My Mistake (Stories of Serendipity #7)

by Conley, Anne

Brent sat on the edge of the bed, his face a pasty gray color that alarmed Casey. He’d pulled the blanket off of him, and she saw he was wearing nothing but his briefs. He started to pull on the IV line when another, older nurse with a look of authority in her eyes stopped him with her hand over his. “That’s a large vein, there. You pull out that IV it’s gonna bleed quite a bit, so stop and listen for a moment, please.”

  “I’m getting the fuck out of here. You people do nothing but produce addicts. I’m leaving.” He made to stand, but didn’t get half-way up before falling.

  “Mr. Baum I promise you we will not give you any more pain medication through that IV unless you ask for it. For now I need you to sit back and relax until we get the necessary paperwork in order. You may leave against medical advice, but you need to sign some things.”

  He gripped Casey’s hand and pulled it to his chest. He was surprisingly strong. “Will you take me home, Case? Please? I need to be home when this shot wears off.” He ground out the last words as if they hurt him to say.

  “You have broken ribs and a concussion. Shouldn’t you stay?”

  He looked at the nurse, who stood in front of them, looking exhausted. Casey felt a little guilty for being with the man giving her such a hard time. “No.”

  She sighed, willing to abide his wishes, but wishing he would stay and get professional care. After listening to the doctor’s cautionary speech, Casey wasn’t sure about her own nursing abilities. She received detailed instructions from the nurse about spending the night with him, and watching for signs of internal bleeding and his head injury worsening. She gulped and nodded reluctantly, wishing again that Brent would stay and let the hospital do their job.

  Brent and Casey got more than a few antagonistic glares, as well as some appreciative glances, as they hobbled out of the emergency room, she in her outfit of seduction, and he in his briefs and nothing else, having refused the hospital’s offer to wear a gown for the trip home.

  He was heavy, and injured, and Casey had a lot of trouble getting him into her car. But she managed, buckling him in, because it hurt for him to twist his body to reach for the seatbelt.

  He refused to answer her questions on the way to his house, answering her with grunts instead of words. Casey wanted to know his aversion to pain killers, and why he’d gotten so uncharacteristically mad at the nurse who was only doing her job. It was a side of Brent she’d never seen.

  When she got to his house, driving carefully around the ruts in his dirt road driveway to minimize bumping, she struggled to get him inside and in bed. He was delirious with pain, and Casey encouraged him to sleep. Apparently, he didn’t need much encouragement, because by the time she’d gotten him some ibuprofen and water, he was snoring softly. She used the laptop he’d left in the kitchen to look up how to take care of a concussion and broken ribs on the internet, fortifying the information she’d received from the doctor and nurses. After setting the alarm on her phone for two hours, so she could wake him up and check for signs of disorientation, look at his pupils, check for reflexive motions and other things, she decided to investigate the reaction from the paramedics to the drug Brent took. She hoped it would shed light on his reaction at the hospital.

  As she read, Casey felt the blood drain from her face. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  Buprenorphine was a synthetic opioid used to treat opioid addiction. Opioids were pain killers. Brent was addicted to pain killers. Brent was an addict. He’d lied to her.

  Casey had no idea how long she sat there while her mind connected the dots. It took a circuitous route, going over things her father had said, words from Alanon meetings she’d attended, conversations with Brent.

  From her father, during a rare moment of lucidity…My booze is more important to me than anything. Anything.

  From the Alanon meetings she’d religiously attended in high school…Once an addict, always an addict.

  From Brent, whose words suddenly made so much sense…I’m not good enough for you, Case. You deserve better than me.

  Why hadn’t he just told her the truth? As Casey continued reading, it became clear that Brent’s pain-killer addiction was a piece of his past that he’d tried to hide from her. A piece that he was trying to fix, with the Buprenorphine. It was a prescribed treatment, so he was under a doctor’s care, which meant he was trying to get better. But it’s used to treat higher dosage dependencies, not just the random partiers who pop a bunch of pills to get a temporary fix. He must have been high constantly for a long time to warrant such treatment.

  The more she read, the more questions she had. How long had he been dependent on the pills? Which pills had he taken? Why had he started taking them in the first place? Most pain-killer addicts started with an accident that pain killers were prescribed for. What had happened to Brent?

  The alarm on her phone went off, signaling time to go check on him. She shut down the computer found an ice pack in the freezer, and walked back to his room with her treatment notes. Mostly bed rest, with wake-ups every two hours for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours to check for signs of brain swelling.

  She stopped in the doorway of his bedroom when she saw that he was awake, lying there, wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling vacantly.

  When he noticed her, a slow smile crept over his lips. “You stayed.”

  She walked to his bed. “Yes, I stayed. I’ve been using your laptop, looking up how to treat you.” She stroked his hair, and noticed for the first time, the lines around his eyes and the pain behind them. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Since you left. I heard the door close. I thought you’d gone home.”

  Casey shook her head. “No, but I’m going to after Max gets here. After I check you over, I’m going to call him. Did you take the ibuprofen?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry about what happened at the hospital.”

  Casey continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseated?”

  “No. I need to tell you something.”

  She sighed. “It’s too late, Brent. I already looked it up.” She laid her head against his chest as gently as she could, and listened to his breathing and his heartbeat, concentrating on finding any irregularities. She had to focus on the sounds emanating from his chest, and not the sweet muskiness of Brent. Thankfully, he was quiet.

  “I would ask if you are in any pain, but I can tell that you are. Shallow breathing, lack of movement. Does anything not hurt?” She raised her head and looked at him.

  “My toes feel alright.”

  Casey struggled to stand there and hold a conversation with his broken body when all she wanted to do was beat him senseless. His betrayal stung her. A deep sense of remorse filled her. She couldn’t choose her parents, so she’d been stuck with a dead-beat father.

  But she could choose her boyfriends.

  She wanted to scream and shout at him, but instead she clenched her fists at her sides and took two steps away from him.

  His eyes focused on her hands, and a haze of sadness fell as they filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Case. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Yeah, well you didn’t have to, did you?” She turned to leave the room before her emotions took over. He needed to heal right now. “I’m going to go call Max.” Casey walked out the door.

  Chapter 16

  Brent watched her leave, his heart in his throat, but he didn’t try to stop her. There wasn’t anything to say. She knew.

  Fractured ribs hurt. Concussions hurt. They hurt like a bitch, but not nearly as much as the idea of life without Casey. As he heard the front door close, he thought of the last couple of weeks with her.

  They’d been the best weeks of his life.

  He closed his eyes and listened to her murmurs as she called Max and paced his front porch. She was passing the torch. Max would come and take care of him until he could get out of bed. He’d done it before.

  One thing about not having any of the pain killers at the hospital, was that the pain was r
eal now. He wasn’t dulled at all. His senses were alert and raging. His nerve endings burned with pain. Every breath ached. Each movement of his head sent a shock of pain down his spine. He could feel. Everything. And the physical pain wasn’t the worst.

  The worst pain was seeing Casey’s face in his mind. Her face as she looked at him from his doorway watching him in bed.

  As soon as he’d seen her, he’d known she knew. He didn’t have to know who told her. It didn’t matter. He saw the familiar grief behind her eyes, the betrayal, and it had been directed at him. It remained the entire time she’d been in his room, checking over him. It never left, and he suspected it would always be there.

  “He’s gone again, Brent.” They were standing on the fence rungs around the paddock at the school’s FFA enclosure, watching Dash as he munched on hay.

  “Sometimes, I just wish he’d never come home. Then we wouldn’t always have to be second.” She turned to him, and the unshed tears in her eyes broke his heart. “I don’t want to ever be in a relationship with someone like that. I will never live with someone who chooses a bottle over me. NEVER.” She wiped her tears, and Brent climbed off the fence and hugged her, promising her she’d never have to settle like that.

  Brent listened as a deep growly engine pulled up his drive, and a truck door shut. He heard Max’s murmur, then Casey’s, before her heard her car door slam and she drove away. Mooch let out a grateful yap when somebody let him in, and he scampered back to Brent’s bedroom to lick his hand. Max’s footsteps echoed through the house as he walked back to Brent’s bedroom.

  “How’s it going buddy?”

  “She knows.” He absently scratched Mooch’s head while his thoughts were elsewhere.

  Max’s eyes softened. “I figured. She didn’t take it well?”

  “I don’t think so. I didn’t tell her, so she’s got a right to be pissed at me. I just wish I could do something about it.”

  “You hurting? Is there anything I can get you?”

  “I need ibuprofen, and Tylenol. I can rotate them out every two hours and stack the medications so the pain will be dulled a little.”

  “They didn’t give you anything at the emergency room?”

  Brent narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Hey, I was just asking. You don’t think you could even take them if you’re in pain?”

  “That’s how I got into this mess. I’m not going down that road again, man.”

  “Did you tell the doctor? He might have had something else to give you.”

  “Fuck, man! They push that shit like they get paid for every pill they dispense, and then they act like I’m a criminal for getting addicted.” It hurt to talk, so he stopped, his anger screaming in his lungs that couldn’t completely open because of his ribs. “I’ll be okay.” He whispered. “I’ve done this before.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t see how.” Max muttered. “I’m going to check your medicine cabinet, then I may run in to the drug store. You need anything else?”

  Casey.

  “No man. Thanks.” Mooch plopped his body on the floor by Brent’s bed, and he managed a grimace that was supposed to be a smile, before closing his eyes and trying to sleep.

  Chapter 17

  Casey threw herself on her bed, belatedly realizing it wasn’t made up anymore. She sat up and looked at the rumpled mess of sheets before laying back down, not really caring about anything right now. Her mind was consumed, and her forgetfulness regarding her bed was the least of her worries.

  She sobbed into her pillow, remembering all of the times she’d thought he was so perfect. The way he looked at her with love shining from his eyes so brightly she thought she would erupt with giddiness. The smile he gave her when she said something that pleased him. The way he always made it a personal challenge to satisfy her sexually before he got his. The feel of his hands on her body, even in platonic situations, like when they cuddled or hugged. The words of encouragement he’d given her when she’d cried on his shoulder, that she deserved someone better than Kevin.

  And the entire time, he’d been hiding a secret from her. A secret he’d known she would be mad about. He’d hidden his past from her because he was scared of her reaction. As well he should be. She remembered telling him more than once that she could never be with someone like her dad.

  She’d grown up in a two parent household, with one mostly absent father. Every time he left on a bender, Casey experienced a feeling of profound relief that he was gone. He wouldn’t be yelling at her or her mom anymore. They wouldn’t have to watch him drink himself into a stupor in the recliner, sitting in stained underwear every night. She would hope he never returned. Then the guilt would overwhelm her. He was her dad and she was supposed to love him unconditionally. Then the fear that something would happen to him while he was away, and he’d be hurt or afraid and they’d have no idea how to find him. Guilt because she’d wished him harm. When he returned, she was always happy he was alive for about two seconds, then she would wish him gone again. Under all those emotions was an undercurrent of shame. Shame that he belonged to her, and then guilt at the shame. It was exhausting.

  Casey had tried going to the Alanon meetings, for family members of alcoholics, but they never told her anything she didn’t already know. Alcoholism is a disease. He loved his liquor more than he loved her. She couldn’t blame herself. She couldn’t enable him. Patronizing members talking down to her, telling her the obvious. He would always be a ‘recovering addict,’ no matter how long he was clean.

  She knew all that, but it was hard to tell her heart, and so it had broken slowly, binge by binge, until there was no love left for her father, only shame and a bone-deep guilt for not being the type of daughter that could see past it.

  And now Brent. Her Brent. The Brent that she had loved her entire life was an addict. All of the words of the meetings came back to her, and she fought the urge to scream.

  Chapter 18

  Brent spent days in bed, first because the pain was too much to move. Every effort brought blinding, breath-taking pain. Pain that reminded him he was alive. Pain that made him remember Casey and every lie he’d uttered.

  And that brought a fresher, more debilitating pain. Pain overrode all sense of time for Brent. He passed the days and nights watching Summer and Max come into his room, talking to him, checking his reflexes, and looking into his eyes with flashlights, before leaving him two more Tylenol or ibuprofens to alleviate the pain that wouldn’t go away.

  Four days later, he was physically better, able to sit on the edge of the bed and eat what Summer made for him, Mooch sitting on his feet, alert for errant drops of food. The look of adoration in the dog’s eyes tore at Brent’s heart. He didn’t deserve anything more than the love of a dog. He was gripped by a fear he’d never known before.

  He’d dreamed of being with Casey for years. Some part of his brain had used Casey as a motivator to get clean. Now that he’d realized the dream of what it was like to be with Casey, and then lost it, he didn’t want to be clean anymore. And the ramifications of that scared him.

  He could lose himself again and disappear. That thought held appeal to Brent. He could disappear and then he wouldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes. The pity. His betrayal.

  Every time he closed his eyes, Casey’s eyes gripped him. Her eyes holding the treachery he’d reaped on her. His addiction.

  He was scared that if he stayed, he would fail, have a relapse and she would find out, and he wouldn’t be able to live his life without seeing her beautiful brown eyes filled with reproach and pain. He was terrified of turning into her dad, and giving her every reason to hate him. He was scared of failure: failing himself, failing Casey, failing them.

  There was no them. Frustrated, he lashed out at the TV tray Summer had set up next to his bed, and slammed the plate of eggs into the corner. Mooch was eager to lap up the remnants before anyone complained about food on the floor.

  “Alright, Cowboy. Pity party’s over.” Summer yelled from th
e living room on her way into his bedroom. He grunted in reply.

  “Take me to the hospital.” He told her. He couldn’t handle the ache anymore. Not seeing Casey’s smile made everything so much worse. And knowing he would never see it again made him need to dull the pain.

  “Why?” Summer raised an eyebrow.

  “Because I’m not healing right. I think I need to just go ahead and take the prescription.” The only time he’d ever been able to not remember Casey was when he was in a daze of prescriptions, and he needed that right now.

  “You’re doing just fine. It would have been better at first, if you’d taken them, but we all respect your choice and you’ve gotten through the worst of it.”

  “Take me to the hospital Summer.” He hated raising his voice to his sister, but there was a beast inside of him roaring to get out, and the pills were the only thing to stop it.

  She sighed and went to the living room without saying anything.

  Brent was pissed. He knew the pills would get him through these twinges of hurt, every time he stretched, every time he thought of Casey. The pills would dull the ache.

  Before long, he heard the rumble of Max’s truck. “Summer! What did you do?”

  She came back into his room. “Max was in the barn, helping with the horses. I just called him in to help me give you a little pep talk.”

  Max came sauntering in behind Summer. “Hey man…What’s up?” He leaned against the door jamb, not entering Brent’s already too cramped room.

  “I just wanted someone to take me back to the hospital. I need the prescription.” His fists clenched in his bed sheets.

  “Sorry. No can do. You’ve already past that point. You made your wishes clear on the pain killer thing, man. We’re not taking you now,” Max said simply.

  “I won’t take them all at once. I just need something to make it less. It hurts so bad.” Brent hated to grovel, but he was only half-lying. It did hurt. But he had no intention of taking the pills as directed. He would take enough to end the pain, whatever it took.