I walk us down the steps with my hand fisted in the back of his shirt in case he pitches forward.
“I think your concert is over, Vanilla Ice, you can sing it next time,” I promise. He seems okay with that arrangement because he doesn’t protest as we make our way around the yard and say goodbye to everyone. With the promise of calling and texting everyone tomorrow, I load Gannon up in my truck and buckle him in as his clumsy hands try and help.
“I got it, just sit back and don’t barf in my truck,” I warn.
“I’m not gonna’ barf in your truck, Shade. I’m not even drunk.” I scoff, earning an unfocused glare aimed my way. “I’m not,” he argues, stubbornly.
“K, so sit there and look cute then. I’ll have you home in a few minutes," Gannon harrumphs better than any sulky teenager as he folds his arms across his chest and lets his head fall back against the headrest.
“Big baby,” I murmur, shutting him in the truck before he can protest. True to my words, we’re pulling into his drive no more than ten minutes later, and he’s fast asleep.
Making sure we both have our phones, I grab my bag from the back that has a change of clothes in them and run them up to the porch so I can go back for Gannon. He doesn’t budge when I open the door or when I unbuckle his belt and move him around so he doesn’t get stuck in it trying to jump down. Taking a minute to study him in his sleep, I can’t help but remember all the times I laid beside him, doing this very thing. Memorizing the lines and dips of his lips, nose, and eyes. He has a tiny little cleft in his chin that he hates and keeps covered with a smattering of facial hair. He doesn’t have a beard per se, but it’s enough scruff to hide the dip. It also hides the one dimple in his right cheek and I fucking love that dimple. I suppose I love everything about him just because I love him. It is a sobering thought and one I am glad he isn’t conscious enough to witness.
“Gannon, hey, we’re at the cabin. Wake up,” I say quietly, shaking him only slightly to rouse him. It doesn’t work, so I try again. “Gannon, wake up, man. Let’s go inside and I’ll get you some water and dump you in bed. Come on.”
“Mmm, no," Gannon murmurs, shuffling to the side so he can curl up and get comfortable.
“What if I fry you some bacon and let you eat a greasy sandwich before dumping you in bed, will you wake up and come inside with me, then?” I tempt him, shaking him a bit to keep him awake.
“Stop, baby, I’m drunk’n sleep,” he slurs on a mumble but I freeze at the endearment. It’s a throwaway, I know that. He’s drunk and half asleep, but I don’t deny that I relish it for just a second.
“Come on,” I sigh, pulling his legs over the side of the seat and helping him sit up. His eyes pop open and he looks around, recognizing his house and relaxing before looking down at me.
“You brought me home,” he points out. I agree that I did and he smiles, hopping down and stumbling just a bit before I grab him and help steady him so he doesn’t fall flat on his face. “Whoa.”
“Where's your keys?” I ask, grabbing my bag from the porch and hooking it up around my shoulder.
“Use yours,” he yawns, leaning against the pillar so I can dig in my pocket for my set. Of course, I have a key to his house, he has one to mine too.
“Come on,” I reach back and grab his arm, pulling him into the house after me. I flip on the lights and shuffle him down the hallway, dropping my bag on our way. “Get ready for bed, I’m going to lock up and get you some water.”
“And bacon,” he confirms, proving he heard me and was just ignoring me.
“Heard that did ya?”
“I was hoping you’d carry me in. My legs aren’t working, you let me drink too much.”
I laugh, shoving him down on his bed and watching him bounce once before turning over on his back.
“I didn’t let you do anything. I’m not your keeper," I tease, squatting to untie his shoes so he can kick them off. As I untie one, I look up to see him propped up on his elbows looking down at me. “What?” I ask, wondering why his brows are scrunched up.
“Yes you are,”
“Yes I am, what?”
“You’re my keeper,” he says. “But that’s okay because I’m your keeper too. We just haven’t figured it out yet," And with that, he falls back and throws his hands out to his sides. I can hear his quiet snoring when I pull his shoes off and lift his legs back up on the bed. He’s insanely hard to turn with his body being dead weight. I don’t want to risk waking him up by asking him to scooch up and get comfortable, so instead, I make sure his body is completely on the bed and then push him to his side so he can throw up and not choke if he needs to. I don’t want to delve too deep into what he meant because I know better than to take the word of a drunk person.
I lock up my truck and then the house, then shoot Morgan a text that we’ll pick up Shade’s truck at some point tomorrow and to call if there’s a problem and we need to come sooner. He doesn’t answer but I figure he’s doing about the same thing that I’m doing right now, which is getting Gannon a bottle of water to sit beside the bed and frying up some bacon in case he wakes up and wants to eat. It might get cold, but cold bacon is just as good as warm bacon, in my opinion.
I take the food and water into the bedroom and pull the wastebasket beside the bed, just to be safe, and then make sure he’s covered up and comfortable before heading to the couch where I dumped my clothes. I don’t waste time getting changed, and bring a blanket to the living room so I can curl up on the couch. I could’ve slept in the guest room, but the sun shines through the blinds the second it decides to come up, and I am hoping that I’ll get to sleep in a little if I sleep out here. I don’t look for Gannon to be up bright and early either. Saturday’s are meant to be lazy days. I’m hoping to enforce that rule tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the universe has other plans. I feel as though I’ve been asleep for about five whole minutes when I hear what sounded like a knock on the door. I lay there and keep my eyes closed, hoping that if I don’t acknowledge it, it will stop. It doesn’t.
Grumbling, I push myself up and wipe my eyes enough to see the clock. It is just after nine and I’d been asleep for a good seven hours. My eyes feel gritty and dry and my teeth need a toothbrush, stat; but, the door is being knocked on and it doesn’t look as though Gannon is up yet, so I smooth out my shirt and tiptoe to the front door.
Pulling it open, I am surprised as fuck to see Gannon’s mom standing there with her hand poised to knock again.
“Shade,” she beams up at me. “Oh my goodness, how are you, dear?”
“I’m good, Ms. Holly. How are you?” I ask, letting her pull me to her for a hug. I’m not sure how she’s here right now, she is supposed to be in rehab for another few weeks at least.
“Doing just fine, honey. Is my boy home?” she asks, peeking around me to see into the house.
“Yeah, sorry, come on in,” I say, taking the suitcase from her and pulling it in behind her. “We were at the Kennedy’s last night until pretty late
, so he’s not up yet. I’ll go see if I can’t get him up. If you want to help yourself to some coffee, I’m pretty sure he’s got some in there somewhere," I say, already heading down the hall to Gannon’s room. Isn’t it just fucking great, that my brother shows up one day to cause problems and his mom skips out on rehab the very next one? There couldn’t be any other explanation other than her signing herself out, because I know that she wasn’t released early. She’s what they call a ‘frequent flyer’, so, I know they wouldn’t let her go without a fight.
“Gannon, wake up. Your mom is here," I hiss in a whispered yell, yanking the blanket off him for added effect. “Gannon, get the fuck up! Your mom is here!”
“What?” Gannon rolls slightly to the side so he can squint at me and ask.
“Your mom is here. She just showed up. Get up, she’s making coffee," I rummage through his drawers, pulling out a clean shirt and basketball shorts. I toss them at him and go into the bathroom to grab a toothbrush and to get his prepped so he can brush and go. I will not be left alone in there with his mother. I tell him as much when I come back out, brushing my teeth vigorously.
“What’s she doing here?” he asks, dressing as quickly as his hungover body will let him. His groans and gasps are something I’m trying to ignore.
“She didn’t say. I didn’t ask. How much longer did she have left?” I walk back to the bathroom to spit.
“Fifteen days. Today’s her forty-five-day evaluation. Or it was supposed to be," he says, joining me at the sink so he could brush. We watch each other in the mirror and I can tell he’s worried as hell and maybe even a little bit pissed. I know he paid out of pocket for this facility and I’m positive that her signing herself out would be a waste of every penny. As I spit and rinse, I tell him I’m going to go see what she’s doing, but I make him promise to hurry his ass up because I cannot handle alone time with Holly Calloway.
Out of respect for Gannon, I don’t tell her how fucked up I know his childhood was and how as an adult he shouldn’t have to take care of her because of her addiction. Out of respect for him, I don’t tell her how hard her addiction is on him, and how every time she relapses, he takes it personally, like it’s somehow his responsibility to keep her ass clean. I don’t tell her that every time she leaves, I hope she doesn’t come back because Gannon deserves to live in peace. And out of respect for Gannon, I don’t kick her out of his house when I catch her looking through his desk that sits in the little office just off the kitchen.
“I don’t think the coffee pot is in here, do you?” I ask, starling her.
“I was looking for a pen,” she lies. She snatches one up when I look down at the desk and see two black pens sitting right on top.
“I just put those there.”
“I’m sure," I deadpan. “Gannon will be out in a second, let’s meet him in the kitchen and you can tell him why you’re here.”
“You know, I think I’d like the morning with my son. If you could give us some time,” she says, looking at me expectantly. I don’t reply as we both enter the kitchen and I pour myself some coffee and grab the cream in the fridge for Gannon’s.
“Hey, mom,” Gannon joins us only a couple of minutes later and I hand him a full cup. “Thanks.”
“Gannon, you look ill. Are you okay?” Ms. Holly asks, obviously changing the subject. He does though, he looks rough.
“What are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to talk to Dr. Mark this afternoon?” he questions. I watch as she stiffens her posture and sounds affronted as she tries to explain.
“Dr. Mark struck me. In the face. I had to get out of there," she informs him. I look at Gannon who looks rightly confused and I hope to all hell that he doesn’t buy into that bullshit. Why in the world would a doctor hit her in the face?
“You should definitely call and see what he has to say, Gannon,” I advise. I guarantee it didn’t happen, but if it did, it was probably an accident that occurred while she was out of control. I can’t see Dr. Mark dealing with that, though. An orderly, maybe, but the doctor? I just can’t see that.
“Absolutely,” Gannon agrees but is quickly interrupted.
“He’s not in today, it’s Saturday.”
“So, it didn’t happen today?” Gannon questions, searching her face.
“No, it happened yesterday,” she answers.
“What time?” I ask, knowing that he talked to her around five.
“I don’t know. What difference does it make? Don’t you believe me?” she asks, feigning hurt. It’s what she does to manipulate him and I hate seeing it, I always have.
“Yeah, it does. What time did he hit you?” Gannon doesn’t back down.
“I don’t know. After group. Around three,” she lies, likely making it up as she goes.
“So, before I talked to you last night around five?”
“Sweetheart, I hardly think we need an audience for this. Can we speak about it privately?”
“No -”
“No," Gannon and I say at the same time. Seeing that she’s outnumbered and not to be believed, Ms. Holly bursts into tears. I can see Gannon starting to wane and it pisses me off. It might not be my place to say anything, but he had my back yesterday and I’d be a shitty ass friend if I sat back and watched him have to deal with her shit on his own.
“What were you looking for in Gannon’s office, Ms. Holly?” I ask, watching it bring her up short. Her tears almost instantly disappear.
“I told you I was looking for a pen," I raise my brows at Gannon who’s jaw is clenched so hard I fear his teeth might break.
“Mom,” he says, a clear warning in his voice. “What really happened? Why didn’t you complete the sixty-day course?”
“You know what? I don’t need this shit, Gannon. This isn’t right! I’m your mother!” she resorts to yelling, making a big production while walking back through the house, grabbing her suitcase and heading straight out the door. She slams it behind her for good measure.
“I’m too hungover for this shit," Gannon gripes, moving in the opposite direction, headed towards his office. I can hear him rummaging through the drawers and letting out a soft curse before coming back into the kitchen. “She got about sixty bucks.”
“Fuck. I shouldn’t have left her alone in here. I told her to go make coffee and when I came out from waking you up, she was in there. I didn’t see her take anything though. I’m sorry, man," Gannon is shaking his head before I finish speaking.
“It isn’t your fault, Shade. It’s how she is, you know that. She’ll go get a fix and come back and apologize when she’s out of money," I pull him to me and wrap my arms around him, hearing his coffee cup slide across the table before both of his hands slide up my back and hang on.
“Thanks for steppin’ in there. I hate arguing with her,” he says into my shoulder, his breath fanning down my neck, giving me chills.
“I’m sorry she ruined your hangover sleep," Gannon snorts, shoving himself off me with a light slap to the gut. The heavy mood is lifted as I lift myself up onto the counter to sit and sip my coffee.
“You need chairs in here,” I complain, looking around the gorgeous kitchen with its 80’s, retro, woodsy vibe. The long peninsula that juts out of the wall, looking out into the living room area would be a perfect place for a few tall barstools.
“I don’t usually hang out in here too much. I drink coffee while I get ready in the morning and any meal I make is usually consumed in front of that tv in there," he points to the massive flat-screen that’s hanging just above a faux gas fireplace.
“Still, wouldn’t you like to cook your guests something fancy and enjoy it in this beautiful kitchen?” I prompt, not missing the grunt I get in return.
“No,” I roll my eyes at his flippant reply, but it’s the wink he sends me that gets me.
Before I can think of something to come back at him with, my phone chimes with an incoming text. Gannon goes and grabs it for me as I lean over and rinse my now empty cup in the sink
. Hearing a rather incredulous scoff, I’m not surprised that he reads it before handing it to me, he’s always looking through my shit. He swears I have hidden nudes or embarrassing selfies, but, he hasn’t found any yet.
- Dad: Dad say u might offr me job @ garage. Call me. - It reads.
“He’s can’t be serious,” I mumble, pressing the side button to lock the screen back without answering that bullshit.
“No? Don’t want to work with your felonious brother, then?” Gannon teases, rolling his eyes at even the implication. I can only glower as another text comes through.
- Dad: Or u could just say I work ther n sign my weekly report. That works 2.
“Okay, that’s more like it," I hand the phone to Gannon to let him read it. He snorts in his coffee and coughs a pained laugh.
“Fuckin’ moron,” he comments, wiping the coffee from his lips. I have to agree.
“Come on, walk me out and I’ll get out of your hair for the day. You should go back to sleep for a bit or at least shower. You look like a bag of smashed ass," I tease. He doesn’t, he looks sexy and sleep rumpled and gorgeous. I laugh when he pushes me towards the door, but I have shit by the couch that I need to grab. “Let me get my bag, you prick," he lets me change course and I clean up the blankets that I used last night and gather all my shit while he flops down into his recliner and reclines. “You need a ride to get your truck later?”
“Nah, I left the keys with King. He’ll bring it over later if I ask," his eyes close as he stretches out on a groan.
“Alright,” I say, slapping his foot as I pass. “Call me if you need me.”
He waves me off and I lock the front door on my way out.
Thinking about the text I got and the trouble that will undoubtedly bring, I’m glad I’ve got my workout clothes on because I head straight for the gym for a half-hour with a heavy bag.
Gannon
Being woken up from a dead sleep has become somewhat normal for me over the last couple of nights. Nightmares involving my mother lying in a ditch somewhere, or in some flophouse with who knows who, doing who knows what, has me waking up in a cold sweat every couple of hours. I’d asked Cruz to keep an eye out for her, but I knew that sixty bucks could keep her plenty busy for several days, and if she was laid up somewhere scoring pills or worse, she wouldn’t be found until she was ready.
