It’s only two weeks until Christmas. I wonder if Holly will still be in treatment then. I hope not. No one should have to spend the holidays like that. Maybe the fact that she had fully detoxed before entering the ward will work in her favor. But where will she go once she gets out?
Tasha and I packed up her apartment three days after she went into rehab. It turned out she hadn’t paid the rent in a few months and it wasn’t the first time she had fallen behind. After a short conversation with Holly, Tasha called and asked me if I would help pack. As much as she’s not comfortable with my borderline obsession with her friend, she doesn’t seem to have a problem using that to her advantage when she needs to.
The television is on in the corner of the living room, but I can’t tell you what I’m watching. I’m staring out the front window at the falling snow, trying to figure out how I’ve let this girl tie me up in knots.
The sound of my phone ringing jerks me out of my thoughts.
“Hello?” I answer without looking at the caller-ID.
“Tommy?” Tasha sounds nervous. I know this tone of voice and I’m not sure if I’m upset with her for calling or pissed at myself because I know I’ll say yes to whatever she asks me. I’m certain of this because I doubt she’s calling me just to chat. When she calls, at least recently, it has always been because she wants something for Holly and that woman is my Achilles heel.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I look around the living room, disgusted by the empty pop cans everywhere.
When Tasha doesn’t respond, I can almost see her worrying her lower lip as she wrings her hands. Although she’s more assertive now than she was when she and Dylan met, she’s still one of the most nervous women I know.
“Did you just call to see if I’d pick up the phone?” I force a laugh, hoping to snap her out of whatever’s going on in her head.
“Umm… I was wondering…” I toss my head back, not in the mood to force her to talk today. Luckily, she starts talking again on her own. We’re not necessarily tight, but this has to rank as one of the most awkward conversations we’ve had. “I was wondering if Holly can stay in your basement for a while,” she says in a rush.
Dammit. I know I’m not going to say no. I can’t. On the other hand, Dylan’s going to be pissed when he finds out. As much as he wants to see Holly get shit straight, he’s not cool with the idea of her staying here. I know this because we’ve talked about it and he’s worried that I’m going to forget how much she’s cost me and throw myself at her.
It also explains why Tasha had a hard time asking me for this favor. She’s in a tight spot. If she abides by Dylan’s wishes, she’s turning her back on her friend. And Holly is more than just a friend to her; they have a bond tighter than most siblings despite recent events.
“Does Dylan know you’re asking me?” I need to know what type of shit storm I’m getting into here.
“No,” she responds meekly. She knows I know his feelings on this subject. Lucky for her friend, Tasha is just enough of a brat to stand her ground when it’s important to her. “But we both know what’s going to happen if she doesn’t stay there. I can’t let that happen.”
“You know he’s going to tan your hide for this, right?” While I understand Dylan’s mind, I’m not sure Tasha knows just how much damage she could be doing here. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Dylan Caprese, it’s that he doesn’t like to be defied by his sub. Granted, the relationship he has with Tasha is far more than a Dom/sub arrangement and, to the best of my knowledge, he doesn’t consider her his sub. It doesn’t change the fact that she knows how he feels about this subject. Then again, if Dylan is an asshole because she didn’t turn her back on someone who really is trying to turn their life around, he and I will be having words.
“I know,” she sighs. “But she has no one and if we don’t help her, I know she’s going to wind up staying with one of the girls and they’re all as messed up as she is. As she was,” she corrects herself.
I know all too well how screwed up Holly’s friends are. They’re one of the few things Tasha and I have talked about. There were four of them who hung out at Marquee every month, and the remaining trio of pain sluts is none-too-happy to be losing their ringleader.
They were all over trying to be the concerned friends for the first few days after Holly was rushed to the hospital, but once they found out that she was being kept in her coma to allow her body time to get past part of the psychological effects of withdrawal, they changed their tune. One of them, I think her name was Aimee, got in my face one day, telling me I was keeping her unconscious against her will and dared to compare me to the fucker who put her there in the first place. She will stay with one of them over my dead body. I don’t give a shit what Dylan says.
“Yeah,” I grumble. “But you have to make Dylan think I pushed you for this.”
“You know, I would think that, as his friend, you would be the one trying to make me be honest with him all the time and be a good little sub.”
“True,” I agreed. “But I’ve known Dylan long enough to know how he’s going to react to certain situations. If he finds out that you asked me to let Holly come over here, he’ll flip. If he thinks I pushed you, he’ll be pissed at me but he’ll get over it.”
No matter how hard I try to pay attention to Tasha, my thoughts are drifting to the possibility of a future with Holly. I need to stop thinking this way. It’s not healthy for either one of us.
Holly’s sitting beside me wearing nothing but a long purple tank top and matching panties. I glance over at her, wondering how we came to this place of domestic normalcy. She moves closer to me on the couch, curling her petite body into my side.
I press my lips against the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re finally home,” I whisper to her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Tommy,” she coos. Her fingers skim the length of my torso, awakening more than just my groin.
My fingers sneak between the soft cotton and her skin, gently rubbing circles along her toned ivory skin. I cup one petite breast in my hand, torturing her taut nipple. She doesn’t resist when I pull the top over her head, needing to taste her.
I slide my arms behind her back, laying her out on the couch. My body moves over hers as I begin placing open-mouthed kisses from her ear lobe, down her neck and continuing along her torso. Her hips raise slightly off the couch as I tug at her satin panties, needing to see all of her laid bare before me.
“Tommy, are you listening to me?” Tasha’s sharp tone breaks me out of my daydream. I’m grateful because, if allowed, I’m almost scared where my thoughts would have taken me.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say sheepishly. She can’t know where my mind had wandered; otherwise, she will realize that this isn’t a good idea, even if it’s the only reasonable solution at the moment.
“There’s one other thing…” I really hate it when her voice trails off like that.
“Spill it,” I push her. I’m not sure what she could have to ask me that is harder than what we’ve already gotten past.
“They need you to come up for a few sessions. You know, to make sure you understand what she needs when she comes home.”
Oh, I know what she needs. She might not, but I do.
“Yeah, sure. Tell me when and I’ll be there.” Now that I’m unemployed, I have all the time in the world.
I was cleared of any wrongdoing, but things were strained when I went back to work. They wanted to keep me behind a desk and that’s not what I signed up for. I’m not sure what I’ll do now, but I have enough in savings to think about it for close to a year before it’s an issue. That’ll give me time to focus on helping Holly get healthy.
Dumbass, she’s not your responsibility. Don’t change your life to fit her. It’s her fault you got put on leave at all.
Doctor Armstrong, who keeps telling me to call him Jeff, is sitting behind his desk taking notes. Our session should have started almost ten minutes ago and he has yet to say a
word to me.
“Is this a bad time for you?” I ask sarcastically. I glare at him as he continues to ignore me. When he does finally look up, my eyes snap to the ground within seconds of meeting his gaze. I feel off-balance every time I’m around him, like I can’t look directly at him for some reason.
“I’m sorry, Holly,” he says in a firm yet slightly patronizing tone. “Do you have a hot date in the common area?”
I actually snort at the absurdity of his suggestion. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that one of the biggest rules in this place is we’re not allowed to engage in any sort of intimate activities with other patients, none of the guys in here do anything for me. They’re all broken and I’m not sure how to fix myself, much less anyone else.
“So where’s the fire?” he asks, folding his arms across the top of the desk.
“I just don’t see the point in wasting your time and mine if we’re not going to talk about anything,” I snap. Now that I’m feeling better, I just want to get out of here. It’s going to be hard once I have to face my demons, but I can’t stay locked away forever.
I haven’t shared these feelings with Doctor Armstrong because I’m afraid he would keep me in here longer if he knew. He would insist on helping me learn bullshit coping techniques that work in theory, but don’t do a damned thing when you’re craving a fix and have “friends” who are all too willing to hold a hand out to help you jump off the sobriety wagon.
After almost a month of sitting in this room for an hour each day, five days a week, I have his office memorized. The walls aren’t a sterile white, but a soft gray. The bookcase is filled with medical journals, as expected, but some of the art pieces filling gaps on the shelves are either subtly erotic. Or my mind is firmly caught in the gutter. Of course, those are the sculptures my eye is drawn to as soon as I walk in the room every day. I want to ask him about the art, but that would mean talking to him. And what would I say if he turned it around on me, asking what I thought it meant? That’s a can of worms I desperately want to keep the lid on.
“You don’t seem to want to talk most of the time, so I figured I would get caught up on some notes while you sat there. Sucks to be ignored, doesn’t it?” I want to reach across the oak desk and smack the smug look off his face.
“Whatever,” I huff, flopping back on the couch as I start picking at my fingernails.
My head snaps to the side when I hear a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” the gorgeous doctor calls with his rich baritone voice.
I jump off the couch when I see Tasha enter the room. She looks better than I’ve seen her look in years. Wrapping my arms around her, I can tell she’s gained some weight. That’s a good thing because she was always trying to stay the perfect size for Nick’s taste and that was at least one size smaller than her frame should ever be.
“What are you doing here?” I squeal. I can’t help the excitement in my voice. She’s been such a rock for me while I’ve been up here, but this is the first time we’ve seen one another. We’ve talked on the phone a few times, but nothing more than simple pleasantries because all calls up here are monitored.
“Hoping we can spring you out of here soon.” My body goes rigid when I hear the deep voice entering the room.
Tommy crosses the room to introduce himself to Doctor Armstrong as if he belongs here. Why is he here?
“Okay,” Jeff says after brief introductions. “Let’s talk about what’s going to happen once we transition Holly to outpatient care.”
I’m not sure which of us is more uncomfortable with my presence in the good doctor’s office. Holly keeps looking in my direction as if she’s waiting for me to attack her for her past mistakes. As strange as it seems, I’m not sure that was ever something I wanted to do. One of the things I learned during my time on the police force is that people do some really stupid things when they’re at the mercy of hard drugs.
“I’m not sure going to Tommy’s house is the best thing for me,” Holly says, glaring at her friend. “We’re total strangers. The only reason I know him at all is because he wouldn’t leave me alone when I was in the hospital.”
“And what do you think is a better option, Holly?” I wasn’t sure about Jeff when he first introduced himself to me. After all, what doctor prefers to not be called by his professional title? Seeing the way he maintains a calm yet forceful tone at Holly’s outburst, I have a bit more respect for him. “Do you have another place to go? Somewhere you won’t be tempted to use again? A support network to help you when you want to falter?”
“Well, no….” Today, the darkness in her eyes isn’t created by the espresso color of her irises. I see painful emotion coming through when she looks my way. As she curls into herself at the end of the couch, I see nothing but her sadness. I can’t imagine feeling as if I have no one to rely on. “But how can I ask a stranger to take me in? Especially after everything I put everyone through…”
It’s not my place, but I’m the first to speak up. “I think you need to let me decide whether or not I’m willing to take that chance. You’re not a bad person, Holly. You’ve done some really stupid shit, but everyone who cares about you knows that was because of the drugs.”
She wraps her arms tighter around her knees, trying to protect herself even though there’s no physical threat to her right now. “And why would you care about me? From what Tasha said, you lost your job because of me.”
I narrow my eyes on Tasha, trying to figure out what would have possessed her to tell Holly about that. “For the record, I quit my job. I didn’t get fired because of you.”
“Oh, so if I hadn’t fucked up, you wouldn’t be out saving the world right now?”
She has a point. I would still be there, living out my childhood dream that wasn’t as awesome as I always thought it would be. She was the catalyst that forced me to make a change.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, hoping she would give me credit for being honest with her. “Yes, I would still be there. But none of us can change what happened. And I wouldn’t do a single thing differently. My friends are my family and I will always do what’s right for my family. That night, Tasha was in danger and I did what I had to so she would be safe.”
I purse my lips, forcing myself to shut up. If I keep going, I’m going to tell her how much it scared me to see her lying there. It wasn’t the first time I saw an unconscious person on the ground, but it was the first time I panicked because of it. It was the first time I felt helpless as the blood seeped from the gashes on her body. I knew in that moment that I would do whatever I could to help pull her out of the pits of hell.
“Because of me,” she says quietly. I glance over at her therapist, wondering if I’m going too far. On the contrary, he looks fascinated by our candid conversation. He gives me a subtle nod to continue.
“Yes, because of what you did in a desperate time.” I stand and cross the room so I’m hovering over her. She turns her head to look up at me and I continue. “We’re all working to forgive you for what you did. Maybe it’s time you start working on forgiving yourself.”
Before I can even get the words out, I realize what an ass I’m being. While not in any physical danger, I can tell from Holly’s posture that she’s terrified right now. I slowly lower myself to the floor, resting one arm on the cushion so my forearm is touching her foot.
“Tasha asked me if you could stay with me and I think it’s the best idea,” I assure her. “There would be too much stress if you were at her place and I doubt you want to deal with Zeke’s revolving door of guests.”
Holly shakes her head, unable to admit that we’re looking out for her best interests. Every move I make with her is tentative, just as if I am approaching a wounded animal.
Unexpected Protector (Isthmus Alliance) Page 3