“No.” Turning my head, I scowled into the shadows, praying that neither of us would remember any of this in the morning.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not doing it half assed.” Dipping his head down once more, he nibbled a line across my jaw and toward my mouth. “I love you, Emelia. Please don’t be angry with me.”
Sighing, I turned my head. “You’re a tease.”
“Sorry. Really, I am.” He took my mouth in a lighter kiss, biting and nibbling playfully. “You taste like chocolate covered cherries.”
“The wine and truffles.”
“You liked?”
“Too much. My head is pounding.”
“Not as bad as mine.” Letting me go, Shane dropped onto the edge of the bed and flopped onto his back. “I overdid it.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re going to bring this up on every occasion, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Frowning, I ambled to the bathroom to wet a washcloth. I wasn’t feeling so hot myself. I took a moment to splash some cold water on my face, and then filled the tumbler. If I could force down a few aspirin, maybe I could head off the worst of it. “What exactly are all those pills?” I asked as I wrung the washcloth out. “And how many did you take?”
Glancing in the mirror, I blotted my face and then rinsed so I could do the same for Shane. He was a glutton for punishment. Moron. Already, I could hear him snoring, which was unusual, because he didn’t normally snore, and if he did, it wasn’t loud, but then he wasn’t usually drunk and stoned out of his gourd.
“Shane.” I looked up when his snores cut off to find him seizing. Vomit began bubbling from his mouth. “Fuck! Shane!” Dropping the glass, I ran to the bed and hurdled him. By sheer will, I was able to get him to his side so that he wouldn’t drown in his own vomit. No sooner than one heave waned, another would start. All the while, he shook in my hands, completely incoherent. Panic started to set in. “Help me! Somebody help me! Oh, God! Goddamn it! HELP!”
The door rattled, first softly and then louder. “Em?” Marshall shouted. The door rattled again. “Em!”
“Oh God, Oh God, please don’t die on me, you bastard.” Letting Shane go, I jumped off the bed and onto the tumbler I had dropped. The glass shattered under my foot, followed by a sharp slice of pain. I must’ve yelped, because the next thing I knew, the door burst open. Splinters went flying in every direction. Marshall stumbled into the room, looking irate and murderous. “Call nine-one-one!” I shouted. “He’s overdosing! CALL NINE-ONE-ONE!”
It took a moment for Marshall to dissolve the scene. When he realized I wasn’t in any harm, he bolted back out the door. Pushing myself off the floor, I limped to the bed, climbed behind Shane again, and pushed him up on his side. Another pool of vomit spilled from his mouth.
“Overdose,” I heard Carter say. When I looked up, he was talking on the phone, while sorting through the pills on the console. “I’m not sure…Percocet… Vicodin… Oxycodone… mixed with alcohol. Holiday Inn. Moses Lake…”
His voice faded into the background as I looked down at Shane. The shaking had stopped, but his face was now blue. “He’s not breathing,” I heard myself say. It didn’t sound like my own voice. “He’s not breathing! He’s not breathing!” Turning his head, I checked his airway and then began mouth to mouth. I’d never thought I’d utilize those CPR courses I had to take while working in daycare.
“Move!” someone shouted behind me. Everything became a blur. Someone said something about glass. I was lifted away from Shane and carried across the room. Derek placed a large bag onto the bed, while Evan began chest compressions.
People stood everywhere. They were in my room, lining the halls, huddling around the door. I couldn’t hear anything over their voices. They all seemed to blend in a continuous susurration of murmurs, drowning out Derek and Evan’s voices.
Too soon, they vanished from my line of vision, too. “Put me down,” I demanded. “Put me down! I can’t see him! I can’t fuckin’ see him! Put me down!”
“Emily,” Marshall said, gathering my attention. “Fuckin’ listen to me!” Placing me down on a bed, someone’s bed, he ducked down until he was in my line of vision, and shook me for effect. “Look at me! Are you listening?”
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” He was blue. His face was fucking blue. I couldn’t get the image out of my head.
“He’s not going to die.”
“Emily?” I looked up, found Taylor’s brother staring down at me. “Your foot’s bleeding pretty bad. Can I take a look at it?”
I felt wide eyed. Numb. I nodded absently.
Marshall stood. Staring down at me, he squeezed my shoulder. “I’m going across the hall. I let you know what’s going on, ok?”
I nodded again.
“Emily,” said Taylor’s brother again. “It would be better if you laid down and elevated your foot. It would slow the bleeding. Can you do that for me?”
Taylor’s brother’s voice faded out as I stared into the hall, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. All I could see was Jaxon, who was inserting himself between Marshall and Carter. Carter’s face was bruised and bleeding. The two looked about to brawl, but Jaxon held his ground between them.
“Hey.” A slight pressure on my arm gathered my attention. I blinked and stared into a pair of smiling eyes. “Pay attention to me, ok?” It was difficult not to when he began handling my foot. The pain ripped me back into cognizance.
“Ouch! Figlio di puttana! That hurts!”
“Ah, there you are.”
“Yeah, here I am. What the hell are you doing, cauterizing the thing?” My foot felt like he’d lit it on fire. I could barely think around the pain.
“You look like you’re going to faint. Can you lie back now?”
I did as asked, but not without complaint, a slew of Italian—as I’m sure he never heard it—crossed my lips. The pain was horrendous. Bile rose in my throat.
“Are you injured anywhere else?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you mind if I take a look to make sure? You’ve a lot of blood on you. I don’t think it’s all coming from your feet.”
“No.”
“Do you remember my name?” he asked as he lifted my left hand. He turned it, inspecting both sides.
“Matthew.” His lips pulled into a smile, as if I were missing some private joke. “What?”
“Nothing—ah, here we go. Another nice one.”
“Merda!” I hissed, trying to jerk my arm from his grasp. He found another gash on my right palm at the butt of my fist. “What’re you—some kind of sadist?”
“Sorry, but there’s glass stuck in there.”
“Send in someone else. You’re killing me here.”
“There is no one else. Taylor can’t stand the sight of blood. Everyone else is busy. You get me until transport gets here.”
“Succhiacazzi!”
“Close your eyes. Take a deep breath if you feel like you’re going to faint.”
“That wasn’t very nice.” Jake. I peeled open one eye. He was standing in the doorway. Jaxon stood to the right.
“What did she just say?” Matt asked him. “I don’t understand a word she’s saying.”
“That’s the point,” I gritted. “You people are ruining my obscurity.”
“I believe she just called you an effing c-o-c-k-sucker.”
“Cocksucker,” Matt laughed. “You can say it. We’re all adults here.”
“Habit,” Jake explained. “Never know when that kid’s around to hear you. He’s like a mole. Never know when he’s going to pop up.”
“He’s sleeping next door. Though I’m sure he can hear Em through the wall. She’s loud enough to wake the entire third floor.” Coop stepped around Jaxon and Jake, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you ok?”
“He fucked up.”
“I’d say.” Taking my free hand, she rubbed my knuckles. “I can’t stay. I don’t want to leave L
evy by himself, but I wanted to see if you needed anything. Do you need your coat…your purse…a stiff drink…?”
“Aspirin.”
“Tylenol,” Matt interjected. He jerked his head toward a black duffle at the end of the bed. “There’s some in the bag right there.”
Letting go of my hand, Coop rummaged through the bag. “So what the hell happened? Was that him and Marshall I heard fighting? I thought they were going to come through the wall.”
“That was Carter,” Jaxon explained. “Marshall didn’t want to let Shane in the room. I think Carter was putting up a front so that Shane could sneak inside.”
“Are you serious?” Coop asked, reading my mind.
“Shit’s not cool,” Carter spoke up. He was hiding around the corner, barely visible behind Jaxon.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you rode Shane’s ass all night,” Jake replied. “Eased the fuck up a little.”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
“Fuck off, Carter,” Jake scoffed. “Just get the fuck out of here. No one wants to hear your bullshit right now.”
Carter frowned and looked away. “Ambulance is here if she wants to ride with him.” Dragging the back of his wrist across his bloody nose, he limped away.
Marshall had really beat this piss out of him. Good. Fucker.
“Help me up,” I asked. “I’m going.” Planting my right hand against the mattress, I pushed myself up the best I could. Matt grasped my arm, lending support as I slid off the bed.
“Keep your weight off that foot.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” My weight wasn’t going anywhere near that foot. “Merda, I can feel my heart beat everywhere except my chest.”
“Put your arm around my shoulder. I’ll help you down.”
Coop yanked the blanket from the bed and held it out. I looked at it absently. “The tabloids would have a blast if you walked out like that.”
Glancing down, I realized I was only in a cami and a pair of rather revealing, black lace panties. “Oh shit.” Matthew chuckled under his breath. I gave him an elbow in the ribs. “You could’ve said something. Asshole.”
“No Italian this time?”
“I wanted to make sure you understood me.” Taking the blanket from Coop, I draped it over my shoulders and pinched it closed in the front.
“I’ll get a change of clothes together,” Coop offered. “I’ll have Tate bring them over.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek and stepped back. As Matt and I made our way into the hall, Evan and Derek came out of my room.
“We’re going to need your hands to clear the hall and the elevators,” he told Matt. He glanced to my right. “Let the kid take her.”
Jaxon stepped forward. I shifted my weight onto him as Matt slipped away. “Just tell me if anything’s in our path,” Jaxon murmured. The reek of alcohol came off him in waves. I could practically see it displacing the air.
“Like your own two feet?”
“I’m sober, Ma’am. I wasn’t a few minutes ago, but I am now.”
“For real? Did you just call me ma’am?” Didn’t that just top off a wonderfully crappy night.
“You used ‘the tone’ with me.”
“It was unintentional.” Across the hall, the paramedics navigated a gurney out of my room with Shane strapped down in the center. He was normally pale, but his skin was as white as the sheet covering him. There was no life evident, not even the comfort of watching the rise and fall of his chest, because the tube coming from his mouth and the paramedic squeezing the bag were doing that for him.
Slowly, Jaxon and I followed the gurney as Evan and the others cleared the hall, urging the guests back to their rooms. Jaxon was my legs. I was his eyes.
“What was Carter harassing Shane about tonight?” I asked, distracting myself. I didn’t want to burst into tears, and I was damn close. Mad was better. It warded off the pain. And let’s face it, nobody could piss you off faster than Carter Strickland.
“The usual…you know…guy stuff.”
He was evading, which meant it was likely about me. “Like old ladies and being pussy whipped?” Despite his poor vision, Jaxon looked to the floor, confirming my suspicions. “Carter started on Shane the minute he walked out the door. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“What exactly did he say?” I couldn’t help it. I needed to know. It was about me. Whatever Carter had said caused Shane to swallow a handful of pills and unknown quantities of alcohol.
“I’d really rather not repeat it.”
“That bad?”
Jaxon’s brows pinched together. He shook his head. “Just personal.”
“About me.”
“Everyone heard you arguing before we left,” Jaxon sighed. “Carter just kept pushing Shane’s buttons, saying that you were going to take off. It was only a matter of time, cause you were never going to trust him.”
At hearing those words, my visage cracked, allowing the tears I was holding back to rush forth. Fuck if everything Carter had said wasn’t true.
Chapter 23
“So,” Carter says animatedly, “she looks up at Derek and says, ‘Let Marshall beat the fuckin’ life into him if you have to’.”
I didn’t remember saying that.
“It sure fuckin’ feels like he did,” Shane muttered. Pressing the heel of his palm to his chest, he inhaled slowly.
“Sore?” Tate asked.
“He ain’t yet,” Jake commented. There was an undercurrent of humor in his tone. “But he will be after he hears what she said to Matt.”
“Why? What did she say to Matt?” Oh, he was definitely sore.
“She was in shock,” Coop pointed out, “and half drunk. She drank that whole bottle of merlot herself, and we only went to bed two hours before.”
“He was evaluating her lucidity, asked her if she remembered his name. She comes back with ‘Why—did we have some lurid affair I don’t remember?’ Then when he smiled, she just smirked and was like ‘No, I’d remember a face like that.’”
“I never said that,” I denied. They were embellishing now. It was definite. “I said Matthew. Plain and simple.”
“That was the second time he asked you,” Jake clarified. “Coop was right; you were in shock the first time.”
Cracking my eyes open, I winced at the sunlight bleeding through the metal blinds. My head felt like a lead weight, despite having finally slept a solid—I peeked at the clock—ten hours. Had I really slept that long? It felt like only minutes.
“Merda, can someone dim the lights?”
“You mean that shiny star they call the Sun?” Marshall commented. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s been rising and falling for the past four and a half billion years.”
Coop crossed the room and adjusted the blinds, angling the sun toward the ceiling. When she was finished, she slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Tate. “We should go. I told Levy we’d take him out for ice cream after lunch.”
“For Levy. Sure.” Tate grinned, to which Coop rolled her eyes and scowled indignantly.
“Oh, shut up. It’s true.”
“Just saying. Where you’re concerned, there are three food groups: Chocolate, vanilla and the Cooper Special.”
“I’m not arguing that.” Shaking her head, Coop bent and faux kissed my cheek. “Do you need anything before I go?”
“No, just take all these other idiots with you.” Despite the ten hours of sleep, I needed some peace and quiet. More, importantly, some time to talk with Shane.
Shane had slept solidly for the past forty-eight hours, with the exception of the times the doctors and nurses woke him during each evaluation. All the while, I played the messenger for a laundry list of texts and visits from the other members of the band. I had struggled to stay awake, solely for those brief moments of awareness, so I could see for myself that he was healthy and sound. That moment came ten hours ago when he woke, took
one look at me, and told me he had to take a piss.
Romantic, I know.
It was a good thing he was joking.
Curling his fingers, he had beckoned me to his bed, where I had curled up beside him and slept like the proverbial log.
“Later, man,” Jake said, giving Shane a fist bump.
“Later.”
Carter approached Shane next. He didn’t look at me, because I still wasn’t talking to him. He’d apologized numerous times. He’d explained himself. But while his reasons might have been benevolent, they were poorly thought out. He knew Shane. He didn’t just push buttons. He’d played on his deepest, darkest fears. And Shane nearly paid the price with his life.
Somewhere in his twisted logic, Carter thought he was looking out for us. I found Shane’s addictions a hindrance in our relationship, whether I wanted to admit it or not. As long as the ‘what ifs’ remained a mystery, I couldn’t commit myself to him. Not fully. By prodding Shane into a state of drunkenness, he was essentially showing me that Shane wasn’t a threat. He revealed the unknown with a quick rip of the Band-Aid. Did I understand it? Yes. Did I like it? No.
“We cool?” Carter asked, holding his fist out. Shane took one look at it and made a sound of derision.
“What is this—a fuckin’ pansy party?”
Disgruntled, Carter rolled his eyes and followed Jake out the door. “Fucker.”
“Get some rest so we can go the fuck home,” Tate ordered. “With any luck, we’ll come back in a month or two, and finish this damn tour.” The final concert of the tour was last night, cancelled obviously, due to Shane’s hospitalization. Tate had wanted it finished long before Coop’s due date, in case she went into labor. Prematurity was a strong possibility with twins. He didn’t want to be away from her if that happened, but that plan was blown out of the water.
“Sorry, man.”
“Shit happens,” Tate dismissed. “Seriously, though, we need to get the fuck out of here. Your dogs ate the legs off one of the chairs in Carter’s room, and they shit all over the carpet. He stepped in it getting out of bed.”
“Yeah, I’m heartbroken about that.”
Breaking the Habit Page 25