Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8

by Jade C. Jamison

  He fell asleep with his head on the table and awoke a few hours later. He sat up. He still wanted to die, but he didn’t want to give in anymore. He no longer had any excuses. Jenna had told him (and he’d promised her back) that they could go through it together. He had to trust her. He couldn’t rely only upon himself anymore.

  He stood up and threw it all in the trash. That wasn’t good enough, though, so he dug the heroin out of the trash and threw it in the sink, running the water and the garbage disposal until he was sure it was gone. Then he dug out the bottle of Everclear and poured it down the same drain. He let out a long sigh as he threw the bottle in the trash, and then he climbed into bed where he stayed until it was time to face the music.

  * * *

  “Ethan, you realize that what you did was a step in the right direction?”

  He nodded. Jenna could tell Ethan felt ashamed that he’d done it anyway, but she grabbed his hand that had been resting on his thigh and squeezed. She wanted him to know he was not alone. And that he’d managed to ignore his addiction, even when it was right under his nose? That said so much to her.

  “So…let’s try some different medications. It’s not enough for me that you’re alive, Ethan. I want you to have quality in your life. I want you to feel that it’s worth living…so let’s see if we can get you there.”

  Jenna was familiar with the two medications Dr. Thomas started telling Ethan about, and she realized that they might not help either, but she took his recovery seriously. He looked like a man on the edge, one ready to end his life, tormented inside, and she felt as though she’d failed him.

  When they left later, she insisted on filling the prescriptions immediately. They sat in the supermarket pharmacy waiting area, and Jenna grabbed his hand again. When he looked at her, she felt like she could drown in his green eyes that shone like playing marbles, in spite of the fact that she knew he was tired and worn down to the soul. She loved this man, though, and she would carry him as far as he needed to become the man he wanted to be. Until today, part of her had wondered if he really wanted to get better, but she saw it now. He wanted it to end and either be whole or be gone. She intended to help him heal.

  She held his hand in hers and whispered, “Ethan?”

  He was still looking at her. She’d never seen him look so gentle or so exposed. He looked raw. He didn’t say a word, instead just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

  “I’m going to be a little pushy. Now, this doesn’t have to be permanent, but I want you to stay with me for the next month or so—or longer if need be. I just…feel like I need to support you as best I can, and I feel like you need someone there to help.”

  God, what was he thinking? Was that skepticism in his eyes or something else? His voice was low and gravelly when he said, “I don’t think that’ll help, Jenna.”

  She hoped she’d managed to hide the frown. “Why not?”

  He shook his head and looked down at her hands around his and brought his other hand over so hers were wrapped in his. “It never helped before.”

  “Ethan, you forget. I’m trained in this field. I’ve studied addiction, and I have experience helping people in recovery. That’s my job. It’s what I do. But I want to be there as much as I can. I feel like I’ve failed you.”

  “You haven’t failed me.” He touched her cheek. “Not by a long shot.” He pulled her into an embrace that felt awkward because of the arms on the chairs, but she returned the hug anyway. “I just…think I’m past saving.”

  She didn’t raise her voice but tried to sound stern nonetheless. “Ethan Richards, don’t you ever say that. There is no such thing. I thought that the first time I worked with a meth addict who’d been using a long time. She’d smoked so much over the years, her teeth were nearly nonexistent and she looked like she was in her thirties at the age of nineteen. She was still emotionally numb the last time I saw her, but she was living a healthy life. She got implants so her face looks normal even if aged, and she started going to school. You know what, though? In spite of all the shit that girl went through, she had hope. Last time I saw her, she’d been clean for over a year. If she could do it, you could.” He had a worried look in his eyes, but it was different. That he was worried told Jenna he might be clinging onto hope…and that was good. “You’re strong, Ethan. Look at everything you’ve gone through. But when you’re not feeling that way, I want to be there to help.”

  He drew in a deep breath and looked down again. “I can’t do that to you, Jenna.”

  The pharmacy tech called Ethan’s name, and he got up before Jenna could respond. He signed for the prescriptions and handed the woman a wad of cash. She gave him his change and stapled the bottles inside a small white paper bag. They walked outside in silence, but when they got to her car, she grabbed his hand again. She took a deep breath. She had to just put it all out there. “I need to tell you something. This is hard for me, but it needs to be said. I…love you, Ethan, and I can’t just stand by and not be active in your recovery. Now, if you don’t really want it, I can walk away and leave you be. But if you want support, if you want help, if you need someone to talk to, someone to lean on, I’m here. I want to be part of your recovery…part of your life. I know it won’t always be pretty…but that’s okay.”

  He blinked. “You said the other day you knew what being addicted is like. Were you ever hooked on anything?”

  She closed her eyes, remembering a time that seemed so long ago. “It might sound lame, but I was addicted to cigarettes. I never tried anything harder, but I discovered I have an addictive personality. I won’t touch anything that could cause me to give in. It would be so easy. But I know what withdrawal is like. The physical part’s easy. It’s the psychological bullshit that drags you down, the games you play with your mind, the way you try to justify just one more time. I get it, Ethan. I’ve been there. And that’s why I know you’re strong.”

  His eyes looked clear then, as though he’d had a revelation. He took her face in his hands and kissed her with passion. It wasn’t sexual, but it was emotional. They were connected in a way that few people were, and she hadn’t realized it until that moment. She’d never believed there was such a thing as a soulmate…until now. If she had one, it was Ethan.

  “I love you too, Jenna.” He kissed her again and she felt hope surging from him to her. He leaned his forehead on hers then. “I just don’t want to put you through this shit. You have enough guys like me you have to help.”

  She sucked in a little breath, finding the courage to say what needed to be said. “I don’t plan to be with them as long as we’ll be together.”

  He raised his eyebrows and smiled. She hadn’t seen him smile in weeks and his expression infused her with hope too. It didn’t last long, though, and he said, “Last chance. You know what you’re getting into.”

  She nodded, feeling a steely determination course through her veins. “I’m here for the long haul.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  TWO MONTHS LATER, Ethan told Jenna he felt happy for the first time since childhood. It was a foreign emotion to him. He’d felt relief, euphoria, pleasure, satisfaction, confidence, pride, and love…but happiness had been elusive. It was that goddamned dark cloud that had followed him for years, but for some reason, this new combination of drugs Dr. Thomas gave him triggered something in his head.

  He’d started thinking of Jenna as his rock. He knew Valerie had loved him and stood by him back in the day, but she hadn’t known how to get through to him. Truth be told, sometimes he would use because of her. He didn’t blame her, but he felt so unworthy of her that he’d drown in a well of drugs and alcohol. Jenna somehow felt more down to earth to him, like someone who’d been in back alleys and seedy bars, someone who’d seen the dark side and been tougher for it. She understood him in a way that no one else in his life ever had. He loved her for that, and that love grew deeper every day.

  He’d taken just a few things over to her apartment that day Dr. T
homas had prescribed new medicines for him. He’d still slept a lot, but Jenna would come home from work and sit on the bed next to him, bouncing and giggling, tickling his ear with her lips, whispering silly things to him until he’d roll over, unable to tune her out. She’d drag him to the movies or dinner. One time she took him to play mini-golf. They went to Barnes & Noble another time, and she refused to leave until he picked out a book that looked interesting to him. When they got home, she drew a gigantic bubble bath and made him get in. She got in after, resting her back against his chest, and read to him. He’d just closed his eyes and rested his head, enjoying the smell of the fruity bubbles, the feel of her hair against his cheek and her body up against his, the sound of her voice as she read the words that painted a picture in his mind.

  They made love that night for the first time in ages, and he held her close until morning.

  The next day, he asked her to move in with him. His apartment was bigger and more comfortable. She’d told him to wait a little because she wanted to make sure it was what he wanted.

  A week ago, though, they’d hauled the last of her things over.

  And today, he sat on the edge of the bed. He’d been awake for the last hour and had just been gazing upon her. Even asleep, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. Her red hair was striking against her pale skin and, asleep, she seemed peaceful and vulnerable, the latter a quality she never exuded awake.

  Now he was staring at one of his guitars, his favorite, the one in a stand by the dresser in his bedroom. He hadn’t held that black beauty in months. He was afraid he’d lost his mojo. He hadn’t been inspired to write or even play over the last year, and he was starting to think he was washed up. Sure, he’d be able to live on residuals for a while, but they wouldn’t last forever. Besides, what the hell would he do with his life without the music?

  Jenna stirred and he felt her arms wrap around him, one around his torso, the other over his shoulder. She kissed his ear. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

  He sighed. “I can’t, Jenna.”

  “You’re just nervous, Ethan. It’s okay. Just pick it up and play an old song. Get reacquainted.”

  She had a point. So he picked up his black baby. She wasn’t the guitar he’d had the longest and not even the one he took onstage the most, but he’d written more music with her than any other. She wasn’t even the one with the richest tones, but she was always honest with him, and he would get a solid feel of how a song would sound both onstage and recorded when he played her, and she stayed in tune longer than a lot of his other guitars. Jenna was right—he should start with her.

  So he picked her up and set her on his lap, resting her shaft in his left hand, running his fingers over the strings, one fret at a time. It felt good. He leaned over and grabbed a pick off the stand as well and strummed a G chord. The strings vibrated against his left hand and somehow felt right. He closed his eyes and thought of one of the first songs he’d written that had become part of Fully Automatic’s permanent playlist. It was called “Blacker are My Days.” He’d only sung it three or four times onstage and then Val had joined the band. After she left, Brad stepped into the frontman position while Zane sang backup and clean vocals on their heavier songs, so he’d never sung it again…but the tune was emblazoned on his soul. He could hear the words, hear the entire band in his head while he started playing the tune. It was a song that started out slow and quiet and then turned hard and heavy one verse in. It was one of those songs that had encapsulated how he’d felt at that time…his world had been a dark, ugly place, and he’d hoped to exorcize some of those feelings with the song. The band had loved the song, had said, “It’s brutally metal,” but no one had understood he’d meant every fucking word he’d written.

  It hurt, feeling all that pain again, but it was a reminder to him that while life wasn’t blue skies and flowers, it was better. Jenna sat next to him, her hand on his back, while he played.

  And then it hit him. She was his inspiration, the promise that things were better.

  And he improvised. It was just a few minutes later that he went to the kitchen and dug out a note pad and pen and started writing music for the first time in over a year.

  * * *

  Jenna knew Ethan had made some sort of breakthrough when she saw him focused on writing a song. It was something she hadn’t seen him do…ever. He looked different too, almost the way he looked sometimes after they made love…at peace—not torn and troubled as she knew he usually was.

  A little while later, he asked her to listen. He immersed himself in the music and didn’t look at her while he sang, but the words drilled deep into her core. He seemed healed and whole, and he was giving all the credit to her. She knew he had more to do with it than she did, but the song made her feel warm anyway.

  They made love that afternoon and then got in the car to pick up Chris for his visit. Ethan hadn’t seen him in over a month and Valerie had chewed his ass over it, telling him he was letting his son down. Ethan hadn’t let it lie, though, and had told Val Chris wouldn’t have wanted to see him in the state he’d been in.

  When he pulled up to the white house almost disguised against the backdrop of snow, he took a deep breath. Jenna wanted to give him a pep talk, but it wasn’t necessary. She instead took his hand and squeezed it, hoping to help him realize he could lean on her for strength.

  He smiled and kissed her before he pulled the keys out of the ignition. They walked up the sidewalk, cleared of snow, and reached the door. Ethan rang the doorbell and was greeted by his son in his best friend’s arms. “Daddy!”

  A grin split Ethan’s face. “Chris, my buddy.” The child reached over and wrapped his hands around his dad’s neck. He was redemption if Jenna had ever seen it. The look on Ethan’s face was one of peace and joy. He kissed his son on the cheek and then said to Brad, “Can I talk to you about business sometime?”

  “Have you thought about it?”

  Jenna wasn’t sure what they were talking about but figured it out when Ethan said, “Yeah. I can’t walk away. I’m in.” She felt her chest swell with emotion, realizing Ethan was recommitting to Fully Automatic.

  Valerie walked in. “Ethan. Glad you could make it.”

  He nodded, his expression cooled. “Yeah.”

  Brad said, “Hey, Jenna, would you mind helping Val get some drinks for all of us? Ethan has some business matters to discuss with me.”

  Ethan cocked his head. “Now?”

  “What better time than the present?” Brad led Ethan into the living room.

  Valerie’s smile was strained, but she said, “Come with me to the kitchen.”

  Jenna saw something then. She understood why Valerie was so gun shy, but she was way too hard on Ethan. Couldn’t she see the changes he’d made? Maybe she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive him. From what Ethan had told her, she partly understood why. She just hoped maybe Valerie could forgive him down the road.

  Once they were in the kitchen, Valerie asked if Jenna would be willing to slice a couple of lemons. “Sure.” She watched as Val squeezed several of the yellow fruits into a pitcher on the table. But then Jenna noticed the little bump on the other woman’s belly. She wasn’t wearing jeans; she was wearing black yoga pants and a ladies’ tee, but Jenna could tell. “When are you due?”

  Val looked up, removing the lemon rind from the juicer and cutting another lemon in half. “You can tell?”

  Jenna shrugged. “It’s kinda obvious.”

  “Oh, crap. Please don’t say anything. I haven’t told Brad yet.”

  “How far are you along?”

  “Six weeks, maybe eight. I’m not sure. I just took a pee test a couple of weeks ago to be sure.”

  Jenna smiled, slicing the second lemon. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “Thanks.” Val squeezed the other half of the lemon she had and asked, “So…how’s Ethan doing?”

  Jenna was hesitant, not knowing what Valerie’s motives w
ere, but the truth wasn’t a bad thing. She was glad his ex had asked, because it told Jenna maybe the woman really did care. “He has good days and bad, you know? He had a really bad spot there…that’s why he didn’t want to take Chris last time.” She paused slicing the lemon to look at Val. “He wants to be better for his son, but it’s been a long, hard road.” Val nodded, cutting another lemon in half. “Did you know he wanted to die?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…he didn’t try to commit suicide…not in the traditional way, but he tried anyway. His overdoses? Maybe they weren’t accidental. He’s been struggling with chronic depression for a long time, and I think that’s part of why he abused drugs for so long.”

  Val was quiet for several moments, squeezing two more lemon halves. She nodded but said nothing. Then she took the pitcher to the sink and added water and then poured sugar inside and stirred it with a long wooden spoon. She brought the pitcher back to the table and started putting the lemon Jenna had sliced in the liquid. Jenna had never seen anyone make lemonade from scratch, so she was a little impressed. Val stirred it again and then said, “Look…I know you’re feeling some sympathy for Ethan. I get it. I’ve been there. But I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t warn you. He’s poison. He’s charming and irresistible. He makes you feel like you’re the only woman on the planet…until he makes you feel like shit because he’s off screwing someone else. Or he’ll tell you he’s clean but the next thing you know, he’s high as a kite. Ethan is good looking and he’s charming and he knows it. It took me years to realize that Ethan’s only concern is himself.”