Rescued by Love

by Jules Dixon

  I dropped my boxers. Holt raised his eyebrows as I modeled my birthday suit and allowed him to get his fill, even swinging the third leg around a little to show off. “Inspiration?”

  “Get dressed, Mason,” Holt said without emotion.

  But I saw the smile that crossed his face while I was slipping on the clothes I would imagine were Kanyon’s. Black t-shirt and black track pants with white socks. Prison-style with a slight upgrade, but not much.

  And commando. No more thinking about Rory. Seriously, stop thinking about her.

  “You get enough inspiration to make your evening happen?” I asked.

  “Drex, you and I both know it’s not the size of engine. It’s knowing how to upshift and when to downshift to get that great rumble from your baby’s exhaust.”

  I threw my head back, letting go of a real relaxed laugh, and Holt laughed with me.

  We both stopped when we heard Oliver shout, “What the fuck is going on up there?”

  I walked down the stairs first. “Hey Aston, your man got his fill for his spank bank. You can thank me later.”

  “You’re dead, Mason.”

  Rahl cut Ollie off before he reached me. “Oliver, he’s messing with you.” Rahl shook his head at me. “And you fucking stop that shit.”

  I sank into the sofa. “So, what’s next? An implant to track me, in case I decide to bolt?”

  “Not a bad idea,” Rahl mumbled.

  “I was kidding.”

  “I’m not, Mason.”

  Rahl was usually all business and I’d heard he could be cranky, but tonight he had a different emotion on his usual poker face. Mad or pissed or angry or furious? Something I couldn’t make out. Then I remembered watching him and Sage at the wedding reception, how he rocked her in his arms song after song, just to be on the dance floor with her. I’d done the same with Rory and it had been a moment of clarity for me. One that didn’t happen often. And now he was here, instead of with her. If he implanted me or punched me or never spoke to me again, I’d consider all three justified.

  “Rahl, please go home to Sage. She needs you more than I do and I’m sorry I’m the reason you’re away from her.”

  Rahl stared at me in a different way. There was real compassion in his eyes and he shook his head with exasperation. “Drexel, just get your shit together. I don’t know Rory that well, but I’m pretty sure everyone in this room would agree that at Jude and Presley’s wedding we could see she’s not just some girl to you. If you love her, start treating her like she’s the only girl to you. Appreciate her and give her all of you, without the white demon on your shoulder.”

  The room was silent. Seemed when Rahl spoke, people listened and what he said was pretty spot-on.

  Kirsch cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone who isn’t Jude or Kanyon can leave for the evening. Follow the plan as we discussed.”

  The next two hours were spent reviewing what was going to happen during detox. It didn’t sound too bad.

  The last hit will take me through until at least the morning.

  The fact I wasn’t entirely listening to Kirsch and was dreaming about my next hit probably wouldn’t surprise him. It didn’t me.

  Jude and Kanyon put me to bed like I imagined they would one of their own children. There was no tucking me in or kisses on my forehead, but the looks of disappointment reminded me of my childhood. My father and mother were parents in DNA only. I was the “oops, oh well” when they were in their mid-forties and dreaming of retirement. After a series of nannies made sure I didn’t die my first ten years of life, I raised myself from that point on while my parents worked long hours and weekends. Our weekly thirty-minute Sunday dinner before they retired to their home offices was the only time they pretended I existed.

  Their lives ended while I was in my first year of college. Ironic they never got to enjoy the retirement they were so looking forward to. More ironic that at Mom’s funeral I didn’t know her middle name was “Blair” like mine. My brother, Maxwell, who was twelve years older than me, stayed in touch by text and e-mail, but he didn’t live in Omaha. San Francisco was his and his boyfriend’s home. They’d adopted a five-year-old boy last year that I’d yet to meet.

  My sister, Elizabeth, lived here in Omaha, but since last May I’d stayed away from her and her family. She asked me to get help for my growing addiction to what was only pain relievers at that time and I told her it was none of her business. It was hard to hear, but I respected her for telling me to not come back until I was healthy. I missed my two nephews and my niece, and tonight I had proved I had it wrong back then. My using was her business. She had to make sure her family was protected. If my niece or one of my nephews had accidentally ingested coke, like Rory did, I couldn’t imagine what the high would’ve done to one of their undeveloped bodies or minds.

  I lay there thinking about the blue-eyed princess. Would she be able to understand? And would I be able to make this happen?

  She’s the one. And she’s worth the effort. But … am I?

  ****

  The hopeless dark of the room was fitting, but didn’t help to lessen the pounding in my head.

  Where am I? Oh, right. Prison … or hell.

  A timid knock on the door told me it wasn’t the Mr. Prison Warden. It was the Mrs.

  “Come in, Willow.”

  “Are you dressed?”

  “Yes.”

  The door cracked and she peeked in to make sure I was telling the truth. “I made some breakfast. Please come eat with me.”

  “Was this whole intervention thing your idea?”

  “Just come have something to eat and we can talk. Your toiletries and a bag of clothes are in the hall bathroom, if you want to shower and change.”

  “Mine?”

  “Rahl brought them over earlier.”

  I stood up and something on my body stood out.

  “Drexel!” Willow kept her eyes north of my equator.

  I turned my back to her and adjusted the morning sundial in my pants.

  I’d say it’s about nine a.m. by the looks of it.

  “It’s morning, Willow. Like Kanyon didn’t have one.”

  Willow snickered, turned, and her purple hair swung behind her. “Not after I got done with him.”

  “Didn’t need to know that, Harper!” I called after her, only to hear her giggling down the stairs.

  “It’s Harper-Hills now, Drexel!”

  Forgot.

  After a long shower, which still didn’t help my head, I met her in the kitchen. Never was one for a big breakfast but I pulled up a seat at the table and poured a glass of orange juice.

  “Kanyon gone?”

  “He’ll be back soon,” she said quickly.

  “Willow, relax, there’s still enough coke in my system to keep me from being a total dickhead. Give it another two days and I’ll be a jonesing asshole. It’s not like I haven’t tried to do this before, I know the drill.” I stood and ran my hands through my damp hair. “Shit! I need to call in to work.”

  “Presley took care of it for you, and she took care of getting two weeks—unpaid, of course—leave for you.”

  “What did she tell them?”

  “I don’t know. Just be thankful they agreed to the time off and you aren’t fired.”

  I grabbed a piece of bacon. “I am. Please tell her that.”

  Willow set down a plate of French toast. “Maybe you should start telling people how much you appreciate what they’re doing for you, but I think she knows.”

  I stared at Willow and she smiled. I’d never had someone want to or make the effort to take care of me. Accepting they wanted to help me, then watching as they did for me what I’d always done for myself, and finally making the effort to voice my appreciation were common manners I hadn’t perfected. There was rarely anyone around to say “thank you” or more to growing up. All of these people wanted to help me, be here for me, at least they acted like they did.

  I’ll just have to be ready for when
they get tired of me and move on soon.

  “How’d you get stuck with guard duties first?” I asked as she sat in a chair.

  “It’s not prison, Drex. Your reasons for being and staying here need to be stronger than our reasons for wanting you here. I think you want to be freed from a prison you’re keeping yourself in, but you can leave our home whenever you want. Well, once your car comes back, which should be this morning.”

  I’d have to make some serious decisions when my car came back. I doubted they’d be able to find all of my stashes. Creativity in concealment was job number one for a user, after actually using.

  I slid a piece of bread onto my plate and smothered it in syrup until it was a syrup soup with French toast crouton. “How’s Grace?”

  Willow and Kanyon’s daughter had made quite an impression on me the few times I’d been around her. She was a miniature of her mother, Moriah. Sometimes seeing Grace with her blonde hair that echoed her mother’s brought back memories of that horrible night. I’d never forget looking into someone’s lifeless eyes. Thankfully, Grace had Kanyon’s nickel-sized green eyes and not Moriah’s blue eyes.

  “She’s good. There have been some bad nights when she has a nightmare and calls out for Moriah and it twists my heart like a pretzel.” Willow’s eyes watered and she went back to cleaning the pots and pans in the sink. “But sometimes I think Moriah’s death was only a dream, so it’s hard not to imagine what her little brain tells her.”

  I ate in silence. After my parents died, I experienced a few nights where my brain tried to tell me they were still here, so I could understand what Grace was going through.

  “Drex, I don’t know how to ask this, so I’m just going to. Do you think you are to blame for Moriah’s death?”

  That was Willow. She had some weird sixth sense and she asked a question she probably already knew the answer to. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders as her blurted inquiry dug into my skeleton and burrowed pretty deep into my gut.

  That was a question I couldn’t answer with certainty. If I’d only been a few minutes earlier, I could’ve stopped her from overdosing. Moriah made the choice, but there was a chance the same would’ve happened some other time, too. When a user reached a certain point, life appeared mortally inevitable. Moriah had walked the edge probably a lot longer than I had, and I could feel I was close to the same precipice but I didn’t want to fall over. I wanted to back away slowly and that was the plan. Moriah never saw the edge; she had the chance I’d been given, but she wasn’t able to see backward was a step in the right direction.

  “Drexel, I want you to see something.” Willow walked to a cupboard and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I think you should read this. It might clear your conscience, if it needs it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just read and then we’ll talk. I’m going to go do some laundry. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  I ate a few more bites of French toast soup and pushed the sugary mess away from me. I read the letter once and then again. The second time, my blood pressure ticked higher.

  Willow dropped into the chair to my right. “Any questions?”

  “I’m supposed to believe some guy named Ridge transcribed a letter from a ghost of Moriah’s spirit to Kanyon about how blameless her death was and how great the afterlife is?”

  “Yes,” Kanyon answered from behind me. He slid into the chair to my left. “Ridge is Willow’s brother. He has a gift for communicating with the dead. Moriah came to him. Actually, she pestered the shit out of him after our wedding until he wrote that letter. Drexel, Moriah’s death isn’t on your shoulders. Thank you for taking out that piece-of-crap boyfriend of hers and trying to get what some might not see as justice—but I do—for Moriah.”

  “So this is real?” I rested my arms on the table and stared at the words scrawled in a black pen on the paper.

  Willow grabbed my hand. “The real part is that you’re still here and you deserve the happy ending Moriah never got to have.”

  The dog barked as the front door opened. Kirsch greeted the dog with what the dog probably thought was his name—“get off of me”.

  “Hey, Drex, how are you feeling today?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Good. I want to take advantage of that. Even with some residual in your system we can work on a few things.”

  Kanyon and Willow left for an appointment, or at least that’s what they said.

  We moved into the family room and I wondered if I should lie down on the sofa like some Sigmund Freud move. I decided to sit in the recliner and the dog laid at my feet.

  “Drex, I watched your interaction with the guys last night.”

  “And?”

  “How do you feel about what they’re doing for you?”

  I picked up my glass hoping water would help my resolve move in a new direction. The drink at least made my throat relax.

  “Uncomfortable … like I’m a child.”

  “Let’s look at each of those separately.”

  He thought there was some sort of emotional component to my using, but I assured him over and over there wasn’t. The need was simply pain management. But at the end of our conversation, I realized I hadn’t felt the normal twinges of shoulder pain that morning, probably from the remaining coke lingering to mask the discomfort.

  His therapeutic session had been about as opposite as I imagined therapy could be. Kirsch was a ballbuster, and even after feeling slightly violated, I thanked him for his time and help. The words didn’t flow naturally, but I figured if I hadn’t learned them as a child, it would take time. I hoped my friends had patience to match that time.

  Kanyon and Willow returned home as our session was finishing. Kirsch left to sign paperwork on an apartment. He’d been living with Jude and Presley and he said the newlyweds needed their space, especially with a baby on the way.

  I stood and walked into the kitchen. “I’d like to call Aurora, please.” I needed time to think and space to get away, and the request seemed like a good way to get some of both.

  “Your phone is still in your car, but you can call her on my cell.” Kanyon held out his phone.

  “Shit, I don’t have her—”

  “Ollie put her number into my phone last night.”

  Aston never stayed mad for long. A day that would test his limits wasn’t ever going to come. I promised myself I’d remember what he’d done.

  I did like pulling his chain once in a while, though.

  “Am I allowed to do this in private?” I stared at the phone resting in my hand.

  “I don’t see why not. You can use the office or your bedroom.”

  Willow put some groceries away. “How’d your day go?”

  I reached down and petted the dog, mostly to avoid answering.

  “Drex, you don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry for asking.”

  “No, thanks for asking, I’m really not sure how it went. Kirsch is good, but I’m not positive my issues are psychological. I think they’re medical-pain management.”

  Kanyon and Willow both wore the smile I’d been noticing for a while lately. It was the pity-slash-questioning-slash-doubtful smile.

  “Apparently Kirsch is really good at what he does. He got a job at the top private recovery center in town. He postponed his start date so he could work with you, Drex.”

  “Fuck.” I breathed out the word, then walked to my bedroom and lay on the bed with Kanyon’s phone in my hand.

  Please answer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aurora

  Oliver texted me several times last night while they were getting Drexel settled in for what sounded like addiction jail to me. I asked if I could see him in the morning and Oliver responded with a simple texted “no.” That response frightened me and annoyed me. Loving someone meant wanting to be there for them when they’re at their highs and when they hit their lows. I wasn’t scared about how low Drex would go. I was worried if he’d ever be able to hit a high
without the artificial helper.

  I worked out at Triple R in the morning, mostly to see Jude, but he wasn’t there. Ollie had asked me not to text or call Drexel until the therapist gave the go-ahead for him to contact me, but I craved information.

  My phone buzzed when I was on my way back into my apartment.

  Dad: I want to talk to you when I get home.

  Aurora: I’ll be at my place.

  If he knew about Drexel’s addiction, his ultra-protective instincts were going to surface. I was going to have to find a way to make the two men in my life … stay in my life.

  After lunch, my doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a smiling face surrounded by red ringlets of hair.

  “Hope it’s okay, I let myself in the gate.”

  “Of course. Come in!”

  Avery held up a bag of food as she crossed into the kitchen. “Hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  She lifted another bag, bearing the name of a local wine and spirits shop. “Thirsty?”

  “Yes!” I reached into the bag and pulled out two bottles of wine. “Thank you!” I hugged her from the side.

  We filled a plate of cheese and crackers to share, and I poured two glasses of wine.

  Avery tucked her legs under her and leaned her left side against the back of the sofa. “Have you heard from Drexel?”

  “No. Nothing. And nothing from the guys.”

  “I’m sure everything is fine.”

  That word. Fine is never fine.

  “Rory, are you sure Drexel’s the right guy and maybe not just a guy?”

  A big sip of the wine cleared my head and burned my chest. I explained our past history, how Drexel and I kept coming back together. “It’s not chance, and it’s not destiny, it’s something even clearer, deeper, and stronger. I’d like him to be mine forever, but honestly, I want him to be healthy and happy, even if it’s not with me.”

  “Not sure he even deserves you after what happened last night,” she mumbled before taking a drink.

  “Last night was an accident. I’ve forgiven him. I hope you can, too.”