I promised Mum and Chase that any time I came close to using again, I’d tell them first. And the night of the party in question, I was shaking so bad from watching the powder disappear as partygoers snorted it that I had to excuse myself and call home at almost 4a.m. before I did something stupid.
Mum was sleeping but answered in full alarm, talking me down from relapse, and Chase picked me up because I was in no mindset to drive. Family means everything to me, and I know putting myself in the position of near death to get bombed isn’t worth risking their sanity. Hearing Mum’s tear-stricken plea to get clean before she had to see paramedics rush me to the hospital, or worse, was more than enough for me to say I’m done.
“Bro.” Zayne punches my arm, brows drawn as he sees me come back from the train of thought that I wandered in. “Are you sure it was what you thought it was? Because Taz—”
“Don’t you think I know what I saw? I’ve been there before, Zayne.”
He raises his hands at my harsh tone. “I know. Shit. I’m just saying. Taz’s younger brother, you know the mechanic at the garage, says he felt for this chick because he knows what it’s like to have health issues. I mean the girl is basically living in her car because she can’t afford anything right now on top of her medicine. That’s got to suck for her.”
I blink in confusion, having no clue what he’s talking about.
Zayne senses the need to explain. “You know my mom has rheumatoid arthritis, right?” I nod slowly, unsure of where this is heading since he’s not that close to his mother. He’d been put in temporary foster care when his parents went through some shit and ended up going from home to home for a lot longer than expected before his family got him back. Not that he’ll admit it, but he still holds onto that despite helping his family out with whatever they need, his mother’s medicine and treatment plans included. “Well, she’s gone through the ringer trying to figure out the best kind of medicine to take. The pills she took didn’t work, so they put her on injections.”
“I thought you said your mum had to go into a clinic and get some sort of treatment?”
He sighs. “She does now. But they don’t put people on that right away. They work up to it. Just shut up for a second and hear me out. Taz’s brother, Mikey, and this girl—don’t worry, they wouldn’t give me her name because Taz has some confidentiality for his business—have to deal with treatment that cost a shit ton of money. One time I remember Mikey saying the medicine he needs can cost over $10,000 or some shit without insurance and he needs that to live. I mean, his brother makes sure he’s covered since his diagnosis, but people like your girl don’t always have it that easy if no one is up to bat for them. I had to watch my mom go through it too and it’s rough.”
My hand goes to my chin, scratching along the slight stubble growing on my jawline until I can gather my thoughts. A small amount of guilt builds in the bottom of my stomach over the possibility of what he’s saying. “Why exactly are you telling me this?”
He gives me the same look that he shoots Jax when he says something stupid. “The guys at the garage found where your girl was storing her used needles and whatnot. Taz and Mikey recognized what they were right away because they have a needle collection just like it that they drop off at medical centers for waste. Experience, you know? And when she came in to collect her car Taz straight up asked if she’d been sleeping in it. Guess she wouldn’t say much, but enough for them to give her some shelter pamphlets they keep around.”
My shoulders straighten. If what he’s saying is true, I kicked a homeless girl out of my house for using medicine she needs.
Nice going, asshole.
“Fuck.” I drop my face into my open palms and grumble to myself.
Zayne pats the back of my shoulder. “You didn’t know.”
“She didn’t look sick,” I tell him.
“Does my mom?”
Well… “Not really.”
He gives me a pointed look. “Did she look like a user? You’d know the signs. We both would.”
I curse again after thinking about it, standing and gripping the back of my neck. The guys all look at me with curiosity as I head toward the door. “Let’s stop for the day. We can figure out another time to come back.”
There’s a distant, “Thank fuck,” from Jax followed by a relieved sound escaping Manning who was starting to get red-faced when I’d cut us off to redo the end.
It’s Zayne who asks, “You going to be good? I could come with. Emotional support.”
I shake my head, feeling like scum of the earth as I pull the door open. “I need to fix this mess myself, but cheers.”
They all wave me off as I snatch my keys from my pocket and head toward my car.
Rylee tried to explain this morning, but I wouldn’t give her the time of day. Guilt crashes into me even though my reaction is semi justifiable. I’ve been burned by people who try getting away with things because I show them even the slightest attention.
That’s an excuse, my conscience says. And I refuse to think about why I have the urge to make it up to her.
I pull around the back of Eastside Garage where I’ll most likely be left alone. There’s an employee-only entrance Zayne told me to use so any customers up front
