Poison & Wine Page 6

  “Is. You said was an alcoholic. He is an alcoholic. Even if he hasn’t had a drink in years.”

  “Right.” I nod.

  That’s another thing that’s difficult. Admitting that you’ll always be an addict, even when you aren’t using.

  “Fuck, this day is dragging.” Tommy reaches around and scratches the back of his head.

  “You doing okay? Seem a bit on edge?”

  “Who me?” His gaze swings in my direction. “I’m good. Just ready to get the fuck out of here. It’s been one of those days.”

  Someone who’s not familiar with the telltale signs of an addict might overlook Tommy’s behavior. But I’m all too acquainted with what it feels like to fight off an urge when it hits you seemingly out of nowhere. Even when there’s nothing around to trigger it. Sometimes that’s how it happens.

  “I’m gonna hit up a meeting tonight after work. You want to come with me?”

  “Nah, I’m going to wait and go in the morning.”

  “You sure?” I take one more drag of my cigarette before snubbing it out in the ashtray next to the door.

  “Yeah. I’ve got some shit to do tonight.”

  “Tommy, if you need a meeting you shouldn’t put it off.”

  “Look at you, fresh out of rehab and already telling me what I need.” He seems annoyed, a little pissed off even.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply… It’s just…”

  But he cuts me off, clearly not wanting to hear what I have to say. “Listen, I get that you need something to focus on other than what you’re going through right now. But do us both a favor and don’t make your new favorite pastime mothering me. I’m not new to this process and when I need a meeting, I’ll go to a meeting.”

  “Okay.” I tug open the door. “But just so you know, my sobriety hinges on yours. So if it seems like I’m overstepping, I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He blows out a heavy breath. “I’m just frustrated.”

  “I get it. It’s cool. I’m going to head back inside.” I gesture into the shop.

  “Yeah, cool. I’ll see you in there in a few.”

  With that, I step into the garage and let the door close behind me.

  The remainder of the day is pretty uneventful. After leaving work with Tommy right after five, we grabbed some pizza and headed home. I went to a meeting and he took off shortly after seven to go see a friend, though he didn’t specify who or what it was that he was doing…not that it’s any of my business.

  I have to remind myself that I’m not his keeper. He’s managed to stay sober for a year without any help from me. But even still, I can’t help but worry about him. Maybe because worrying about him keeps me from worrying about myself.

  I headed to bed a bit after ten but haven’t been able to fucking sleep to save my life. That’s one thing I miss – sleep. When I was high, I would pass out for hours. Now, I’m lucky if I get a solid two or three hours in without waking up. I toss and turn constantly and have the most vivid fucking dreams.

  I roll to my side, peering at the bedside table I picked up from a local department store and built myself. It’s a little crooked and one of the legs is out of line with the others, but it serves its purpose just the same.

  The clock on top reads just after one in the morning.

  “Fuck,” I grumble, pushing myself out of bed. The parking lot light outside shines directly into my room, giving me enough light through the blinds to make my way to my door without running into anything.

  Tugging open the door, I head toward the kitchen to grab a slice of left-over pizza before heading onto the small balcony that overlooks the parking lot.

  It’s a little chilly out tonight. Not cold by any means, but chilly for Southern Mississippi in June. Sliding down into one of the worn outdoor chairs, I tear off a bite of pizza with my teeth and slowly chew as I look out over the parking lot.

  It takes me a few to realize that I don’t see Tommy’s car in the lot. Wondering where the hell he could be at this hour, I stand and head back inside.

  Grabbing the cheap, prepaid phone Tommy got me from where I left it on the kitchen counter, I pull up my contacts. There are only two in there - Tommy and the shop - so I don’t have to scroll to find his name.

  Hitting call, I press the device to my ear. It rings a few times before an automated voicemail picks up. Ending the call, I immediately try again. This time the voicemail picks up after one ring.

  A nervous knot forms in the pit of my stomach. In the few days I’ve been here, Tommy has never stayed out this late. He’s usually in bed by ten and up at six a.m., like clockwork. He says his routine is something that keeps him steady.

  So then where the fuck is he?

  Thinking maybe I overlooked his car, I toss the half-eaten piece of pizza into the trash and head down the hall to his room. Shoving the door open, I flip on the light, my concern mounting when I see that his bed is empty.

  Heading back down the hall and out onto the balcony, I lean against the rail to get a better look at the cars lining the near full lot.

  Of what I can see, there’s no sign of his rusted, black Civic anywhere.

  Deciding to call him again, I have to resist the urge to chuck my phone off the balcony when his voicemail picks up instantly, telling me he likely shut the fucking thing off.

  Heading back inside, I drop my phone on the coffee table and flop down onto the couch. Running my hands through my hair, I drop my head back and look up at the ceiling.

  If this were Parkview, I’d probably already be out looking for him at all the usual spots. But I’m not familiar enough with this area to even know where to begin looking for him.

  And while a part of me is wired to think the worst, the other part is excusing away him not being home. For all I know, he could be balls deep in some chick right now which would definitely explain why he shut his phone off.

  “It’s nothing,” I mutter to myself. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I relax a little, letting my eyes fall closed.

  I went from not giving a shit about anyone or anything, including myself, to freaking out over my grown ass brother being out late.

  I really need to get a fucking grip.

  Chapter Nine

  OAKLEY

  * * *

  “Pierson, we have an ambulance inbound. I need an assist.” I stop what I’m doing at the nurse’s station and immediately stand, following Dr. Ross to the emergency room ambulance entrance.

  It’s been a slow night, and while I don’t relish the idea of anyone needing emergency medical treatment, I’m kind of glad for the distraction.

  Things have been distant between me and Lance since he got back from his weekend away, and with Jace always lingering in the back of my mind, I find myself thinking more than I want to. And when things are slow at work, it gives me more time to do just that.

  I slip on a pair of gloves and join Dr. Ross by the door.

  “What do we have?”

  “Apparent drug overdose.”

  My stomach drops. Of all the things, of course it would be drug related.

  It’s less than a minute before the ambulance pulls up to the curb, two paramedics jumping out of the back before lowering the gurney.

  “Male, 27, found in his vehicle with a needle in his arm. Unresponsive, administered two doses of Narcan on scene. Flat lined en route, but we were able to reestablish a heartbeat,” one of the paramedics rambles off, along with the vitals as he wheels the patient into the emergency room.

  It isn’t until me and Dr. Ross take over that I get my first look at the patient, and I swear the entire world seems to come to a screeching halt.

  Tommy?

  “We’re going to need some more help here,” Dr. Ross yells, the words barely penetrating through my shock as we head toward an exam room.

  As soon as we have him in a room, nurse mode kicks in and I start doing all my usual checks, hooking Tommy up to a m
onitor so we can get a better idea of what we’re dealing with. Now isn’t the time to focus on who he is. Dr. Ross evaluates him, checking his pupils and his airway before bagging him, pumping air into his failing lungs. Dr. Conner enters the room seconds later, the two working together to try to stabilize Tommy who, to my horror, goes into cardiac arrest.

  My heart is pumping a million miles a minute as we work to resuscitate him.

  He can’t die. That’s all I can think. He can’t.

  I’ve only seen one drug overdose death in my year on the ER floor. Usually by the time an overdose patient arrives, they are awake and coherent, thanks to the drug Narcan which counteracts the effects of the drug in the patient’s system. Typically. Sometimes though, depending on how long the patient goes before the Narcan is administered, and what drugs the person took, it’s already too late.

  And the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that this might be one of those cases.

  But I can’t think about that right now.

  Relieving Dr. Ross, I take over chest compressions as she prepares the defibrillator, not stopping until she calls out “clear”, pressing the paddles to his chest moments later. His entire body jerks but the monitor continues to flat line.

  “Clear,” she calls again, hitting him a second time.

  Nothing.

  “Clear.” She hits him a third time.

  “No response.” Dr. Conner backs away from the table. “He’s been without a heartbeat for nearly fifteen minutes at this point. I think it’s time to call it.”

  I want to yell no, to keep trying, but the next words spoken in the room nearly brings me to my knees.

  “Time of death, 4:46 A.M.”

  Silence falls over the room for several long seconds.

  I’m in complete shock as I watch Dr. Ross pull a white sheet over Tommy’s body and face.

  Tommy. A boy I’ve known since I was little.

  Tommy. Jace’s older brother.

  Jace…

  “Pierson.” Dr. Conner snaps me from my haze. “See if any family is present in the waiting room so they can come back and I can let them know. And if not, see what you can do about tracking down their contact information.”

  Not sure if I’d be able to form actual words if I tried, I turn and exit the room without responding, feeling like I might vomit at any moment. Tossing my gloves into the trash, I push my way through the double doors that lead out to the waiting room. The sight of Jace slumped forward in one of the chairs, his face resting in his hands, is the first thing I see.

  I don’t have time to question why he’s already here in the town I live in. How his brother ended up at my hospital of all places. The only thing I can focus on right now is putting one foot in front of the other as I make my way toward him.

  When he hears my footsteps, his head jerks up, a look of surprise and confusion tugging at his features as soon as his eyes meet mine.

  “Oakley?” He immediately stands.

  Typically it’s the doctor’s job to inform the family of a patient’s passing, but one look at my face and Jace already knows. Even after all this time, he knows me that well.

  “No.” He shakes his head.

  “I’m so sorry.” My chin quivers as the emotion I’ve been pushing away for the last several minutes comes slamming to the surface.

  “No!” he repeats.

  “We did everything we could.”

  “No.” This time the word comes out on a broken sob. Seconds later his arms are around me, his head going into the crook of my neck as his entire body shakes.

  I hold him tightly, trying like hell to keep my tears at bay.

  In all the years I’ve known Jace, I’ve never once seen him cry. Not when his mom left. Not when his dad would beat him to a pulp. Nothing. I used to think he was incapable of crying. Now I know I was wrong.

  I hear someone approaching from behind, but Jace has me wrapped so tightly that I can barely turn my head to see who it is.

  Dr. Ross’ face comes into view moments later. She gives me a look that I understand from working alongside her for the last year.

  I nod, letting her know I’ve got this under control. Her hand brushes my shoulder as she turns and walks away.

  I don’t know how long we stand like that. Me and Jace, holding onto each other like we’re the only things tethering each other to the earth, and if we let go we both will float away.

  It’s been so long since I’ve felt the warmth of his embrace. The strength of his arms around me. It’s been too long, yet it feels like no time has passed either. It’s that familiar to me. That natural. Because despite everything that has happened between us, in some ways Jace is still my home.

  I used to dream about this. Holding him again. Breathing in his scent. Feeling his heart beat in sync with mine as if there was only one heart between us.

  And while I’m devastated over the circumstances that led us to this moment, a part of me can’t help but feel grateful to get to experience this one more time.

  When he finally releases his hold on me, I have to resist the urge to pull him back in, to keep him close for as long as I possibly can.

  But knowing I can’t, I let him go. Even though it nearly kills me to do so.

  “What…what happened?” he asks. “How did this happen?” His face is pale.

  “Let’s go somewhere more private,” I offer, trying to hold myself together when the sight of him has me wanting to fall apart.

  He nods, following me to a nearby office that’s unoccupied. Stepping inside, I wait for him to enter the room before closing the door behind us.

  Jace takes one of the chairs lined along the back wall, and I slide into the one next to him.

  “He can’t really be gone,” he mutters to himself. “I thought Narcan was supposed to save him.”

  “Narcan can only do so much. Too much time had passed from when the drugs entered his system to when the Narcan was administered. We tried to revive him. I promise you, Jace, we did everything in our power to save him.”

  “This is my fault.” He looks away, not able to meet my gaze.

  “Did you stick that needle in his arm?” I ask. I might sound harsh, but he has to understand that this isn’t on him.

  “No, but I knew something was wrong. I knew it when I couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night and he wasn’t home. I should have done something. I should have gone looking for him. You know it happened in the parking lot right outside of our apartment? He must have pulled in sometime after I dozed off on the couch. Had I not fallen asleep… Had I stayed up and waited for him. If I had just gotten up and looked down, I would have seen him sitting there sooner. Maybe then it wouldn’t have been too late.”

  “Jace, listen to me. This is not on you. You did everything that was in your power. You can’t control the choices people make, and you can’t be there to prevent everything. You just can’t.”

  “Is that how you felt?” His watery gaze swings back to mine. “When you found me in the treehouse, is this what it felt like?” He balls his hands together.

  “Jace.” I shake my head.

  “I never understood what I put you through. How scared you must have been. Fuck, Oakley…”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “This is my punishment. This is what I get for everything I’ve done.”

  “This isn’t on you. Sometimes things just happen.”

  “He was clean, you know. Over a year. I move in with him and a month later he’s dead? That can’t be coincidence.”

  “People relapse. And unfortunately it’s the ones who’ve been sober the longest that have the worst outcomes. Because they don’t understand their limits.”

  “He’s dead,” he repeats like he didn’t even hear my response. “He’s dead.” It’s like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s true. Pushing to his feet, the legs of the chair scrape across the floor. “What am I going to do?” He begins to pace. “Tommy was all I had. Without him
I have no family. No place to live. I have nothing.”

  “Jace.”

  “Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to that apartment. Not after finding him like that.” He blows out a breath.

  “We’ll figure something out,” I reassure him, standing.

  “No we won’t.” His shock and devastation quickly morphs to anger. “You’re not a part of this, Oak. I refuse to drag you into this.”

  “You’re not dragging me into anything.”

  “You left.”

  “Because you didn’t give me a choice!” I fire back.

  “You left. You got away. I refuse to pull you back down into the shit show that is my life.”

  “You’re not pulling me down anywhere. No matter what has happened, no matter how much time has passed, I still care about you, Jace. And I won’t turn my back on you. Not when I can see how much you need a friend right now.”

  “A friend.” He snorts. “Is that what we are?”

  “We were friends once.”

  “Can I… I just need some time. Can you give me some time?”

  “Of course.” I nod, having to push down the need I feel to stay to give him what he needs. I turn, tugging open the door before pausing outside the room. “Please don’t leave,” I say so softly I’m not even sure he heard me before slowly pulling the door closed behind me.

  I spend the next couple of hours trying to stay busy, but I make it a point to pass by the room Jace is in several times during that time, letting out a small sigh of relief every time I peek through the small glass window and see that he’s still there.

  A few times he was pacing, once he was sitting in the chair with his face in his hands, and the last time I checked on him he was on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, his head resting on top of them.

  It’s taken everything in me not to go inside.

  It’s hard to process everything that’s happened tonight. Tommy. Jace. All of it. I’m not really all that sure that I’ve actually wrapped my head around any of it.

  After reviewing the paperwork Jace filled out when Tommy was brought in, I’d learned that the apartment where they live is just ten miles or so from my house.