Overtime

by Toni Aleo

  “Oh yes, he’s still in jail. But he is up for parole this year,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “I understand that you don’t remember this, and that’s fine, but your drinking started up more than usual this year. Such a coincidence that the year Gary Davis goes up for parole is the year you’re forced to go to rehab.”

  Sucking in a breath at the sound of his abuser’s name, Jordie shook his head. “That’s not the reason I drink.”

  “Then what is?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered quickly.

  “Fine then, but this is part of your history, and I am reviewing it to remind you why you are here. Now, please allow me to finish. I let you talk when you want to complain and moan about being here, now allow me to finish,” she snapped, and Jordie glared as the stares from his fellow group members made the room feel as if it were closing in. So mousy therapist lady had a tough side. Good to know, not that he fucking cared. Sucking in another breath, he crossed his arms tightly over his chest for protection as she went on. “Now, after years of therapy, they deemed you to have extreme trauma from the episode, which was expected—it was a very horrifying experience. You didn’t speak to anyone for two years, but somehow, your therapist writes that you recovered when you started playing hockey. He says you were a different child, that hockey healed you. It does say that you did shut down whenever anyone said his name or even brought up what happened. They feared you had suppressed the tragedy and suggested more therapy, but your mother pulled you.”

  God, this was torture. Of course, he had suppressed the whole thing. It was horrible and he could still, to this day, hear his mother bitching from the bedroom about all the trials and how fucked up he had been. Hockey saved him because Lord knows his mom was too consumed with her own issues to worry about him. He loved his mother…but only because he had to. She didn’t make his life easier to say the least, and she may have been the reason for a lot of the discrepancies in that file. Their relationship had always been strained, especially in his older years. He was more a problem to her than her child.

  “But then the ADHD and anxiety started when you turned fourteen, which resulted in more therapy and meds. They said the anxiety was brought on by the multiple men that your mother married and divorced during your childhood. But when they suggested you be removed from the home, you fought it because you didn’t want to leave your mom.”

  He’d thought maybe if he stayed, she’d love him, but it never happened. She cared more about the different men that were “Daddy” each year than she did about him. Sad, yeah, but he’d hardly call that a reason to drink. Letting out a long breath, he watched as the therapist met his gaze and she shook her head.

  “And then came the death of Robbie Lincoln.”

  Hearing that name made all the hairs on Jordie’s arms stand at attention. His chest seized, his breathing became labored, and he had to look away. He didn’t think of Robbie much because he wouldn’t allow himself to. He wanted to tell her to stop but she was proving a point, and he refused to let her know that she was slowly but surely killing him from the inside.

  “He was your best friend who was stabbed by a boy when he tried to stop three other boys from killing you, according to what the report says. After that, you didn’t show up to therapy anymore, and then the drinking started. You were arrested for DUI and public intoxication twice before you were eighteen. Your coach told you to clean up or you would lose your scholarship to Wisconsin.”

  “And I did. The end,” he said when she paused, clapping his hands. “All that says is that I’ve had a shitty past. It doesn’t define me now.”

  “It does,” she said, meeting his heated and embarrassed gaze. “All that is the foundation of the reason why you drink. It started young—when something bad happens, you shut down and check out of this world. This time, it was your injury, I’m sure. But then something is telling me it’s more. A woman, maybe? Because the last girl you were with that you considered a girlfriend was the one who almost got you killed. Since then, you’ve jumped from bed to bed, never allowing anyone in.”

  He shook his head, slowly taking in breaths through his nose and letting them out of his mouth. “You don’t know shit.”

  “I know a lot. And, Jordie, the thing is, I’m here to help you. How are you going to really learn how to deal with your feelings if you won’t share them with me? Are you scared?”

  “Fucking shit, I’m not scared of anything,” he said, but even he didn’t hear conviction in his voice. He knew it was a lie. There was something—no, someone, that he was scared of.

  Himself.

  “The point of my job is to help you, and I think you forget that I’m the signature you need to get out of here.”

  His brows crashed together as he sat up higher in his seat. “Are you threatening me?”

  She chuckled softly. “I don’t threaten—I remind. And I suggest that you open up to me before it’s too late. Only forty-five days left.”

  Yeah, forty-five days of fucking hell, he thought as he shook his head, looking down at the ground. He hated hearing his past; it needed to stay where it belonged—in the past. But he also hated how right she was. What happened to his boy Robbie was what started the drinking. It was the way he got rid of the feelings and fear. There wasn’t a time when he did allow himself to think about Robbie that he didn’t wish it was he who had died. Robbie was a good guy and the only other person, along with Angie, whom he’d trusted. But then Angie betrayed him and Robbie was dead, so all he had was the bottle since his mom was too busy looking for another man to love her. She was constantly fighting for love and looking for it that it scared Jordie to even try for it. It never seemed to be attainable. So why try for something that would never be his?

  Running his fingers through his hair, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen this before. Hearing his past wasn’t easy, knowing the sure signs of his issues didn’t settle in his stomach right. Maybe he wasn’t a full-blown alcoholic, but he was tiptoeing along the line and he wasn’t sure what side he’d end up on. He did know that he didn’t want to end up facedown in a ditch, suffocating on his own vomit, before losing his life to the sickness. He also didn’t want to be like his mother, so unhappy by herself that she needed a man.

  Was he doing that with the bottle? Because he couldn’t trust women, he only used them for sex, but a part of him was getting so tired of that. He had really wanted to try with Kacey; a part of him had felt like love was actually realistic when he was with her. But the other part of him knew he wasn’t ready for that. He wanted to trust her fully, or trust anyone for that matter. He wanted to allow himself to truly love someone. He wanted more from his life, but he didn’t know how to get it.

  Something had to change.

  He had to change.

  But did he want to?

  And could he?

  Jordie didn’t say anything else during the group meeting.

  As he sat there, reevaluating his life, he couldn’t be more disgusted. He hadn’t lived the life he wanted, minus the hockey, and he really didn’t have any good memories.

  Except Kacey.

  Kacey was every good memory he had in his whole damn life, but then he did the dumb-ass thing of letting her go. Letting go of the light in his life. Another bad choice. As he walked back to the closet they said was his room, each bad choice he’d made stared back at him and he hated it. It was like he was living a lie. Everything he did wasn’t what he wanted, and most of the time all he thought about was drinking. How pathetic. He couldn’t name one good thing in his life at that moment. No, wait, his game was good when he actually got to play it. But off the ice, what did he have?

  Nothing except his Jack.

  Fuck. Maybe he was an alcoholic.

  Man, that therapist had really gotten to him because all he could do was think of his life thus far. He hated the pain he’d caused people, the people he’d lied to, and most of all, the love he’d thrown back in so many people’s faces. He honestly didn’t
understand why Karson was still his friend. He was the only one who stood strong beside him, no matter what. For the first year of their friendship, all Jordie did was drink and Karson was the one picking him up to take him home. Covering up why he didn’t go to practice. It took a month of that before Karson shook him hard and told him to clean it up before he didn’t make the draft, something they both wanted. So he did, but that only lasted until he was in the NHL. Then most the time he slept because he was so tired, only binge drinking on the weekend.

  Then there were three years that Jordie ignored Karson’s calls. All because he called Karson on a drunken night and spilled the beans about everything. The rape, Robbie’s murder, and all the other craptastic things that he had done. The nights when he would make himself puke just to get the alcohol out of him so that he could get on the ice the next morning. Or how he would sell his roommate’s things to get money for booze.

  Shit, he was an alcoholic.

  Slamming his door, he wobbled over to his bed and slowly lifted his leg onto the mattress. It was rehabbing great but, for some reason, being here, the pain was overwhelming. Since he was trying to prove that he wasn’t an addict, he was forgoing his pain meds, though he still craved a drink. Just a small one, something to take the edge off. Closing his eyes tightly, he shook his head.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Before he could analyze anymore, his phone rang. Not looking at where he was grasping on his nightstand, he finally took his phone in his hand and brought it out so he could see who was calling.

  It was Karson.

  Hitting Talk, he brought it to his ear. “What’s up, bro?”

  “Hey, how ya doing?” he asked in his carefree way. Karson had the life. Beautiful wife, great home, and a baby on the way. The American dream. Something that, at this point, Jordie was convinced he couldn’t have.

  “This day has quickly gone to shit,” he admitted as he closed his eyes. Karson, Lacey, Elli, and her husband Shea were the only ones who knew he was in rehab. Like everyone promised, it was very quiet. No one knew he was here, and he wanted to keep it that way. This place was for failures, people who couldn’t get their shit together, and he didn’t want to seem that weak.

  Jordie Thomas was not fucking weak.

  “The damn therapist is on me like you wouldn’t believe. Wanting me to open up and shit.”

  “Couldn’t hurt you,” Karson suggested. “Maybe it could help?”

  “Eh, I don’t know,” Jordie grumbled as he rolled to his side. “I just want out.”

  “I know, man. We want you home, but you gotta get better.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t answer right away, and Jordie knew it was because he didn’t agree. “Are you trying?”

  “Not at all,” Jordie admitted and Karson let out a long breath.

  “Man, I need you to.”

  “I know, so does everyone else. But I’m fine, really.”

  “No, really,” Karson stressed, and Jordie’s brow came up.

  “No really, what? I’m telling you the truth, man.”

  He paused and Jordie waited on edge as his friend got his words together. “I want my best friend back.” Something about that sentence just gutted Jordie. Closing his eyes, he covered them with his hand, feeling every bit guilty. “You’ve changed, Jordie. You’ve always been a bit of an asshole, and always been busy with the ladies, but lately it’s been so bad. You aren’t you, and I don’t get it. I get the injury hurt you, man—it did all of us. But you’re supposed to bounce back, not drink yourself stupid.”

  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he nodded because Karson was completely right and it scared the shit out of Jordie. “I know.”

  “Please fix you. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

  “I know, Kar,” Jordie whispered. “But I gotta be the one to fix this. I gotta want it.”

  He may not have acted like he was listening to Therapy Lady, but he did. He knew what he needed to do; no one could help him but him. This place wouldn’t do anything for him if he didn’t want it.

  “You do,” Karson added, and then he cleared his throat. “Because we don’t want anyone else to be the godfather of our baby girl but you.”

  “What?” Jordie whispered, trying to catch his breath because surely he had heard him wrong.

  “We want you to be the baby’s godfather, but I can’t ask you to take on the role unless you are healthy, Jordie. Not just for our baby, but for you. I want you to be happy.”

  “Are you sure you want that? Me?” he gasped, still unable to catch his breath.

  “Yeah, Uncle Jordie, you’re it for our little baby girl.”

  Fear settled in his chest where pride should have been. This was a great honor, something he knew he wanted, but would he be enough for the precious baby that his best friend’s wife was carrying? He knew he wouldn’t be if he stayed in the mind-set he was in right now. If the drinking was more important than anything else. Hell, he wouldn’t trust himself with a baby. He wouldn’t even let himself near one. He was too fucked up.

  He had to change.

  “I got you, Kar,” he croaked out and Karson chuckled.

  “I know, bro, that’s why this wasn’t hard choice. It’s you and that’s it. You’ll fix this, I know you will. You’re too damn stubborn to allow it to defeat you.”

  Such blind faith Karson had in him. Jordie wished he could borrow some of it. Tears stung his eyes as he closed them tightly. He never cried. Never, and at this moment, he wanted to cry. “I haven’t been the greatest best friend to you.”

  “No, you haven’t, not all the time. But when you are, you’re the best.”

  Not all the time…

  Jordie cleared his throat, sitting up slowly. “I’m sorry for all the wrong I’ve done you, man.”

  “Forgiven,” Karson said without even thinking. “Just get healthy and that’ll be your apology to me, okay?”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “Good, I’m holding you to it. So is Little-Bit-who-still-has-not-been-named.”

  As a tear rolled down his cheek into his beard, he smiled. “Jordie is a good middle name.”

  Karson laughed before yelling out, “Jordie said his name is a good middle name for Baby Unnamed.”

  “The hell,” he heard Lacey say. “No way, but it will be a J name for sure. And an M name for Kacey.”

  “Kacey?” he croaked out.

  “Yeah, she’s going to be the godmother.”

  His heart sped up in his chest. “So if you two keel over, we play Mom and Dad to Little Bit?”

  Karson laughed. “In retrospect, yes.”

  “So I get to bang your sister?” he teased and Karson groaned.

  “Such a great conversation until that moment. I’ll call you tomorrow, asshole,” Karson laughed.

  “Bye, bro,” Jordie sang with his first true grin in months, before handing up and letting his phone drop between his legs. Looking up at the ceiling, he sucked in a deep breath as the nerves ate away at him.

  This was not going to be easy, but he could do it. He was stronger than this; he was a beast of a man, nothing could get him down. How could he allow his need for a drink to ruin his life? The signs were everywhere, blinking in his face and blinding him. He had to stop. This place opened his eyes, and he just couldn’t do it anymore. He had a baby girl to be a godfather to, and he wouldn’t let Lacey and Karson down.

  Definitely not the baby they were about to have.

  It was time to be the man he wanted to be.

  It was time to live the life he wanted.

  And maybe, just maybe, he could get the love he wanted too.

  Because her being the godmother to his godfather wasn’t enough.

  He wanted Kacey to be his.

  Liam Kelly really had dreamy eyes and a wonderful bod.

  But holy crap, he was boring.

  Leaning on her hand, Kacey tried to pay attention as he talked about his cat, but really
? This was her life right now? Greek god of a man was a cat guy? What the ever-loving fuck was going on here, and why didn’t she see this at the barbecue? He was funny there, full of wit, and good Lord, dreamy. So of course, she jumped at the chance of a date when he asked if she wanted to get together. What she didn’t expect was for him to text her the next morning and to set something up the following night. She was cool though, she was ready. But now that she was here, she wished she would have done another group setting with him.

  She just didn’t get it. Why couldn’t she find a dude that was her match? He’d seemed so cool at the barbecue, but now, now he was awkward. Was it really that hard to find someone who wanted a dog, a white picket fence, and some kids, while keeping her completely and utterly satisfied in bed and also making her laugh? That was a requirement. Of course, thinking of laughing made her think of Jordie, and then she was instantly depressed. Jordie was a hoot. He could have her crying from laughter in two seconds flat, and for the stupidest reasons too. His crude humor got her every time, and sometimes she knew that a sweet, classy girl shouldn’t find that kind of thing funny, but she sure did.

  But Liam was not being funny.

  Blinking to keep from falling asleep, she focused on his mouth, which was downright sinful, as he went on.

  “Her name is Buttons because, when I first got her, she ate all the buttons off my shirts,” he said with a laugh and she smiled.

  “How adorable.”

  He smiled. “Stupid, I know. I’m kind of a boring guy. It’s hockey and my cat, that’s it.”

  Which wasn’t a bad thing, Kacey! Straighten up! He was boring, which was good—bad guys had drama that broke girl’s hearts! Liam Kelly was not a heartbreaker.

  “No, it’s sweet. I’m more of a dog gal though.”

  “Oh yeah, I love dogs. But when I’m gone, it’s hard on a dog. Cats are easy, they don’t need as much attention,” he agreed with a nod before taking a pull of his beer. “When I find someone who wants to marry me, then I’ll get a dog.”