“We’re not twenty years old anymore. My niece and nephew made me realize how much I wanna be a daddy someday, but first I need to get my head on straight.”
“Does that mean you’re hoping my sister will wait for you?”
Dalton knew he should give the politically correct answer, but honesty prevailed. “More than anything, but I’m not expecting it. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to, uh, get it together.”
“I really hope it doesn’t take too long,” Brett said, extending his hand. “’Cause I still think you’re the best man for her.”
But would he think that if he knew the truth? “Thanks, buddy,” Dalton said, clasping his hand tightly as he slapped him on the back. “I appreciate that. Enough talk. It’s time for you to get married.”
***
Sophie had cried through most of the ceremony as she watched two of the people she loved most in the world share the culmination of their journey in front of a packed church. She told herself the emotion had nothing to do with the man standing across the aisle from her, but Dalton’s eyes barely left hers as Brett told Carly how much he loved her and couldn’t wait to start their life together.
It was difficult not to imagine Dalton as the groom and herself as the bride, given the circumstances.
“You okay?” Sabrina whispered after the happy couple descended the steps as Mr. and Mrs. Easton.
“Fine.” Sophie was grateful Sabrina was still speaking to her after her behavior last night. “Thanks, by the way,” she said softly as they followed Brett and Carly out of the church, with a throng of well-wishers hot on their heels.
“For what?” Sabrina asked, touching the soft petals of the pale pink roses that combined with the blue hydrangeas to make up their bouquets.
“For calling your brother last night. I know I gave you a hard time about it, but I’m really glad he came when he did. I hate to think what might have happened if I’d actually gone home with that guy.”
Sabrina slipped her arm through Sophie’s even though they were supposed to be paired with Dylan and Dalton as they left the church. “You’re my friend too, Sophie. No matter what happens between you and my brother, you always will be.”
Sophie smiled, patting her friend’s hand. “Thanks. I feel the same way.”
“I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but Dalton’s hurting too.”
“I know.”
She’d been angry last night, but watching him today she was reminded of the man she’d known for years, the one who would do anything for a friend in need, even plaster a smile on his face when he was dying inside, assuming he felt half as bad as she did.
“Think you can put all of this aside for one day?” Sabrina asked. “To help your best friend and brother celebrate?”
“I’m determined to,” Sophie said, squaring her shoulders as they walked outside to be greeted by a perfect day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and everyone around her was smiling and laughing as they tossed rice on the bride and groom as they entered the waiting limousine.
Carly was starting a new life and it was time for her to do the same.
***
Dalton listened to the speeches, trying to smile and laugh at the appropriate times, but it was taking everything in him not to jump out of his seat and make a beeline for the door. He needed air. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in on him and there was nowhere to escape.
By the time the speeches finally wound down, he was sweating and shaking, questioning whether he was having a full blown panic attack as he struggled to suck air into his lungs. “I need to get some fresh air,” he said to Dylan. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Dylan grabbed his arm, his brows pinched together. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Dalton said, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck. “I’m just a little hot. I’ll feel better once I get outside.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No, I’m good,” Dalton said. “You stay here and enjoy the party.”
Dalton barely made it outside before his legs gave way and he landed on a stone bench along a grassy pathway that led to the parking lot. He’d like to blame the physical pain for his state, but that paled in comparison of the crushing emotional agony of standing across the aisle from Sophie, or sitting on opposite sides of the head table, knowing they would never have their chance in the spotlight because of his stupidity.
“Hey.”
Dalton looked up to see one of his former teammates approaching. He’d been a rookie Dalton’s last year on the team so he didn’t know him well, but he spent a lot of time at High Rollers so apparently he and Brett had become close enough to warrant a wedding invitation.
“Hey, James. What’s up?” He hung his head, clasping his hands, hoping he didn’t appear as shaky as he felt. He’d always been good at masking his problems, but it was getting harder and harder to go on pretending with every day that passed.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” He sat down beside Dalton, clutching an unopened water bottle. “You feelin’ alright.”
“I’ve been better.” Never been worse would be a more accurate statement.
“You, uh, need something to take the edge off? I can help you out with that.”
Dalton was shocked when James took a small plastic baggie out of his pocket. He’d recognize those little green pills anywhere. “What the hell are you doing with those?”
“Come on, man.” James chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised.” He bumped Dalton’s shoulder with his own. “Rumour has it you used to eat these things like candy.”
Dalton wasn’t surprised his former teammates had been talking about his drug use in the locker room. It helped them to justify their own. Mitch has been doin’ it for years and it hasn’t hurt him, they’d say. Little did they know. “Yeah, well I’m tryin’ to get off the stuff.”
“That explains why you look like shit.” James grinned. “Maybe you need a couple to get through the day, huh? One of the guys at the table said you just broke up with your girlfriend. She’s that hot little thing with the long dark hair, right? The maid of honour?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Dalton was tempted to reprimand James for the way he’d referred to Sophie, but his eyes kept drifting back to the pills as he waged an internal battle. Should he take just a few to get through the next couple of hours? Would that really be so bad? Tomorrow was a new day. He could start all over again.
“I don’t blame you for bein’ bummed about that. I would be too.” He handed the bag to Dalton discreetly, keeping it hidden from two middle-aged men who’d stepped outside for a cigarette. “Take these, Mitch. I don’t need ‘em. Got plenty more where they came from at home.”
Of course he did. God, what had the sport he loved been reduced to? Is this how all of the players dealt with the inevitable pain? No. Not all of them. Dylan hadn’t turned to drugs and he knew there were many others who’d avoided the temptation. So why hadn’t he been strong enough to tell the team doctors enough was enough instead of accepting the so-called medicine they dispensed like candy?
James stood before handing him the bottle of water. “You were my hero growin’ up, you know that? I used to play high school ball and dream of bein’ just like you.”
Dalton gripped the bag as he hung his head in shame, knowing full well what he intended to do with them. “There are plenty of other guys out there for you to admire, kid. Players who haven’t made the mistakes I’ve made.”
James pointed at the bag in Dalton’s closed fist. “Man, if you’re talkin’ about that stuff, don’t sweat it. That’s nothin’. It’s not like you’re hooked on heroine. This stuff’s legit.” He grinned. “At least that’s what the good doc keeps tellin’ me when he’s handin’ out the prescriptions.”
Dalton watched James walk away as he remembered when he’d been that young and full of himself. He’d felt untouchable, invinc
ible. He knew he had a long career ahead of him and an eight figure contract in his back pocket. What could possibly go wrong? It seemed like only yesterday.
He got up slowly, favoring his left knee, then his right, as he hobbled to his truck, feeling like he’d aged twenty years in the last few hours. The last couple of days had gotten the best of him. He couldn’t continue the fight anymore. Not without a little help from his old friend, or enemy, depending on how well the pills worked.
He crawled into his truck slowly pouring four of the little pills into his hand. Tossing them back with a mouthful of the water James had provided, he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, waiting for sweet relief.
***
It had been half an hour since Sophie saw Dalton venture outside and she was getting worried. He didn’t look well, and when she’d asked Dylan where he went, he confirmed her suspicions. She didn’t think he’d leave without saying good-bye, nor did she think he would drive if he wasn’t well, but she wanted to check, just to make sure.
His big black truck was parked in the first row facing the entrance so it didn’t take her long to see that he’d fallen asleep. She considered leaving him alone, but the disc jockey would be calling the wedding party to the dance floor soon and everyone would note his absence when one of the bridesmaids was standing on the periphery of the floor alone.
She pulled the door open quietly, concerned about startling him if she made too much noise. “Dalton,” she whispered, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “Are you alright?” Her heart started to race when he didn’t respond. That’s when she spotted the small plastic bag on the passenger’s seat. There were two pills left, both labeled Oxy 80.
“Oh God,” she said, touching his face. “How many of these have you taken? Wake up.” She patted harder, her voice more frantic as she cried, “Please, Dalton, please. You have to wake up!”
Dylan must have stepped outside to check on them and heard her crying out to Dalton because he jogged up beside her. “What’s going on?”
“He won’t wake up!” She shoved the plastic bag at Dylan. “And I found these on the passenger’s seat.”
“Oh no.” Dylan paled as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked, loosening Dalton’s tie.
“Calling 911.”
Her stomach fell as she saw the fear in her friend’s eyes. “How many of those do you think he took?”
“Too many.”
She listened to Dylan rattle off the information to the operator, citing a possible OxyContin overdose as the reason his friend was unconscious.
“You don’t think he did this on purpose, do you?” She sank against Dylan’s chest when he put his arm around her. “Because of all the horrible things I said to him last night?”
“Honey, Mitch isn’t the kind of guy who’d take his own life. Trust me, I’ve known him a long time. He’d never wanna go out that way.”
She’d checked his pulse and knew he was still breathing, so at least she hadn’t found him too late. “Please,” she whispered, holding Dalton’s hand. “Please wake up.”
“He’ll be okay,” Dylan said, gripping Sophie’s shoulders. “You have to be believe that. This isn’t the time to give in to fear.”
His voice was so calm and steady it prompted Sophie to look up. That’s when she saw the blend of anger and concern on Dylan’s handsome face. “You don’t seem shocked to have found him like this. Why?”
“I can’t believe he’d be so stupid,” Dylan said, clenching his jaw as his fingertips bit into Sophie’s flesh. “He should’ve known better. I thought he had a handle on this.”
Sophie heard the sirens in the distance, but she fixated on Dalton’s face as the reality came crashing down on her. “The problem he was dealing with…”
“Yeah, this was it,” Dylan confirmed. He set Sophie aside as he stepped closer to his friend. Gripping Dalton’s shoulder, he shook harder before tapping his face. “Come on, man. You gotta wake up. Talk to me.”
Sabrina walked outside, presumably looking for her husband when she spotted them beside her brother’s truck. Her smile slipped as she took in the scene. She started jogging, in spite of her high heels, her eyes wide and frantic by the time she met them. “What happened?” She grabbed her husband’s jacket to haul him away from the truck. “What’s wrong with Dalton?”
“He’s out of it,” Dylan said, pulling Sabrina into his arms when she tried to reach for her brother. “There’s no use, baby. He’s not waking up. The medics are on their way.”
“What happened?” she cried, turning from Sophie to Dylan. “How did this happen? Did he pass out? Why hasn’t he come to yet?”
Sophie held up the plastic bag containing the remaining pills. “I found these on the passenger’s seat,” she said, her words trapped between gasps. “We don’t know how many he took or when. I just found him like this a few minutes ago. He has a pulse.” Those words only seemed to intensify Sabrina’s fear as she clasped a hand over her mouth and began to sob as her husband held her.
“This is all my fault,” Sabrina said, leaning into Dylan’s chest as he stroked her hair. “I should’ve insisted he go in to re-hab. I should’ve known this problem was too big for him to handle on his own.”
Sophie was numb as she watched the emergency vehicles race into the parking lot. It all happened so fast as the competent man and woman in uniform ushered them aside so they could tend to their patient.
More people had gathered at the entrance to the banquet hall until finally the bride and groom made their way outside after news of Dalton’s collapse filtered through the guests.
Carly and Brett ran up to Sophie, demanding answers she couldn’t give. She repeated the same story to her brother and his wife that she’d told Sabrina, but the entire time her eyes were glued on the man she loved, lying immobile on a stretcher while medical personnel tossed around words like non-responsive, low B/P, and needs oxygen. They fired questions at Sabrina she seemed ill-equipped to answer. It seemed no one had any insight into why or how this had happened.
“How could I have missed this?” Sophie asked Brett, gripping his hand. “I spent nearly every day with him for months. “How could I not have known he was…” A drug addict? The term burned as her mind rallied against the truth. No! Dalton’s wasn’t an addict, was he? But isn’t that what Dylan had implied, that his problem had been with the prescription drugs he’d taken?
“He must have started taking them for the pain,” she said, eyeing the bag she’d passed off to paramedics when they demanded to know what he’d taken.
“What?” Brett asked.
“Those pills.” She pointed to the bag sticking out of the paramedic’s shirt pocket. “They said Oxy 80.”
“Jesus.” Brett ran a hand over his head. “How many of those did he take? That’s the highest dose of OxyContin you can get.”
OxyContin? Of course she’d heard of the addictive pain pills many had taken to buying on the street when they could no longer get a prescription, but she couldn’t believe Dalton had fallen victim to their lure. He was so strong, always in control, the last person she would have expected to struggle with addiction.
“Sophie,” Brett said, nudging her shoulder. “Do you know how many he took?”
“No.” She shook her head, unable to stop. “No.”
“Did you have any idea he was taking these?” Carly asked, reaching for Sophie’s hand.
“No.” The single word ricocheted through her mind. No. This can’t be happening. No. I can’t lose him like this. No. I need to help him through this. No. We deserve another chance. No! No! No!
Chapter Seventeen
Dalton woke up in a hospital bed attached to several machines that seemed to be monitoring his vital signs as the afternoon’s events came flooding back. He didn’t have to ask where he was or why he was there. He knew. He remembered that final choice, the one that landed him in the hospital as his ortho
pedic surgeon’s warnings filtered through his mind just a little too late.
“The withdrawal process reduces your tolerance for the drug so you can overdose on a much smaller dosage than you were used to taking. In fact, most overdose deaths occur in people who have recently detoxed or withdrawn from the drug,” he’d said.
At the time Dalton thought the doctor was crazy. Now he realized he was the crazy one for thinking he could fight this battle alone.
But he wasn’t alone now. His parents and sister surrounded his bed, the relief etched on their faces as his eyes travelled from one to another before closing again. He wasn’t tired. He was ashamed, ashamed of the actions that led him here. Ashamed of his weakness. Ashamed he couldn’t have fought a more valiant fight and said no years ago. Ashamed he tried to keep it a secret instead of asking for the help he so desperately needed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. The words seemed inadequate after all he’d put them through, but that was all he had to offer. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“We know you didn’t,” his mother said, reaching for a tissue on the bedside table as her tears fell. “We’re just so glad you’re okay, honey. It could’ve… you could’ve…” She sobbed, leaning into her husband for support.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Thomas demanded.
He was thinking about Sophie, the damage he’d done, the fight to get his life back, how weak he felt. He was questioning whether he could do it, beat the odds and his addiction. He was uncertain he could survive the pain and wondering whether it was worth the effort to try. He didn’t want to end his life. He would never do that. He just wanted the pain to stop.
“Don’t, Daddy,” Sabrina warned, reaching for Dalton’s hand. Careful to avoid the intravenous taped to the back of his hand, she held it gingerly. “He’s going to be okay and that’s the only thing that matters right now.”
Dalton tried to smile at his sister, to thank her for always being there to support him, no matter how stupid or reckless he’d been, but his face felt frozen. He couldn’t even pretend to feel joy when he thought of the journey ahead of him. “Where’s Dylan?” He needed his friends now, not that he thought he deserved them.
Possession (Texas Titans #8) Page 19