Follow Me Back

by A. Meredith Walters

  Because I wanted him to kiss me. Because as much as I was trying desperately to believe otherwise, I knew that I loved this man, as much as I ever had. It was a love without logic. It was a love without sense. It was a love that had no real place in the world I was trying to build for myself.

  You can’t move on from a love like that. Even if it was destined to only bring you pain.

  I stared down at his face and saw the way he was tearing himself apart. Over me. Over everything he had done. I couldn’t sit there and let him beat himself up like that, even if a part of me yelled, He deserves this!

  I covered his hand with mine, squeezing lightly. “I made my choices, Maxx. I knew what I was getting into the first time we kissed. I made the decision to cross that line. I knew what was at stake by loving you. But even after everything, I can’t regret it. Not ever. I’m angry with you. So damn angry, Maxx. But I don’t regret you. Not even a little bit,” I whispered, having lost the ability to speak any louder.

  Maxx dropped his forehead to my knee and wrapped his arms around my calves. “I’m so, so sorry, Aubrey.” His voice sounded broken.

  I lifted my hand and let it hover for a moment over the back of his head, not sure if I should touch him. I didn’t know what to do. I was torn in half. I dropped my hand to my side and leaned back. “Maxx. Please, stop it,” I said gently, making my choice.

  Maxx released me from his hold and moved backward, furiously wiping his cheeks with his hands. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry, Aubrey. I just keep doing the wrong thing when it comes to you,” he apologized, looking embarrassed by his breakdown.

  I couldn’t help it. This time I did the only thing my hurting heart would allow. Even if it was wrong and stupid.

  I touched him.

  I reached out and put my hand on the side of his face, reveling in the contact I had denied myself. I was disgusted that I was enjoying it, but I didn’t pull away. Maxx leaned into my palm.

  “The one thing you don’t have to be sorry about is the future of my academic career. I’m dealing with it. It’s handled. It really has nothing to do with you,” I told him.

  Maxx let out a chuckle. “I must sound like the worst kind of narcissist, insisting that everything in your life has to do with me.”

  “For a little while, it did,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

  Maxx grabbed my hand, the one cupping his face, brought it to his mouth, and tenderly kissed my palm. His lips lingered on my skin as he stared into my eyes. His kiss burned like a brand. We gazed at each other, the air sizzling and electric. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

  Then he got to his feet. “But not anymore,” he said, wiping the last of the tears from his face. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen. “I’ve got to get going. I have a meeting at the financial aid office,” he said, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

  “Oh, okay,” I said, feeling completely off balance.

  “It seems I lost most of my financial assistance for school. I have to go and figure out whether there’s any chance that I can come back next semester to finish my degree,” Maxx said on a sigh.

  “I . . . I hope it works out,” I said sincerely.

  “Me, too.” He turned and walked to the door and I followed him.

  “I’m sorry I came here like this. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said as he opened the door.

  I shook my head. “Don’t be. It’s . . . it’s fine.” I had resorted to insincere niceties, having nothing else to say.

  “Thanks for not shutting the door in my face,” Maxx said, giving me a weak smile. I opened my mouth to respond but my voice failed me. And then he was gone.

  chapter

  sixteen

  maxx

  some mornings I would wake up and the first thing I’d think about, even before my eyes had a chance to open, was drugs.

  What it felt like to be stoned. Where I could get them if I really wanted them. Who I had to call to score as soon as possible. How soon it would be until I was so fucking high I thought I’d never come down again.

  Then I’d get up and start my day, and those brief instances of exhilaration, thinking about my long-lost love, would evaporate under the weight of my new life. And I’d start feeling depressed. These were dark times, when I thought about the person I was before I had gone into rehab and how far I was from the confident, self-assured man I had thought I was. For some odd reason I couldn’t conjure up the bad and horrible about the person I used to be.

  All I could remember in those bleak moments was how I had felt on top of the world. My body craved that feeling again. The physical addiction had subsided in the weeks since I had last used. What I fought against now, every second of every day, was all in my fucking head.

  It was the memory that was the danger now. Everything was a trigger. Everything reminded me of what it was like when I was high. At times, particularly when I was alone, with only my wretched self for company, it was almost impossible to ignore the cravings.

  With Marco continuing to blow up my phone the temptation was tantalizingly close. So I kept myself as busy as possible. Not being in school made that hard, but I filled my hours with legal things. Because Maxx Demelo had officially turned over a new leaf.

  I had gone to the meeting with Leah Fletcher, who had walked me through the process of applying for some grants for “disadvantaged students.” She had me complete new paperwork and was able to scrounge up enough government aid to cover tuition for next semester. That would be enough time, if I busted my ass, to finish my degree.

  But I still needed money to live. Pay bills. Keep a roof over my head. Food in my stomach. All of those necessities that were essential in order to stay alive so I could graduate. It would be such an easy fix to call Gash and jump back into the club and my role there. The money was good, the adrenaline rush was even better.

  But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  So I had entered the world of the gainfully yet miserably employed. When I wasn’t shoveling horseshit at the stables just outside of town—a job I found on Craigslist—I was burning off my skin at the local coffee shop. The whole thing really sucked.

  But I’d stick it out. I had to. Though one thing was for sure, walking the straight and narrow was much harder than I ever thought it would be.

  In my efforts to be Maxx Demelo, Recovering Addict, there was one thing I still hadn’t done: go downtown to make an intake appointment for my outpatient counseling. I knew that I needed to. I had a meeting with my probation officer next week and it was important I show that I was continuing with treatment.

  He had known I was in rehab but not that I’d almost died on a bathroom floor from a drug overdose. If he had been privy to that knowledge, I wouldn’t be sitting here on the outside. I’d be sitting in a jail cell feeling pretty damn sorry for myself.

  It was Saturday morning and I woke up with four hours to kill before I had to be out at the horse stables. Kenny Wyatt, who ran the place, hadn’t been exactly impressed with my lack of general horse knowledge when I had called him up and asked him about the job. Luckily the horrible pay and even worse duties didn’t make “stable hand” very popular for those seeking employment. Kenny had hired me on the spot, though he was less than pleased about it.

  There was nothing less attractive than coming home smelling like you had spent the day rolling around in manure. Feeling restless and unwilling to sit around my apartment chewing on my nails, I grabbed my car keys and headed out, no real destination in mind.

  It was a sunny day and the streets were busy. My car petered along, clunking noisily. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw black smoke billowing out from the back.

  I wished I had somewhere to go. I felt displaced and isolated. The only real connections I had ever had were with people who now wanted nothing to do with me. I picked up my phone but then dropped it again, knowing that I had no one to call. I felt a sharp pain in my chest that was a lot like loneliness. A memory r
esurfaced unbidden.

  “I hate living here, Maxx.” Landon’s voice was small and timid. We had only been living with our uncle David for a few weeks, but I could already tell it was not going to be a good situation. Two hours after dropping us off at his house, he had left, with no indication of where he was going.

  He had been gone for three days.

  When he came back, he reeked of stale booze and looked as though he hadn’t showered in a month. He hadn’t acknowledged either of us and had instead gone to his room, where he proceeded to sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

  This was our life now. But at least I had Landon. And he had me.

  He was the only thing in my stupid, messed-up life that made me feel good. Even if the responsibility of taking care of him felt like a noose around my neck sometimes.

  I threw my arm around Landon’s shoulders. “Yeah, me, too, buddy, but we’ve got each other. We’ll be all right,” I promised, meaning it.

  Landon was small for his age and barely came up to my shoulder. He was a clingy kid who followed me around everywhere. A normal teenage brother would have been annoyed by his tagalong brother. But we weren’t normal.

  “Okay, Maxx,” Landon replied.

  I knew he missed our dad. Even though he hadn’t been the best parent at the end, he was still the only parent Landon had ever known. He didn’t remember Mom. And I hated that.

  Now I was the only parental figure that he had.

  “You wanna learn how to check the oil in a car?” I asked, wanting to distract the poor kid from our shitty life.

  Landon’s face brightened considerably. “Yeah!” he enthused, eager to spend time with his big brother.

  “Come on, then, let’s go out in the garage. Dad’s old Mustang is out there.”

  Just as I was about to get up, Landon wrapped his skinny arms around me and squeezed. “You’re the best brother ever, Maxx,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed himself into my chest. I stiffened for a moment but I didn’t pull away.

  I hugged him back, not caring that I looked like a total pussy for embracing my brother.

  He needed the affection.

  I did, too.

  I shook my head, clearing my mind of the memory.

  I missed Landon. I missed the relationship we used to have. I needed him back in my life.

  So I turned down a side street and started to pass familiar houses. I pulled up in front of the one-level brick house where I had spent my bleak formative years, and killed the engine.

  I hadn’t called Landon since leaving rehab, knowing that what I had to say was better said in person. Though I was terrified that the kid who I had practically raised wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

  I was sweating bullets, which wasn’t like me at all. Well, it wasn’t like the old me, anyway. This new me seemed to get freaked out over everything.

  I walked up on the porch and put my hand on the doorknob and then thought better of it. Ringing the doorbell, I stood back and waited.

  Landon appeared after only a few seconds and looked irritated at seeing me standing there.

  “You’re out, I guess,” he said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest like the teenager he was.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, I am.”

  “I thought you’d call,” my brother said bitterly.

  “I would have if I thought you would have answered,” I threw back.

  Landon rolled his eyes.

  “So are we going to have this conversation out here or can I come inside?” I asked.

  “David’ll probably be back soon, so maybe another time.” Landon started to close the door and I stuck my foot out, wedging it in the jamb.

  “Look, Landon, I know you’re pissed at me, but there are things I need to say, that you need to hear. I fucked up, buddy. Big-time. Give me a chance to make it right.”

  I saw Landon waver and he dropped his eyes. “Okay. But not for long. I’ve got stuff to do.”

  I wanted to laugh at his petulance, but I knew that would be a bad move, given the state of our relationship.

  “Not a problem.” I walked into my uncle’s house and for the first time I didn’t feel angry and resentful toward the man who had begrudgingly taken us in after our dad’s death. What was the point in wasting the energy to hate him? It hurt me more than it hurt him. And I couldn’t focus on that sort of bullshit. Not now when I was trying to make the people I cared about see how much I had changed.

  And holding on to bad blood kept me stuck. And stuck was not something I wanted to be.

  “Can I get something to drink?” I asked, noting how unchanged everything was. The same green-and-tan sofa that had been there for the last decade was pushed against the wall. The stained rug that had been my grandparents’ laid haphazardly on the floor.

  “Yeah, you know where everything is,” Landon said, sitting down on the couch and turning up the volume on the television. He wasn’t going to make things easy, that’s for sure.

  I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, surprised to see that it was full of food. I checked the cabinets and found that they, too, were full. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap and returned to the living room.

  “You doing the grocery shopping now?” I asked.

  Landon didn’t bother to look at me as he answered, his eyes still trained on the cartoon that played on the screen. “Nah. David’s been home a lot more. He got a job at the county office building doing maintenance.”

  “Are you shitting me? Is he on something?” I asked, hardly able to believe that David had turned over a new leaf. Though if I was capable of change, why not my dickhead uncle?

  “No, I think that’s your thing, not his,” Landon said blandly.

  “Okay, I deserved that,” I stated.

  Landon flipped the channel, still not looking at me.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls while you were gone,” Landon said gruffly, as though the apology was cutting into his throat.

  “You don’t need to apologize. I get it,” I told him.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” Landon said, his voice rising.

  “Seriously, I do. I know you’re upset with me—”

  “Maxx, stop it. Just listen to me. For once.” He threw the remote onto the coffee table and finally turned to look at me. Sometimes he reminded me so much of our dad. They had the same sandy-colored hair and pronounced jaw. And even though Landon was young when our father died, he had somehow adopted so many of his mannerisms that it was sometimes unsettling. Like the way his eyes flashed and his jaw ticked when he was pissed off.

  Even though I was on the receiving end of my brother’s ire, I was glad to hear the strength in his tone. He had finally grown a pair.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Landon clenched his hands into fists, and two red splotches spread across his cheeks. I felt tense, with no idea what was coming next.

  “I . . . I can’t believe how much you lied to me. You’re . . . you’re such a hypocrite . . . this whole time you’ve just been this . . . this drug addict.” He spat the words at me like they were dirty.

  “You were the only person in my life I knew would always be straight with me. No matter what. But I can’t ever trust anything you say again. You’re just a big, fat liar.”

  I felt wounded. He didn’t get it, didn’t understand that things weren’t so black and white. Suddenly I was pissed that he was attacking me like this. How quickly he forgot that I was the one who had always made sure he had dinner. I was the one who had always gotten him up for school and made him do his homework. Yeah, I had fucked up. Big-time. But that didn’t negate the years of bullshit I went through making sure he was taken care of.

  “Now, hang on a sec. I know that I let you down. I get that you feel betrayed. But don’t for one second think that lying to you was easy. And everything I did was for you. You could be a little more fucking grateful,” I snapped, feeling my patience for
his surly attitude hanging by a thread.

  Landon gave an incredulous snort that made me want to hit something. “So this is my fault? That’s messed up, Maxx, even for you,” he scoffed.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

  “What if you’d died, Maxx?”

  My angry defensiveness fizzled out. Landon looked stricken, and I felt like an ass for trying to defend myself at all. Talk about a fucking punch to the gut.

  Shit. He was right.

  I had almost died. Then where would Landon have been?

  I was a fucking hypocrite. I was so damn selfish.

  “Landon. I . . . I thought I had everything tight and controlled. I was such an idiot. I didn’t really think about what I was doing to you. Because, honestly, I didn’t even know what I was doing to myself.”

  “What about Aubrey? How about what you did to her?” Landon asked, and my heart stopped and then started up again painfully.

  “Yeah, I messed up with Aubrey, too,” I admitted, feeling weird talking about my girl problems with my kid brother.

  “So I’m guessing she dropped you on your ass?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I argued, though that’s exactly what had happened. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t prepared for a conversation like this with Landon, of all people.

  “Look, Landon . . . I get that you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. But you’re my brother. We’ve got to work this stuff out. I’m trying really hard here. I just want you to see that.” Landon refused to look at me.

  “I’m working at the coffee shop on campus. Landon . . . I’m making fucking coffee! That should tell you how serious I am to do things right,” I said.

  Landon’s lips quirked. Just the slightest movement, but it was something. “You could come by sometime and I’ll make you a latte or some froufrou shit.” I was trying to be funny, but it sounded pretty strained.

  My brother snorted. “If you make coffee like you cook, I think I’ll pass.”

  “Hey, it’s not that bad. I’ve almost figured out how to use the espresso machine without burning myself,” I joked, my laugh sounding rusty and unused.