Drawn In

by Sean Ashcroft

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Drawn In

  Sean Ashcroft

  Copyright © 2017 by Sean Ashcroft

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Hope Springs was more or less exactly the way Owen remembered it from the day he left eight years ago. He’d never expected to come back, but life didn’t always work out the way it was planned, and he knew that now.

  So far, his hometown had been a balm for his soul. All his worries, all his problems seemed much more manageable as he walked past street signs he’d seen thousands of times, saw faces he recognized, took in the smell of the fresh air and the sight of the Rockies in the distance. Everything about it felt like home.

  He’d missed this place. He hadn’t realized until he’d come back how much so.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

  Owen turned around to see Jude standing in the middle of the diner they’d spent so much of their teenage years in, waiting for Owen to notice him. He still had the same bright green eyes, his straw-colored hair still just long enough to get in the way of them. Exactly the way Owen remembered him.

  Owen didn’t even hesitate before pulling him into a hug. Jude felt small in his arms, but he’d always been on the skinny side.

  It was probably just the overwhelming relief at seeing his childhood best friend again. Being around people he knew and loved was doing wonders for his overall mood, but also playing havoc with his memory.

  “Hey yourself,” Owen responded, letting Jude go free and sliding into the same booth they’d always claimed, the one in the back corner near the doors to the kitchen.

  “You look good,” Jude said.

  “Bullshit,” Owen responded. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes and a general air of misery about him, but it was lifting. Slowly but surely, it was lifting. Being home really was helping.

  “It seemed like the kind of thing to say.” Jude shrugged. He had the same dark circles, but that wasn’t exactly new for Jude. He always worked too hard, worried too much.

  Owen had wanted to protect him from himself since they were in preschool.

  “Thanks for not coming out and saying I look like crap, I guess.” Owen smiled wryly. “How’s your dad?”

  Jude’s dad had been sick when he left, and Owen had never heard what had come of that.

  “Dead.” Jude looked down at the table, clearing his throat. “He, uh. He died a couple of months after you left.”

  Owen’s own father had died a few months before he’d left home. It was part of the reason he’d gotten out so quickly, not ready to process the grief, the hole left in his life.

  It was all of the reason he’d never come back before now.

  He could imagine how Jude felt, and he hated that he’d ever had to feel that way. Guilt at not having been there to help him hit him square in the stomach.

  “Oh, man. I’m so sorry. I would’ve come back for the funeral, helped you out…”

  “I know,” Jude said. “I know you would have, which was why I didn’t tell you. You’d just gotten married and you were at college and I didn’t want to add any more stress to that. Besides, we coped okay.”

  “How’s your mom?” Owen asked, wondering now how she’d taken her husband’s death. Owen had never felt like they were all that close, but everyone’s relationship was different.

  “Also dead.” Jude looked down again, then reached out for the bottle of water on the table between them, grabbing glasses and pouring them one each. “Beginning of the year. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  Jude didn’t look okay, but Owen didn’t really feel like it was his place to say so. He’d been gone, and he’d left his best friend to go through the death of both of his parents alone.

  Some best friend he was.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  He hated that Jude hadn’t felt as though he could call. Sure, it’d been… nearly eight years since they’d seen each other, but that didn’t mean that Owen wouldn’t have been there for him.

  “It’s okay. I could have gotten in touch, and I didn’t. It is really good to see you, though,” Jude said, downing his whole glass of water in one greedy draught and pouring another one right away.

  “You too,” Owen said.

  “So, how’s Lisa?”

  Owen swallowed, looking down at his lap. “She, uh. She died, too. I guess that’s going around.”

  “Oh, shit,” Jude said. “I’m so sorry. I never heard. How long… I mean, if you’re okay talking about it?”

  Lisa and Jude had been friends. It was bound to come as a shock to him, and Owen hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. He’d intended to break the news gently.

  Too late now.

  “Just barely a year ago. She, uh. Umm. Wow.” Owen grabbed the glass of water Jude had poured for him, swallowing it down in a few greedy mouthfuls to save himself having to talk. “This is harder than I thought it’d be. No one’s mentioned it since I got back.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Jude said. “It’s okay.”

  Owen shook his head. “She was your friend. You have a right to know.”

  “Was she sick?” Jude asked.

  Owen wet his lips. He still felt guilty about how Lisa had died, but everyone else knew. There was no point in trying to hide it. “She died giving birth. Apparently that’s still a thing.”

  It felt like his fault. He was the one who’d wanted a baby. She’d gone along with it. If she hadn’t… she would still have been around.

  Jude covered his mouth with his hand, shock written all over his face. “Oh, Owen. I’m so sorry.” He paused for a moment, hesitating, his fingers restless against the chipped edge of the table.

  “The baby?” Jude asked eventually, obviously afraid he was about to hear the worst.

  Owen hadn't meant to dump any of this on Jude. Definitely not like this.

  “Healthy little girl,” Owen reassured him. “She’s okay. I have pictures, if you wanna see?”

  “Absolutely,” Jude said.

  Owen smiled, getting out his phone to show Jude. He opened the album he had just for baby pictures, and handed it over. “Her name’s Kayla.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Jude said, reaching out to touch the photo, a soft, warm smile spreading over his face.

  “Yeah, she is. I haven’t seen her in three months,” Owen admitted. That was why he was back. It had taken a long time to get his life to the point where he could move back home, but all the effort and heartache would be worth it when he got to see his little girl again.

  “Wh
y not?”

  Owen swallowed. “I wasn’t… in a good place when Lisa died,” he said. “It was too much, with a new baby and a full-time job and no breaks from either. I took some time off and got by, but then Kayla got sick when she was nine months old and I couldn’t cope with it. Lisa’s parents… I don’t wanna speak ill of them, but…”

  “I’m not going to repeat it,” Jude assured him.

  “They came up one weekend and took Kayla away. I mean, they offered to help, but I didn’t know what they were planning. I haven’t been able to get down here to see her since.”

  Owen hated himself for that. He hated that he’d lived so far from home, he hated that he’d prioritized his job over his daughter, even if he thought his reasons were good at the time. He hated that, on the weekends, when he could have come down from New York and spent a few precious hours with Kayla, he’d been too exhausted to move, too world-weary to do anything other than sleep.

  He hated himself for not being there for his little girl when she’d needed him most.

  No matter how many people told him it wasn't his fault, that he’d pushed himself too hard, tried to make himself do too much with too little help, he felt as though he’d failed everyone he loved. Especially Kayla. All he wanted was a chance to put things right.

  “They got custody of her while I was still struggling to keep my life together. I deserved it. I was a bad father. But it did kick my ass into not wallowing anymore.”

  “I don’t think you’re a bad father,” Jude said softly. “I think you’re doing the best you can. You always do.”

  “Yeah, well…” Owen shrugged, guilt still sitting uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He intended to put his mistakes right, he just needed a little time and his family around him so he could figure out what to do next. “Can I buy you lunch?”

  Jude wet his lips. “I don’t think I should eat,” he said, sipping his water.

  “Are you sick?” Owen asked, suddenly worried. Jude did look a little on the pale side. Owen had dismissed it as the effect of a long winter and Jude being pretty pale to start with, but now that he was paying attention, he could see it was more than that.

  “I’m fine,” he said in a hurry, biting his lower lip.

  Which meant he was hiding something. Jude had never been much of a liar.

  Besides, he looked sick. Owen hated the idea that Jude would hide that from him. They might not have spoken in a while, but Jude was still his best friend.

  “Hey, talk to me,” Owen said.

  He’d failed Jude, too. He didn’t deserve his trust or his friendship, but he was willing to beg for it if he had to. Jude had gotten him through pretty much his entire childhood.

  “I…” Jude swallowed thickly. “You have more important things to worry about.”

  “I’m a grown man,” Owen said. “I can worry about a ton of things at once.”

  Jude shifted his weight, not meeting Owen’s eyes.

  This was starting to look serious.

  “Jude,” Owen said, raising his voice just a touch.

  Jude finally looked up at him. “That was a really good dad voice. You’re gonna be such a great father.”

  “Jude,” Owen repeated. “Come on, man. I know I haven’t been there for you, but I’m trying now. Give me a break. Please?”

  Jude swallowed again. “I lost my health insurance,” he said. “And that was okay for a little while, but then I fell into the coverage gap and now I can’t afford… I’m gonna die, Owen. I’ve tried everything. I’m sorry.”

  It sounded like the first time Jude had said it out loud, the tremor in his voice heartbreaking. His hands shook as he picked up his glass of water again, sipping it carefully.

  Owen sat back, his head spinning. He couldn’t handle anyone else dying.

  Jude was diabetic. Owen knew he relied on insulin, but it had never been a problem when they were kids.

  He remembered reading about the cost tripling or something a while back. He’d thought of Jude at the time. He just hadn’t ever thought that it’d reach the stage where he couldn’t afford it.

  And now Jude had given up. Owen had read about diabetics doing that, once. Read about the way it wore them down to need daily medication, to have to watch their food intake so carefully. Jude had always needed a high dose, and he hadn’t been able to have sugar at all.

  He would have gotten very sick, very quickly without it. Owen could see the strain in his face, the greyish tint of his skin. It was much worse than Jude was letting on.

  “You’re not gonna die,” Owen said before he’d fully formed the thought.

  His best friend wasn’t going to die. Not over not being able to afford his medication. There were lots of things Owen couldn’t fix, but this wasn’t one of them.

  He’d made so many mistakes lately, lost so much. That stopped now, with Jude.

  “I’m already so sick,” Jude explained. “I can’t hold out on a third of my normal dose much longer, and soon I won’t be able to cover that, either.”

  Owen’s heart pounded in his chest, his lungs tight. Jude wasn’t allowed to give up.

  He stood up from the table, waiting for Jude to do the same.

  “What are you doing?” Jude asked, staring at him.

  “Taking you straight to the pharmacy,” Owen said. He shouldn’t have been taking on extra responsibilities right now, but he couldn’t lose Jude. Jude couldn’t die on him.

  No more death. Not right now.

  “I told you, I can’t…”

  “Shut up,” Owen snapped, raising his voice. He was in full panic mode now, and he didn’t mean to yell at Jude, but he needed him to listen for once in his life.

  He couldn’t lose Jude. He couldn’t. Not at any cost, not for anything. Not when it was so easy to save him.

  Owen understood. He understood why Jude wanted to give up. He’d wanted to give up every single week for the last year.

  That didn’t mean Owen was going to let him.

  Jude stared at him, shock written all over his face. Owen rarely raised his voice.

  Or at least, he’d rarely raised his voice when they’d been kids. Stress and adulthood had changed him, but that was something he was trying to work on. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who yelled.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you can’t afford it. But I can, and I can’t think of any better way to spend that money than keeping you alive.”

  “What good is one more vial, Owen? What happens next time, and the time after? You can’t subsidize my life forever.”

  “I can if I have to,” Owen said, barely holding back panic, his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out all other sound. The words I'm gonna die echoed in his head, making his throat close up.

  Not Jude. Not Jude, too. Not after everything he’d already lost.

  “This is your life, man. This is the difference between living and dying. I’m not gonna let you just stop taking your medication when I can do something about it. You don’t wanna die, do you?”

  Owen understood why Jude hadn’t asked for help. He’d been afraid to ask for help, too, until he’d come back home and realized that it had been there for the taking the whole time.

  Right now, Owen was afraid, too. He was shaking with fear.

  Jude didn’t get to keep making the same mistake. Not if Owen was around to save him from it.

  “No, of course not,” Jude responded, tears welling up in his eyes. “But you can’t-”

  “No buts. I can, and I will.” He held out his hand for a tense moment, wishing and hoping that Jude would take it.

  Owen breathed a sigh of relief when he did, thanking the universe for getting him back home in time to do something about this. Maybe there really was a reason for everything.

  “Okay. Good.” Owen squeezed Jude’s hand as he stood.

  Now that he knew Jude was sick, it seemed so much more obvious. Everything about him seemed frail and delicate, not at all like the fun, full-of-life
best friend he’d known when they were younger.

  He regretted not keeping in touch, now. Maybe he could have prevented this situation before it got so bad.

  Regrets didn’t change anything, so he shoved them aside and tugged Jude toward the door.

  “Come on. We’ll get you what you need now, and worry about the next vial when the time comes. I’m not letting you die on me.”

  Jude was silent, but he was following without protest. That was all Owen wanted right now.

  He’d screwed up a lot of things lately, and he wasn’t about to make this one of them.

  Chapter Two

  Jude knew Owen was only trying to help, but it didn’t seem likely that he’d want to help long-term when he realized what a burden Jude would quickly become. Without insurance, his insulin was over two hundred dollars a vial, and he needed three of them a month.

  “Just come with me,” Owen said as they left the diner, heading out onto the street. The pharmacy wasn’t too far, which was just as well. Jude wasn’t sure how far he would have been able to walk.

  He used to walk everywhere. He was one of the fittest people he knew, though he didn’t exactly have a body-builder physique to show for it. Now, it was a struggle to do anything.

  He’d thought about trying to crowdfund his medication until he could afford it again, but besides not being able to deal with the thought of begging strangers on the internet for money, he had no idea when he’d be able to afford it.

  Or if he’d ever be able to afford it. Six hundred dollars a month was a lot of money, and that was just for the insulin itself. There were other things he needed, and if he’d so much as gotten an infected cut... it would have wiped out the little money he had left. And insulin wasn’t something he was going to stop needing any time soon. There was no cure for being diabetic. He’d either die of this, or die of something else.

  It seemed like a waste to invest in him. He was never getting better. He was always going to be a burden.

  “This isn’t the kind of problem you can solve,” he told Owen, defeat settling uncomfortably in his stomach. Owen had solved so many of his problems when they were younger, but he couldn’t protect Jude from his own body. Not forever.