Clean Break (A Little Like Destiny Book 3)

by Lisa Suzanne

  “You ready?” Vinny asks me.

  I lift a shoulder. How can you ever prepare for this moment? How can you ever be ready to see the person you love more than anyone or anything in the world sitting in a bed in a hospital because he’s self-destructing?

  He nods then opens the door.

  My eyes instantly meet Mark’s across the room. He’s connected to an IV and his head rests against a pillow, but he sits up a little straighter when he sees me. He looks like my Mark, though he looks like an exhausted, weaker version of the man I love. The man I can’t get out of my head because my heart won’t allow it. His eyes are sunken deep into his pale face. The normal vibrancy and charisma are replaced with the haunting look of a man who’s completely lost.

  He looks away from me as he refocuses his eyes out the window. “What are you doing here?” His tone is blunt but his voice is weak. The rasp I recognized behind his lyrics on Friday night was because of whatever this is. This doesn’t look anything like the strong man I fell for after one night.

  Seeing him like this—like the man I love but at the same time not—causes the fissures in my heart that I thought might be starting to mend to split wide open again.

  “Exhaustion?” I ask, going for a light tone. I expect him to give me some sort of acknowledgment, a wry smile or even a look of shame to validate my innuendo, but all he does is lift a shoulder without looking at me.

  I glance around the huge hospital room. Only the best for a celebrity who needs help, I suppose.

  A nurse is busy with a stack of papers near a counter on one side of the room. She’s young and blonde and pretty and I hate that he’s in here with her. She glances over at me but keeps doing whatever she’s doing. Vinny steps back out into the hallway to give us the illusion of privacy.

  I force one foot in front of the other. This is hard, but whatever demons he’s battling are worse than what’s going on in my head. Whatever put him here is harder, and suddenly I’m desperate to be the one he unloads that on. I thought once upon a time that I couldn’t be strong enough to shoulder his issues, that we’d need to face them together, but maybe I’m stronger than I’ve given myself credit for.

  I look at his bed—I want to sit there, but I’m not sure how welcome it would be. I choose the chair next to the bed instead. I reach for his hand, but he pulls it away.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

  “I agree.”

  He finally blows out a breath and his green eyes fall to mine, those same green eyes I love, but they’re different today. “Who told you?”

  “You ready for this one?” I press my lips together.

  He lifts both brows.

  “Brian.”

  He shakes his head. “How does he even know?”

  “I didn’t ask. He’s worried about you.”

  He ignores my words. “You were there on Friday.” He says it like a fact, not a question.

  I nod slowly. “The tickets were a surprise from a friend who thought I’d love to see my favorite band from the front row.”

  “But you ran out. Our new shit’s not that bad is it?” A glimmer of my sweet Mark shines through this new version at his teasing tone.

  “I loved seeing you there,” I say softly as I pick at a fingernail that doesn’t need picking. “But ‘Until You’ was kind of rough.”

  “Rough like it needed work?”

  I shake my head. “Rough like it was hard to hear.”

  His brows draw down. “A love song that was hard to hear?”

  “That was a love song? You said you didn’t know what hate was until you met me.”

  “Didn’t you listen to the last verse?”

  “I left somewhere around ‘I can’t think of you anymore.’”

  His eyes soften for just a beat, but then his gaze returns to the window. “You should’ve stayed.” He doesn’t expand on that, and I can’t help but wonder about the rest of the song.

  “What are you doing to yourself, Mark?”

  “Trying to find something that makes me feel as good as the last hit I took.”

  “If you’re trying to make a joke, it’s a bad one.”

  He levels his gaze at me, and there’s not a trace of joking behind his sad eyes. “I was talking about you.”

  “Oh.” Like some bumbling fool, it’s all I can think of to say.

  We’re both quiet, and I look out the same window he’s returned his gaze to. After everything we went through, it’s hard to believe we can’t come up with anything to say to each other right now.

  “People are worried about you. Your sister—”

  “Thinks she knows everything. She doesn’t,” he says, interrupting me. His voice is cold and hard. The nurse glances over at us.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  He holds out a hand as if to tell me to continue.

  “She’s been worried about you for a while. She told me to get in touch with you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” he asks. His voice is flat, and I can’t tell if he’s asking because he wanted me to or if he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious why I didn’t.

  “You basically kicked me out of Chicago and told me you needed to focus on your family. What was I supposed to do?”

  He doesn’t answer as he rests his head back on his pillow. “I need to sleep. I’m in here for exhaustion.”

  “Understandable. I’ve heard drinking and marijuana can make you tired, but mixing morphine on top of that must make you downright exhausted.”

  He presses his lips together, not responding to my words yet at the same time acknowledging the truth of what I said—that I know the real reason he’s in here.

  “Two depressants mixed with liquor would exhaust anyone,” I say.

  “I don’t need another goddamn lecture.” His voice is sharp—sharper than I’d expect in his weakened state, and the nurse glances over at us again. He looks at her. “Can you give us a minute?” he asks her.

  “I’ll just be a few more minutes, Mr. Ashton,” she says. “And I need to check your bags before I go.”

  He blows out a frustrated breath and nods over toward the nurse. “Becky’s just making sure I’m not going to hurt myself. Or you.”

  “You already hurt me once,” I say softly. “Give me your worst.”

  His eyes soften again, and I feel like I might be getting through to him.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I ask.

  “That was a question.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m serious.”

  He nods.

  “You have it all, Mark. You have everything going for you—talent, money, fame. Why are you on this path of self-destruction?”

  He shakes his head and looks at me pointedly. “Because I don’t have everything.” He lowers his voice and breaks our eye contact.

  I catch his hidden meaning, and it breaks my heart.

  I stand from my chair and sit on the edge of his bed. I take one of his hands between both of mine. It’s ice cold—a temperature I’d never associate with Mark. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  He blows out a breath and closes his eyes. Becky steps over and does something to his IV bag before tapping some information into a computer.

  His breathing evens out, and by the time Becky leaves the room, he’s asleep.

  I hold his hand as I sit on his bed, staring at the man I love as I wonder where the hell we go from here.

  fifteen

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Ethan’s sharp voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  Mark has been sleeping for the last hour as I’ve sat on his bed and held his hand. I carefully untangle my fingers from his and stand. I walk across the room toward Ethan as I sort of feel like I’ve stepped into a movie. It’s so weird to be in the same room as two people whose performances I’ve admired for over a decade. One’s half in love with me, I think, and the other hates my very existence.

  “Brian told me he was here,�
�� I say quietly.

  “You’re the reason he’s here.” Ethan’s eyes are hard and his voice is cold.

  I close my eyes in pain for a beat at his words. I know he’s just lashing out, but he’s not wrong. This is my fault. Mark admitted as much when he said he was looking for something that makes him feel the same way I made him feel. “I know. And I’m going to make it right.”

  “How?”

  “Look, you’re not exactly innocent.”

  He narrows his eyes at me.

  “He told me about the last time he was hospitalized for exhaustion.”

  I don’t miss the surprise that flashes through his eyes, but our conversation is cut short when Becky walks back into the room. “Is he still sleeping?” she asks. She glances at her watch.

  I nod.

  “This is the first time he’s slept for more than a few minutes since he got here,” she says. She looks at Ethan and points at him with a glare. “Don’t you dare wake him up, Ethan Fuller.”

  He grins at her with innocence, and it’s easy to see how he and Mark together make one hell of a team. Both devastatingly handsome bad boys with a proclivity for sex.

  Becky rolls her eyes and looks at me. “He seemed to instantly calm when you walked in. Keep doing whatever you’re doing.” She heads over to the counter to flip through her paperwork again.

  I give Ethan a pointed glare then walk back to the bed. I sit in the chair beside it and slide my phone out of my pocket. Ethan collapses on a couch by the windows, but I don’t pay attention to him.

  Mark jolts awake in the bed a few minutes later. I drop my phone with a clatter onto the table beside his bed and stand as he pants out a breath.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. Becky rushes over.

  He looks gratefully at me and nods. “Some water, please.” His voice is dry and scratchy from sleep, and I hand him the cup sitting beside my phone. He gulps it down and hands the cup back to me, and Becky starts poking and prodding at him to check his vitals.

  “When the fuck can I go home?” he growls at her.

  “We’re keeping you one more night for observation, but if everything looks good in the morning, you’ll be released then.”

  He groans in annoyance. “I was hoping to get out tonight.”

  Becky shoots him an apologetic smile. “Sorry Charlie.”

  “His name’s Mark,” Ethan says.

  Becky rolls her eyes. “I know. Haven’t you ever heard that phrase? Sorry Charlie?”

  Ethan just stares at her blankly. “I’ve heard of the phrase bedside manner from a hot nurse.”

  “Smooth, Fuller,” Mark says.

  Becky blushes and taps some notes on the computer.

  “How do I keep my mother out of here another night?” Mark asks. I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, Ethan, Becky, or himself.

  “Why do you want to keep your mom out?” I ask.

  He glances up at me. “I don’t want her to know the real reason I’m in here.”

  “No one will say a word if you want her here,” Becky says without glancing up from the screen.

  He blows out a heavy sigh. “Want is such a strong word.”

  I giggle, but his mom should be here for her son.

  “I’ll text Liz,” he says.

  I’m nervous as I watch him contact his family to let them know they can come visit. I’m terrified to see Diane again, excited to see Lizzie, wondering if Gram and Paul will come, too. Maybe I should leave. I don’t know what this means, that I’m here with Mark and about to see his family again—does it even mean anything?

  All I know is the second Brian told me where Mark was, I needed to be by his side. Whether or not that has significance remains to be seen, and right now that’s not the focus. Getting Mark out of this hospital needs to be our sole focus. Everything else can come later.

  Ethan takes off and Lizzie arrives shortly after. Her eyes speak of the surprise she feels in seeing me here, but she gives me a big hug. “Exhaustion?” she asks Mark, rolling her eyes.

  He nods with innocence, and I get the feeling she knows the truth just like Brian did. Mark likes to act like the big, strong brother who doesn’t want his younger siblings to know the truth, but they know. He has weaknesses just like everyone despite his status as a god of rock.

  “You look like shit,” she says, and I giggle.

  “I hate you,” he tells her, but the affection in his voice betrays his real feelings.

  “Hope you’re getting plenty of sleep in here because you look like you need it.”

  “Get out,” he says, and she ignores him as she plops down on the bed.

  “When are they springing you from this joint?” she asks.

  “Tomorrow.” He glances at the nurse. “I figured I couldn’t keep mom out another night.”

  “She’s been blowing up my phone about why you couldn’t have visitors. Fair warning, you may want to fake sleep when she gets here.” Lizzie turns back to me. “You have somewhere to stay tonight?”

  “I, uh, haven’t thought that far ahead to be honest.” I figured I’d just crash in Mark’s hospital room.

  “Stay with me.” She says it like a command, not like an invitation, so I’m sort of trapped into it. It’ll be nice, though, to stay with someone who feels like a friend.

  I glance over at Mark, and he just shrugs at me like he can’t stop the steamroll of his sister any more than I can.

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” I say as a weak protest.

  “Then I’ll put you to work.” Lizzie grins at me.

  The door is thrown open and Diane’s voice fills the room. “Oh, Mark!” She flies through over to her son and—just as Lizzie predicted—smothers him. “You look terrible!”

  Paul walks in next and his surprised eyes fall on me. I smile awkwardly at him.

  “How have you been, Reese?” he asks softly.

  I lift a shoulder as I wonder exactly how much he knows about what happened between me and his two sons. “Hanging in there.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  My eyes fall on Mark as his mother fawns over him. I decide to give Brian the credit he deserves here. “Brian called to tell me Mark needed me, and I dropped everything.”

  “Thank you,” he says, giving my forearm a squeeze. “I’m not sure either of my sons deserves you.”

  I glance at the floor as heat creeps into my cheeks. “That’s nice of you to say.”

  “How’s he doing?” Paul asks. We both glance over at him. Diane’s talking quietly the way a mother does to soothe her thirty-four-year-old child, and he looks both miserable and exhausted.

  I tiptoe around what happened but I’m blunt with the truth. “He needs rest. It’s been busy since I got here and I’m sure it won’t slow down.”

  “We won’t stay long. When Diane got the text from Mark that he was cleared for visitors, we were on our way home from an evening out.”

  I nod, and he goes over to join his wife and son. Lizzie steps closer to me so we can have a quiet conversation of our own.

  “How are you?” she asks softly.

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “It’s not every day your ex-boyfriend calls you to let you know his brother, who also happens to be your other ex, is in the hospital halfway across the country.”

  “But you’re here. What does that mean?”

  I glance over at Mark, and our eyes lock across the room. “I don’t know what it means. I don’t know if it means anything at all.”

  * * *

  Lizzie has to leave to get ready for work tomorrow, and she takes me home with her. I don’t hug Mark, don’t kiss him when I say goodbye, and it feels like something’s missing. It’s just a simple goodbye when I want it to be so much more. I have so much I want to say to him, but I have no idea where to begin. Since Lizzie is dragging me with her back to her place, I don’t get the chance to talk to him alone.

  I chuckle at the photo of Mark and Brian standing next to Beavis and Butt-head that gre
ets me near her entry. Dave is watching ESPN just like the last time I walked into this condo.

  “How is he?” he asks. He turns off the television.

  Lizzie shrugs, and I’m still wondering how much they know. “He looked like shit but he’s getting sprung in the morning.”

  “You do know what getting sprung means, don’t you?” Dave asks her.

  “It’s like getting released from the hospital.” She flips her hair back haughtily.

  Dave grins. “It also means getting a boner.”

  She rolls her eyes and looks pointedly at me. “We have company.”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” I say.

  Dave winks at me. “I knew I always liked you.”

  Lizzie takes me back to the guest room I stayed in the night Brian confessed and Mark kicked his ass. She brings me towels and asks if I need anything else as I set my bag on the dresser.

  “I’m fine, but I know I’ll be restless. Is there anything I can do?”

  She nods. “I’ve got a little over a month until the wedding. There’s always stuff to do.”

  I giggle and she sits on the bed.

  “Before we get to all that, though, talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “What’s going on? Why’s he really in the hospital?”

  I play dumb and shrug.

  “Same reason as last time?” she asks.

  “Exhaustion,” I say.

  She nods. “Okay. We both know that’s bullshit, but if you’re not going to tell me...”

  “Brian said he mixed some things and overdosed.”

  She shakes her head and averts her eyes to the floor. “I knew he was on this stupid path and I didn’t know how to stop him.” She looks up at me. “I hope you can get through to him.”

  I sit beside her. “I hope I can, too. But just because I’m here...I don’t know if it changes anything.”

  “I’m scared for him, Reese. I don’t want to lose him to something so stupid.” Her voice is passionate, and I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze.

  “We won’t.”

  She nods. “You think you might get back together?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. But I’m here, and that’s the first step.”