Luke thrust Jordan off him as cold spilled through his veins. Only pride and years of fending for himself kept him from falling apart like a house of cards in the wind. “I’m nobody. Nobody at all.” Without a backward glance, he strode out of the alley, back into the center, not stopping until he pushed open the glass-front doors to the street. Luke balled his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut. Until the cool air hit the wetness on his face, he hadn’t realized he was crying.
Chapter Seventeen
The dead silence echoed loudly in the darkness after Lucas left. Jordan braced himself against the crumbling facade of the building. The only thing he could concentrate on was not falling to his knees. Jordan’s brain couldn’t process what had happened with Lucas.
His heart was another story altogether. He’d fucked up badly.
“Jordan?” Drew placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Jordan shifted away. Drew meant well, but Jordan couldn’t stand any gestures of comfort and well-meaning sympathy.
Drew dropped his hand but didn’t walk away. “Are you okay? Can we get you anything?”
For a brief moment, Jordan wanted that bag of pills. The entire lot of them. Would it be so wrong? He could swallow them all and slip away, no longer a burden to his family or friends. Be at peace finally. And Keith, who’d never judged him, would be there, waiting. It was all so tempting. But so wrong. The past few months that he and Lucas spent together had brought him to dizzying heights of passion that reawakened his lust for life. Jordan craved a return to the normal existence he’d once had, but he didn’t know how to push his body up past that last rung of the ladder to finish his climb out of hell. The flames had already consumed his life by taking Keith, and now his addiction was on the verge of destroying him.
Addiction.
The ground dropped from beneath his feet as his admission shattered the protective shell around him. He was an addict. Lucas had been right all along.
Jordan couldn’t stand to think of the pitying glances thrown his way. He drew himself up, stiff and straight. There were still too many people about, and if he didn’t play host and seek out each of them, it would be doing a disservice to Keith’s memory. The control he was famous for kicked in, and drawing on some remaining vestige of pride and strength, he addressed his friends over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact with any of them. “I need to get back inside to the guests. I’ve got to speak to the commanding officer of the precinct and then some of the politicians who also showed up.” He attempted a smile, but it barely registered on his frozen lips.
Ignoring the cold rush of anxiety that swept through him, Jordan smoothed down his suit jacket and strode back inside. If he dwelled on what had happened outside with Lucas, he’d crumble into dust. More than anything else, he wanted a pill to steady the noise in his head and the uneven pounding of his heart, but gathering whatever shreds of dignity he had left, Jordan reined in his craving. The past few weeks had seen him cut back his pill usage dramatically. Many times when it had been only Lucas and him together, Jordan had thought about telling him the truth about his continuing anxiety and the pills.
But then Lucas would say how proud he was of Jordan, how strong Jordan was to kick the habit. He’d tell stories of people he’d seen become victims to drugs and how he refused to fall into its deadly trap.
“I’m so proud of you, Prep School. You’re not another pretty face. You’re strong.”
And sick to his stomach with guilt and disgust over his own weakness, Jordan would only nod and fall into Lucas’s kiss.
How could Jordan let him down and admit he’d been lying to Lucas from the start? The fragile trust Lucas had given by exposing parts of himself Jordan knew Lucas had never told anyone would have been dashed to pieces, splintered beyond repair.
Jordan had gambled on time, but time had run out, and he’d lost.
As Jordan continued to mingle with the people in the room, speaking the rote words of thanks and pleasantries, his mind calculated how long he’d have to give Lucas to calm down before seeing him again. Tonight was done. He knew Lucas well enough now to understand the man’s need for space and time away to think. Tomorrow, Jordan decided. Perhaps in the light of day, Lucas would understand Jordan hadn’t meant to hold back the truth but rather didn’t want to suffer the sting of humiliation by admitting his addiction, his ultimate weakness.
“Dr. Peterson?” A hesitant female voice broke into his self-torment. He blinked and stared for a moment at the young woman in front of him. “It’s Valerie, from Mr. Conover’s office?” Concern creased her brow. “Is everything all right?”
He swallowed, the acrid taste in his mouth burning a path down his throat. “I recognize you. Yes, yes, of course I’m fine. I’m so glad you could come.” A tall man hovered by her side, a serious expression on his pleasant, tired face. Her husband, Jordan surmised. The overhead lights picked out threads of silver in his light brown hair, and Jordan guessed the man to be in his late thirties.
A relieved look crossed her eyes. “This is my brother, Dr. Sebastian Weber. Tash, this is Dr. Peterson, the president of the foundation that is running this center.”
“Dr. Weber, thank you for coming.” Jordan shook Dr. Weber’s hand, surprised at the strength of the man’s grip. “What do you practice?”
The force of Dr. Weber’s intent stare set Jordan back a step or two, as if he’d been physically slapped. “I’m a psychiatrist.”
Wise hazel eyes stared back at him from behind wire-rimmed glasses. “I have patients from all walks of life, fighting battles they never dreamed they’d have to face.”
Jordan shifted with uncomfortable awareness, as if Dr. Weber saw behind the mask he offered up to everyone. Pressure built in Jordan’s chest as their gazes locked. In Weber’s eyes, Jordan viewed sympathy and an uncanny knowledge of Jordan’s own internal struggle. For the first time since he began abusing the pills, a flutter of hope, faint yet definite, sank deep into his bones and blood, that maybe he could break free and take back his life.
In a practiced move, Weber pushed his glasses up the bridge of his straight, strong nose. It made him look younger, somewhat sweeter and more vulnerable. His silver-flecked hair and serene smile seemed at odds with his youthful, gangly body.
“Dr. Weber?” An idea came to him, and Jordan knew it was his answer, quite possibly his salvation.
“Please call me Tash.”
“Very well. I’m Jordan.” Jordan took a deep breath. “Can we talk? Maybe have coffee tomorrow? I have a problem, and maybe you can help me.”
Jordan sat by the window in his favorite coffee shop on Ninth Avenue, sipping a latte. Inexplicably nervous, he tapped the tabletop with the wooden stirrer, wondering why he’d thought meeting Tash was a good idea. Last night had been horrible—the worst night of his life other than Keith’s death. Lucas’s face rose before his eyes, shock leading to pain, anger, and the horror of being lied to. Despite his friends’ fury over Lucas abandoning him, Jordan understood why. Why Lucas chose not to stay and talk but ran instead. For the first night in weeks, Lucas hadn’t spent the night. Jordan didn’t expect to hear from the man. He’d yet to face Jerry’s angry questions.
From their talks, trust had been the foundation Lucas built his life on. Lucas assumed Jordan had quit his habit during the time he’d been away in Europe, and Jordan did nothing to prevent him from continuing that assumption. His lie of omission was no different than if he’d spoken it outright to Lucas’s face. How easily he’d broken that bond of trust they’d begun to weave. Jordan had no one to blame but himself.
Spying Tash entering the coffeehouse, Jordan waved him over to the secluded corner he’d chosen for them to sit in. He’d picked that spot so no one would be able to hear their conversation or intrude. “Come. I have a table. Get your coffee so we can talk.” Tash smiled and ordered his cappuccino, making friendly conversation with the barista as he waited for her to make his order.
Jordan eyed Tash’s easy smile, thick brown
hair gilded with those silvery flecks, and strong, capable hands, all of which added up to an extremely appealing man—but not for Jordan. The man’s lean runner’s body, encased in faded jeans and a soft green sweater, wasn’t broad and muscular like Lucas’s. Jordan recalled the flex and play of Lucas’s body beneath his hands the last time they made love. A quiver of desire shot through him. His hand tightened around his cup of coffee, and Jordan wondered if he’d ever again hear the tenderness in Lucas’s whispered words of passion.
It had taken Jordan almost a year to gather the broken shards of his life and piece together a framework to do more than exist day to day. No matter how hard he’d pushed them away, his friends refused to allow him to mourn alone. There was no easy answer as to why he thought he could hide his secret dependence on the pills, but for the first time in his life, he was shaken and scared. Broken and alone. He’d locked himself in a cage, unable to set himself free. He needed Lucas, but Jordan couldn’t figure out how to push beyond his own betrayal and ask him for forgiveness. At this point, Jordan didn’t even believe he was a person worth saving. He fervently hoped Tash could help him, not only with the physical detox of the pills from his body but to understand the psychological breakdown of his relationship with Lucas.
“Good to see you again.” Tash slid into the seat opposite him and placed a cup of steaming coffee on the table. “Are you feeling better this morning?”
“Not really.” At Jordan’s admission, Tash’s eyebrows rose.
“And you’d like to talk about it?”
“I would.” Jordan twisted his fingers together. How could his life have gotten so fucked up that he’d come to this point of baring his secrets to a stranger? Embarrassed, Jordan began to fill Tash in on his history. “You know I lost my partner last year, right?”
Tash nodded but stayed silent.
“To say I became very angry and depressed was putting it mildly. I directed my anger not only at the world at large, for the senselessness of Keith’s death, but at my best friend, Drew, whom I blamed for everything that happened that night. My therapist urged me to talk to him, but I couldn’t.”
“That’s quite a bit to deal with at one time. I can understand why you sought treatment.” Tash’s neutral voice gave nothing away, and Jordan took another gulp of his cooled coffee and continued.
“The anger turned into anxiety and panic attacks, and my doctor prescribed medication, Xanax. The time came that he wanted me to stop the pills.” Jordan swallowed and took a sip of his coffee, not because he wanted it but to forestall what he had to say.
“But you didn’t stop them, did you?” Tash’s quiet voice held no censure, emboldening Jordan to continue and not lie or obfuscate the truth.
“No. I didn’t. I-I told him I didn’t feel ready to stop, but he dismissed me, saying it had been eight months. Long enough for me to have worked through whatever issues I had.” Jordan forced himself to meet Tash’s eyes. To his surprise, they held no sympathy, but spit angry green sparks.
“Do you mean to say your doctor told you to basically get over it?” The anger in Tash’s voice caused Jordan to blink in astonishment.
“Um, well, yeah. He said—”
“I don’t give a shit what he said.” Tash’s fist banged hard on the table, drawing the attention of several of the patrons sitting near them. “As a doctor, he knows how hard it can be to stop those kinds of drugs. Telling you to quit cold turkey was the height of unprofessionalism by your treating physician and bordered on malpractice, as far as I’m concerned.”
Jordan sat unblinking and began to shake. Tears burned hot behind his eyelids. Finally, someone understood the hell he’d been going through. “I wanted to quit, but I didn’t want anyone to know how far I’d fallen. To admit I had such a weakness.” Jordan choked out a bitter laugh. “I couldn’t do it. Not to my friends and family. They’d always looked up to me. I couldn’t let them down.”
“It isn’t weak to ask for help when you’re hurting, Jordan. It takes strength.” Tash’s anger had subsided to what Jordan now recognized as his naturally unruffled demeanor.
“You don’t know me, though. I’ve always looked out for everyone. Since we were young, I protected Drew and Mike. They needed me.”
“Are you sure about that? Or did you need them to make yourself feel important?” Tash sipped his coffee, then placed the cup back on the table. “Let’s talk about your best friends. Val told me a bit about them, I guess from what Luke told her, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
Jordan shrugged. “Not much to tell. Drew, Mike, and I have been friends since we were little. Mike is with Rachel now, and while it was strange at first, since we’ve known each other all our lives, I can see Mike is crazy about her and Rachel’s a great girl. I’m happy for them.”
“And Drew?”
Jordan tensed, and he could hear the note of self-defense creep into his voice. “He’s with Ash now. We obviously can’t be as close as we once were.” He took a sip of coffee, watching his hand shake as it held the cup. “What does this have to do with anything, with me?”
Not bothering to answer the question, Tash asked one of his own. “How do you feel about Drew’s relationship with Ash? Any resentment at being replaced as the number one guy in Drew’s life?”
“I wasn’t—”
Tash continued as if Jordan hadn’t spoken at all. “Drew moved on with his life and is happy. Does that bother you? That he’s happy with a man you don’t like?”
This line of questioning delved a bit too deep for Jordan’s liking. “It doesn’t matter if I like Ash or not. He loves Drew, and they work. It’s that…that…” His shoulders slumped.
“What? Go on, tell me.” Tash’s hand covered his—warm, dry, and solid.
“I have no one now who needs me anymore. Keith needed me, he always said—to show him the happy, joyful side of life—and he’s gone. Drew has Ash, and Mike has Rachel.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m superfluous now. If I disappeared, the only one who would care would be my dog.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“It’s what I know. After Keith died, I isolated myself from everyone close to me. They carried on fine with their lives. I should’ve disappeared.” It all came pouring out of Jordan, his self-doubts and the disappointment. “No one would’ve noticed, and it would’ve made everything easier overall. Sometimes I think about ending it, but I’m too much of a coward.”
“You aren’t a coward. It takes strength to admit these truths not only to yourself but to others.” Tash’s hand remained on Jordan’s, his long fingers curling around Jordan’s damp palm. “What we have to discover is why you view your self-worth only as it relates to how others see you, not in your own accomplishments.”
Confused by that statement, Jordan couldn’t help but question Tash further. “What are you talking about? That sounds like psychiatric mumbo jumbo to me.”
Tash laughed, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “I am a psychiatrist, remember? The mumbo jumbo, as you call it, is what I do.” He gave Jordan’s hand a quick squeeze. “You have to learn to define yourself by your own accomplishments. What other people think of you shouldn’t matter. You think you’re responsible for your friends’ happiness, but you aren’t.”
“But—”
“Uh-uh.” Tash gripped Jordan’s hand harder. “In this case I’m the doctor, and you need to listen to me. Now this is how it’s going to go down. I’m going to get you detoxed and be on call for you 24–7 for the week. Then you’ll be in a recovery program, which I run. But none of this will happen unless you admit to yourself first and then your friends that you have a problem. That’s the first step in recovery.”
Things were happening at a breakneck pace, and Jordan found himself teetering on the edge of losing control. “What about my job, the clinic? I’m letting everyone down because I’m too fucking weak to control myself.”
“Jordan. Listen to me. You have an addiction. It’s nothing to b
e ashamed of. But if you don’t get a handle on it, you could die. You can’t practice medicine while under the influence of drugs. I’m surprised you’ve been able to do it for as long as you have.”
“I thought I could handle it. I made sure never to operate if I took pills beforehand. I wouldn’t put my patients in jeopardy.” Hot with humiliation, Jordan rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been trying to cut down, but it hasn’t been easy.”
“I know.” Tash’s sympathetic smile had the effect of making Jordan feel worse. “That’s the nature of an addiction. You believe you’ll be okay and can do it alone, yet the craving never goes away, does it?” The knowing hazel gaze pinned Jordan.
“No,” Jordan whispered. “Every time Lucas would tell me how proud he was that I’d kicked the habit, it only made me more anxious because I knew I was lying to him, and I’d end up taking another pill.”
“So what do you say? Are you ready to tell everyone? Are you ready to beat this? I have faith in you. I know you can do it.”
But Jordan had a few questions of his own. “Why are you taking such an interest in me? We really don’t know each other. I only know your sister because she works for Lucas.”
The good humor faded from Tash’s exceptional hazel eyes, leaving them dark and haunted.
“Let’s say I won’t allow another person I see drowning get swept away without helping him.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“It can be,” Tash admitted, a sad smile passing over his lips, coming as quickly as it disappeared. “But I know what to look for now, and I won’t let you sink. I’ll be your lifeline if you let me.”
Tash’s hand still held his, and Jordan had no desire to let go. There was no sexual desire or hidden innuendo in Tash’s touch, merely a refuge from the storm that had been battering Jordan’s body and soul for months now. It wasn’t until he’d been pummeled so hard he could barely stand that Jordan realized the terrible burden that had been weighing him down.
“I want to be normal again.” Jordan’s voice caught on the dryness of his throat as he held on tight to Tash’s hand. “I’m so ashamed to have allowed myself to sink this low. I’ve risked my friendships, my career, and now my relationship with Lucas—perhaps the most important thing of all.”
After the Fire Page 18
