Текст книги "Out of Play"
Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn
Соавторы: Jolene Perry
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
I smile at Becca before leaning back in the seat to watch Penny practice.
I expect to see drills or something, but they’re slamming into each other like they do in games, only they punch one another for fun when they get hit. This is some serious shit, and I like her even more for it. That she’s not afraid to be out there giving as many hits as she takes.
Though, that could really backfire when I tell her what a prick I am.
Chapter Eighteen
Penny
Damn, the boy can give a compliment. He sits four rows lower, way off to the side of Rebecca, and watches until we finish.
“So, you and the renter, huh?” Mitch throws an arm over my shoulder as we head off the ice which feels nowhere near as good as it did before Bishop came along.
“It’s Bishop, and he’s just giving me a ride home.” And hopefully more of last night when we get there.
He cocks an eyebrow. “He’s been here for a long time for someone who’s only giving you a ride.”
I raise my hands in the air with a grin. “‘Cause I’m awesome on the ice. Who wouldn’t want to see this?”
Mitch leans in. “You’re not fooling me, Pen. Just admit you like the guy.”
“I might.” I pull off my helmet to cool down.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Mitch smiles. “That he came to watch.”
“Screw off.” I grin as I push him. But yeah, it feels good. Now I get it. Why Mitch likes Rebecca here.
I give Bishop a wave before heading to the locker room to shower and change. For the first time that I can remember, I know it’ll feel good to get out of my hockey gear and back into something that makes me feel like a girl—even if it’s wearing a guy’s clothes.
…
We drive home in silence, but Bishop looks twitchy. He keeps readjusting his hat and rubbing his hands together. It’s making me a little crazy.
“You were amazing out there,” he says again.
It’s obvious he has something he wants to say. “You said that already.”
He shifts again.
“Bishop. Just spit it out. You’re making me insane over here.” I give my knuckles a little rub. After hitting Bitty, and then wearing my hockey gloves, they’re all irritated again.
He pushes out a breath of air. “So you know how you asked me who I am?”
The edges of nerves are creeping in with how weird and tense his voice sounds. “Yeah…”
“Shit.” He rubs his face. “Okay. My name’s not Ripe. It’s Bishop Riley. I’m the youngest member of Burn. I’m the drummer, and—”
I laugh. Hard. And then our eyes catch, and his are so wide and serious that it makes me laugh harder. “Shut up. I call bullshit.” That band is hot. What is he trying to pull?
He fingers his lip ring and stares.
Is he serious?
“No.” I shake my head, which is starting to feel light and floaty and strange with the possibility of who he is. “No way. I know that band.” There’s no way he’s some rock star. No way. But even as I think that, it means that a lot of things about him make sense. How he’s always hiding under that hat. The name. The drumming that’s unreal. The babysitter. Freaking Pat who got all smiley when we came in, who should have called me when he knew. Maybe that whole anxiety crowd thing is a serious problem. I thought he was going lose it after my game.
“Your iPhone in here?” he asks.
I point to the front pocket of my pack, but I’m starting to tense up like he might not be bullshitting me. Was some rock star living next to me this whole time?
Bishop pulls it out and scrolls for a minute. “Here.”
It’s the label art for Burn. All five guys. It’s black and white and a bit grainy, but holy. Shit.
“What the hell?” I mean, I knew he was keeping stuff to himself, but, “What the hell?” My heart feels like it’s beating too high up in my chest, making it hard to breathe or swallow. How did I end up sharing a hot tub and kissing some guy who’s part of a kick-ass band and not know?
“Part of me being up here is not letting on who I am. I want you to know, but I don’t want you to know, because cool people turn into weird people when they learn who I am.” He sounds so defeated. “They look at me different. Treat me different. I don’t want—”
Usually, no one knows who the drummer of a band is, but when they’re young—and hot—people notice. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I mean, maybe if I spent as much time in front of the TV or reading stupid magazines as some people I know, I would have recognized him. So, I’m freaking out. Honestly. But no way am I going to let him see that. “Wait. You think I’m not going to give you crap just because you’re some drummer in a band?” I cock a brow. “Like I won’t demand a rematch of your total fluke win on the snowmachine? Or double check all your work on my car to make sure you didn’t screw anything up?”
I laugh, but it’s a little forced because I’m sitting in the truck with a drummer from a band that I know.
“Are you actually pissed, freaking out, and trying to hide it?” He pulls off his hat and runs his hand over his hair.
“No.” Yes. Totally yes.
He sighs. I look at him and he looks nervous. Upset. Like this is a really big deal to him.
“You answered too fast. I know you hate it when people lie to you… Fuck, this is such a screwed-up situation. I didn’t expect to…” He shrugs, looking more somber than I’ve ever seen him look. “To fall for someone up here. Especially since—” He shakes his head.
Fallforsomeone. Something decidedly girly flutters in my chest. I clear my throat. “I do hate it when people lie to me. But I knew you weren’t telling me everything. It’s not like you kept that a secret. You even asked me not to dig, which is admitting something’s up. I don’t know. I guess that makes it feel different. Or at least, I want it to feel different.” I stop Bitty in my driveway. I’m trying not to think about how totally freaking out I am, because a rock star drummer—Bishop Riley—is in my car. I’m wearing his clothes. And we slept together last night.
He sighs. “There’s more, Penny.”
Nothing could be bigger than what he’s just told me, so it can wait. “Follow me.” Mom’s car is thankfully not here. “I need to hide for a while.”
Bishop follows me in silence up to my top story room. I lock the hatch behind us, hoping Mom won’t be back for a while.
I slide my arms around his waist, and enjoy feeling the warmth of him so close. I try not to do any kind of internal squealing at who he is.
His fingers slide across the back of his pants. The ones I’m wearing. “I like you in my clothes.”
I gently bite his bottom lip. “You also might like me out of them…a little.”
He moves his head when I try to kiss him. “Pen. I… Shit. I have a problem with—”
“Freaking out in large crowds.” I chuckle, even though I’m still wound up tight. It all makes sense now: his reaction at my hockey game, why he didn’t share, and why he’s here alone. “I know. You picked a good spot if you don’t like people but don’t think that gets you out of watching me play. They have pills for that stuff, and I want you at my next game.” I poke him in the chest and then stare for a moment at where my finger just was, because after last night, I want another shot at being that close to him. But now I’m wondering what happens when he leaves. When he goes back to his real life. Or maybe I need to be just thinking about now. What I want now. How I’m finally the girl a guy likes enough to be with and not just flirt with. Not just any guy, either. Bishop. The only guy who gets me.
He opens his mouth like he’s got more to say, so I smile, hoping he’ll smile. It’s strange to see him like this—so uncertain. I want to ask him more about being famous, playing the drums, his band, but I don’t want him to feel like I’m going to get weird on him over it, either. It’s obvious this is embarrassing for him. Or awkward or something, which sort of makes him sweeter. Nicer. Like he could have come up here and been an asshole and demanded something different or special because of who he is, but instead he tried to blend. Or hide. “Come?”
“‘Course I’ll come.” He sighs again and pulls in a deep breath. “That’s not the only reason I—”
I cut him off. “Later.” Or I’ll lose my nerve.
“But—”
I grab the bottom of his hoodie and pull it over my head followed quickly by the tank I slept in last night. The move leaves me in my black bra and the pants he loaned me.
His fingers trace the top of my pants, and then slide up, fingering the bottom edge of my bra sending my whole body into a frenzy of wanting his weight on me again.
Instead of collapsing into the puddle of goo my body wants me to, I hold out my hand. “So, can I have your shirt, or are you going to let me be the only one half-naked?” I ask.
“Um…” His fingers are still tracing, and his gaze hasn’t left my stomach. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about—”
“Stop. Bishop. I get it. You didn’t want to be recognized. Can we talk later? I don’t know my mom’s schedule, only that she’s not here now.” I don’t want being around him to be about apologizing for something that really is just a part of him. “This doesn’t change who you are to me. Okay? So, do I get your shirt or not?”
He groans, but slides his shirt over his head. Our bodies come together at the same time as our mouths. The heat from his skin on mine tingles its way through my body, fueling my need to be closer, to have more. His hands dig into my back as he pulls us together, and I’m matching him pressure for pressure, touch for touch, kiss for kiss, as deep as we can go. I stumble backward as he slowly leads us toward my blanket and pillow pile. No matter how much of him I feel, it’s not enough. In seconds I’m on the floor while he hovers over me, almost like I wanted.
He pauses and searches my face, and then his gaze floats over my body, looking at me so much the same as Mitch looks at Rebecca. My stomach tightens with anticipation and the feeling of being wanted. His eyes come back to mine, and something’s different. Slower. Like he wants every touch to count. Every movement to count. He teases me with his lips a few times before I wrap my arms around him and pull him down.
So this is why people say they “melt together.” I’ve always wondered. Like melting candle wax, and blending colors—the more we’re together and kissing, the less I can tell where I stop and he starts. His weight’s on me again. I want him. Seriously want him. And it has nothing to do with who he is in the world. It has to do with who he is here. The guy who dishes it out, but can take it, and doesn’t just put up with me, but seems to like it.
My hands go up and down his sides, on his back, across his shoulders, in his hair, and I’m running out of places to touch that won’t lead me way into new territory.
He rolls onto his side bringing me with him, and I sit up gasping for air. I’m afraid, but not afraid. Mostly, I don’t feel in control of what my body wants, and that’s a first for me.
“Your tattoo. I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t—”
“My tattoo’s fine. I just want to look at you.”
I sit on my knees and gently push on his chest. It takes him a while to relax enough lay down on his back the way I want him. “So weird. You don’t act like a famous guy.”
“I’m just me.”
I keep staring at his bare chest and abs and arms, loving the newness of it all and amazed that I’m not more nervous or afraid. It’s that I believe he wants to be here. Wants to see me, touch me, and have me do all those same things to him. My body warms up again, but it’s not from the need to feel him closer like it was before. It’s the closeness and the trust and the way I’m falling for a guy I’m still discovering.
He pulls in a long breath. “This takes a serious amount of trust.”
“Chicken?” I tease.
“Afraid of you,” he teases back.
“Close your eyes.” My heartbeat’s flooding my ears, and my breathing still isn’t normal.
I sit next to where he lies on the floor and wait. And wait. I don’t blink, don’t move, just stare into the dark eyes that pull me in, hoping he’ll cave.
“Fuck,” he whispers but does it. He closes his eyes, but his body’s still tense.
I want to take in everything about him. I run my fingers across his forehead and down the sides of his face. I touch his cheekbones, and smooth my finger over his lips and lip ring. Instead of tensing up, he relaxes. The few pictures I’ve seen of him in magazines sort of float through my head, but they feel disconnected from the guy lying in front of me. Like that guy is one person, and this Bishop is someone else entirely. I start to think about the girl who came up here, and how many other girls there might have been, but I start to feel edgy and self-conscious, so I concentrate again on what’s happening now. What I know about him. Who he is to me.
My thigh is pressed against his side, and I move my fingers down his neck and across his collarbone. And even though I don’t want it to, it hits me again—this is Bishop Riley. I’m touching Bishop Riley. The guy who lets me be real, and likes me anyway. The guy who risked Mom’s wrath this morning, and thought to get my cream and clothes for school today.
I run each hand down his muscular arms and trace all the veins and contours—there are a lot. A very nice side effect of playing the drums. His palms are smooth, and he clasps my hand the moment our fingers touch. He opens his eyes and pulls his arms out to the side, which brings me close. We kiss once before I pull away.
“Not yet.” I smile. “I’m not done.”
“I might be insane by the time you finish.” The need in his eyes should scare me, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel more like I made a really good decision in coming here.
“I’m okay with that.” I sit back and run my hands over his chest, under the line where his pecs are cut and then down his toned stomach. My fingertips slide underneath the top of his boxers, and I run them back and forth at the edge of the waistband, which just shows above his jeans. I could sit here and touch him like this for hours.
“Yeah, definitely going insane.” He sits up and pulls us together, while avoiding touching my tattoo. The heat from him almost gives my body what it needs to take over again, and he brushes his lips against mine. When I don’t protest, his kiss is slow and deep, once again making me feel like he’s exploring every part of me. “Time for you to relinquish control for a minute.” His lips touch mine as he speaks.
My heart starts hammering at the thought. “I—” I was going to say I don’t think so, but the way he’s looking at me… I let him take my hands with his and guide me to lying down next to him. Close. Touching. I can’t take in a deep breath with his bare chest against me, but I love it. Love that he does this to me, to my body. Love that he wants to be here. Wants to have this effect on me.
Our eyes lock in the dim light. “You’re beautiful, Penny.”
All I can do is smile because, for the first time, I feel beautiful.
Bishop hovers, holding my hands over my head, pinning me down. How far does he want to go? My muscles begin to tense as I wonder if I can do that. If I’m ready.
“I don’t think I can go all the—”
“We’re not going there.” He kisses me softly. “I won’t rush you.”
I’m feeling too much at once, so teasing feels safer. “You know I could push you off, right?” I press up with my arms so he can feel how strong I am.
“I know.” His face is still soft. “But don’t.”
Okay. Trust. Like he said. I can do this. I relax my arms, every nerve in my body aware that Bishop Riley is hovering over my half naked body, and I’ve just given up control.
I let my eyes close as his lips touch my collarbone.
This is a whole lot of firsts for Penny Jones.
Chapter Nineteen
Bishop
“This car is going to be the death of me!” Gramps wipes the sweat off his forehead, leaving a big trail of dirt behind. Quickly, I disregard the urge to tell him in case I need a joke later.
I slip my hand in and tighten one of the bolts he just screwed in. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up, old man. You can’t take it? I thought you were better than that.” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for whatever smart-aleck remark he has.
“And I thought you knew better than to try and play me, Rookie. I may be old, but all that means is I’m better. Had a whole hell-of-a lot more time to hone my skills than you. Here, let me get a tissue and wipe your nose for you.”
He moves his hand toward my face, but I playfully push it away. A laugh rumbles from deep in my stomach and spills free. Gramps is so cool. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known, but there’s no way I’m telling him that. “Maybe you should sit down. I don’t want you to get tired on me. Where’s your walker?”
Gramps grabs for me, and I let him put me in a headlock. “You little punk! I don’t have a walker!”
He’s actually giving me a noogie (who can say they’ve been given a noogie from an old guy?), when a door slams. “Gramps, stop beating up Bishop.” I look up to see Penny standing there with her arms crossed. “Seriously? You can’t take him?”
I pull out of Gramps’s grip. “I was letting him win. I thought you might get a little pissed if I injured your grandpa.”
Gramps clears his throat. “No one was letting me do anything. Kids these days. No respect.” He’s trying to hide his smile as he backs up, but then his look gets serious. “Five minutes.” He grumbles before walking inside.
“I thought he’d never leave.” I back Penny up, my hands on her waist until I’m sandwiching her between me and her Corvette.
“I don’t have five minutes. I have to go,” she says as my lips trail up her neck. I love the way she tastes. The way she smells. The way she feels. I still can’t believe I’m here with her.
“Four?” I nip her ear.
“Six, but that’s my final offer.”
I laugh against her skin. I’m not sure I’ve laughed this much in my whole life. Actually, that’s a lie. Mom and I had problems, but we were happy when I was growing up. I was happy. Gary asked me once when the last time things were easy for me. It couldn’t have been way back then. I mean, I’ve had hard times off and on like everyone, but I think I’ve been happy. I used to like riding my motorcycle and used to meet with my friend Ryan a lot, but those things are few and far between. When I’m high, I laugh a whole lot, but that’s not the same. Not nearly the same.
Penny turns her head so our lips connect, and I kiss her.
Now totally isn’t the time to think about those things.
My hand slides under her hoodie. Her hands thread through my hair, and I kiss her deeper. Needing more…always more when it comes to her. But I also don’t want to push her too far, too quick.
“I like your hair. I hate that stupid hat you wear.” She whispers the words against my lips.
“Me too.”
“And your lip ring.” She pretends to nip at it. “Totally hot.”
I groan, wishing we had a whole lot more than six minutes. It’s crazy how wild this girl makes me. How much different I feel when I’m with her—not just her, either, but at all lately. Working on the car, snowmachining. All of it.
Guilt tries to push its way back in, but I shove it away.
“You’re really Bishop Riley?” It’s different how she says it. I don’t feel like she’s a fan, trying to get a piece of me. It’s just curiosity, surprise, and it makes that guilt squeeze in again. I give her a nod, and she shakes her head with a smile. “So weird.”
“Not weird.” I kiss her again. And it’s not because when I’m with her I feel like only the good parts of me show.
“What are you doing today?” She squeezes me tighter.
“Your friends are picking me up in a few hours. I think they want to take me to the mountains and hide the body.” Pulling away enough so we can see each other, I wink, my hands still on her waist. “Good thing I can take them.”
“Ugh! Don’t remind me. I’m pissed I can’t go. My mom is seriously making me crazy. So damn hypocritical.”
There’s a way to bring the guilt back. Not only are Penny and her mom still fighting—partly because of me—but I’m still lying to her. “Maybe she hired Mitch and Chomps to try and take me out. I bet that’s what this is about. Murder for hire. Drummer from Burn killed in the Alaskan mountains by his girlfriend’s admirers, on order of her Mom.”
Her grip tightens on me, and I can’t help but lean forward and kiss her again.
“I thought you could take them.”
“I can, but then you’d be pissed at me for beating up Lover Boy.”
“Ugh!” She pushes me away. “Stop calling him that.”
Gramps comes back into the garage at the same time. Five minutes are up already?
“Break it up, you two. I’m already public enemy number one with your mom, Penny.”
I’m still in shock she hasn’t kicked us out. That I’m even here right now.
Penny steps around me. “Don’t get me started on her.”
Isn’t this awesome? I’m causing all sorts of family drama. I start breathing a little faster. My hands tremble. “Don’t be mad at your mom about me, okay?”
She just rolls her eyes and kisses me quickly. “I gotta go.”
I want to pull her closer. Let her kiss linger and touch her everywhere, but I don’t. “Later,” I tell her and try to walk away, but I feel her lips against my ear.
“I know it might not be huge to you, but the way you just talked about being in the band? Like it was natural and you didn’t mind that I know? It means something to me. Thanks for being honest.”
Sharp, stabbing pain pierces my chest. Not by her, though, because this one? This is all me. My hand holding the knife. Bishop Riley strikes again.
Gramps and I are quiet for the next hour while we keep working on the car. We can’t figure out why she’s giving us so much trouble, and it’s adding to my already shitty mood. If I could just get the Corvette running, maybe I’d start to deserve Penny.
My heart’s been beating way too fast since she left. I definitely could use one of my anxiety meds, but I can’t make myself go to Gary. Not anymore. I’m going to stop all of it. I already feel like a sorry excuse for a man because—well, because I guess I am one, and that just makes it worse.
Without a word, Gramps tosses his tool down and goes to sit in a chair. We’ve been working together enough that he knows my moods. When I don’t feel like talking, Gramps doesn’t talk. When I need to laugh, he gives me shit. And I’m pretty sure he’s the one who talked Penny’s mom down the other day because so far, she hasn’t kicked us out. The woman definitely wants me out of here. She gives me the evil eye every time I see her.
“I’m going sledding with Mitch, Matt, and Chomps in a bit. I think they want test me or something.” I shrug. “Make sure I’m good enough for Penny or whatever.” It doesn’t even surprise me that I tell him. Gramps is cool like that. He has a way of getting stuff out of people and making it feel okay. Kind of like Gary lately.
Gramps chuckles, leaning back in the chair. He crosses his arms. “Eh, they’re pretty good kids. Been around forever. They’re good to Penny except Mitch has hurt her. Didn’t mean to, but it still makes me want to slit his tires.”
I hold out my fist and Gramps bumps it, just like one of the guys in my band would.
“I like Mitch, but he’s not the one for Pen. She didn’t love him. Just thought she did. He was there for her when we lost my son. And again when people gave her a hard time for playing on the boys’ hockey team.”
Jealousy creeps up inside me. “Yeah, but he also chose some other chick over her.”
Gramps rolls his eyes. “Like I said, they’re not a match, those two. Which is okay. Nothing wrong with that.”
More silence. My leg is bouncing a little, but I’m actually feeling calmer than I was before.
“You really like her, don’t you, son?”
His words make it hard to look at him. Because I do really like her, but I also know I shouldn’t. I feel Gramps’s eyes on me and know it’s time to step up. “Yeah. She’s awesome. I don’t deserve her, though. She doesn’t know everything. No one here knows everything about me.”
Bounce, bounce, bounce. With my eyes, I case the place like I’m planning on robbing it or something.
“Then why don’t you tell me?” Gramps’s voice is softer than usual.
Can I do this? Can I open my mouth and say the words? It’s so fucking hard to admit what’s in my head. It’s different, knowing something and admitting it. Knowing is personal. It’s easy to lie to yourself. Or fool yourself. Admitting it? That’s owning it. Making it real. It takes balls to own it. I’m not really an addict. I didn’t almost die back home or get lost in Tokyo if I don’t actually open my mouth and spit out the words.
I try the deep breathing thing I learned again. I feel like such a coward, and I’m tired of it. And I think if I could tell anyone, it would be Gramps. Looking at him, I realize he’s probably the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had. That I ever will have.
“I kind of…have a problem with pills?”
“You—”
“No. I do. Not kind of.” I scratch my head. My arm. Touch my lip ring. Bounce my leg. None of it makes me forget what I’m doing. The stalling makes it worse. “I started right after I got signed. The crowds, they kind of freak me out. It’s like they’re trying to get inside me, so I’d take something to chill me out. Then, I’d get tired and need to stay awake, so I’d take a pill for that. Then I’d need help sleeping, which would call for another one. It feels good, ya know? Like I’m flying or…I don’t know… Light? It started to get fun. I started taking different kinds. Do you know how easy pills are to come by?”
For the first time since I started this confession, I look at Gramps. “I wanted to steal some from you.”
His eyes are crinkled at the sides. He gives me a quick nod. “But you didn’t, did you?”
“No. Not from you. I snuck some here with me, though. Took ‘em all. Took more when my friend, Maryanne, came, and I have twelve sitting in the cabin, waiting for me.”
It’s almost like my words drift out but float back inside me. Whispering in my head to make sure it sinks in. I am an addict. Right now, my mouth feels dry. My heart is going wild again because I do have pills waiting for me. I could take them tonight. Or not all of them, but a few. Like for my last time, or whatever. Take some, dump the rest and then I’ll be done.
No!
“You wanna know what happened for me to come here?” A part of me actually thinks I want to tell him. Maybe it’s a warm-up because I know I have to tell Penny.
“I do.” Gramps’s voice is even softer.
More breaths. More bounces. More words. “My band had a show, and I was freaking out at it like I always do. The crowds…they get in my head. And then after, paparazzi were chasing me. When I got to Maryanne’s, I just wanted to forget, you know? I just needed to forget, so Maryanne gave me a bunch of stuff…” In, out, in, out. “I don’t even know what all I took. That’s bad. Has to be bad, right?” Gramps doesn’t answer, but then I don’t need him too. “Alcohol, too. I’m not usually much of a drinker, but, yeah. I was feeling it that night.”
I bite my thumbnail. “The room we were in was pretty quiet, but it all felt loud in my head. There was dancing, I think? Yeah, Maryanne was dancing and laughing.” Flashes of that night pummel me. Drinking, spinning, dancing, laughing, falling… I haven’t let myself think about it at all. “It’s almost like I knew something was wrong. That I was way too messed up. My body felt it, like it was screaming and fighting against itself or something, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”
My cheeks are wet. Holy shit. I’m crying.
“It was like a fade to black, in and out. Part of me wanted to laugh with her, I think, because I stumbled and couldn’t get up, and I knew that should be funny but not funny at the same time.” I’m talking faster now, needing to get it out. It’s like poison inside me, festering, and the only way to get rid of it is to hurry up and get the words out.
“Maryanne fell next to me. I think we were on the floor of her room. I can’t even fucking remember, but I know my body needed to get it out. I wasn’t conscious, but I was. Like my brain was on, but the rest of me wasn’t. I knew Maryanne was rolling me over…hitting me on the back. And…that’s all. Next thing I knew, I was at the hospital. I almost aspirated.” I shake my head. “They had to pump my stomach. My mom… God, I think I broke her. She’s been through so much with my dad, and then I broke her, too.”
I wipe my eyes, wishing I could bring myself to look at Gramps.
My leg still bounces.
In. Out. In. Out. I try to focus on my breathing.
“Mom and my manager made me come here. I haven’t done anything I’m not supposed to since Maryanne left. It’s like I fucking hate it. Hate the pills in my bag, but I love them, too. I want to trash them, but I can’t make myself do it.” When I finally look at Gramps, his eyes are wet. “Does that count for anything? I mean, I know I’m still screwed-up, but the fact that I don’t want to be that way anymore? Does that matter?”
Gramps’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and he squeezes. “It matters, son. It matters.”
I let his words sink in. Hear how he calls me son. That matters, too.
I let out a deep, shaky breath. “How do I tell her? I need to tell her.” My voice actually cracks.
“The same way you told me. You can do it, son. I’m damn proud of you right now.”
It feels good and bad at the same time. It feels so good for her to tell me he’s proud, but I don’t feel like I’ve done anything yet. This isn’t enough to be my “one thing” Gary was talking about. “But they forced me to come here. I didn’t do it on my own. And I haven’t been completely clean.”
“One step at a time. Can I have them? The pills in your bag?”
No!
In. Out. In. Out.
“Can you take them while I’m gone? My suitcase is in the closet. There’s a slit cut in the back. They’re in there.”
Gramps nods. “One step at a time.”
I can do that, I think. Some of the weight on me falls off my shoulders. “I’m going to tell her tomorrow after the game. I want to…” I clear my throat. “I don’t know…maybe that’s my first step to deserving her. And…rehab. I’m going to talk to Gary about rehab.” They’re my words, but I struggle to believe I said them. Two months ago, I never would have imagined this, but I need it. Need it for me, so I can take care of Mom and for everyone else who is important in my life. “I don’t want to be a screw up anymore… It’s time I was better. Try and be happy like Gary says.”
Gramps puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing good, son. We’ll get through this together. I’ll be there every step of the way.”
