I shake my head and walk out onto the back porch. Shannon is humming a country tune as she dumps the clothes into the front loader and turns it on. I watch as she carefully spins the chair around and wheels over to the upturned table. The wheel bumps into it and I hurry to help her. “Let me,” I offer, picking the table up effortlessly and standing it upright. She beams at me, and it’s like a ray of fucking sunshine straight to my heart.
“Thank you,” she says as she straightens the books and magazines. “Why don’t you head in and put some coffee on? I’ll be along in a minute.”
“Okay,” I reply slowly, my brow creasing as I turn around and walk back inside.
I’m not really sure how I feel about Shannon cleaning my house. I’m embarrassed; she must think I’m such a pig. The house looks and smells amazing, though. I really should thank her. I plug the coffee maker in and turn it on, opening the fridge to grab myself my usual breakfast beer. My hand reaches in blindly and I freeze, slowly turning my head toward the open fridge.
There’s no beer.
My breathing becomes shallow and I start to hyperventilate. Stomach churning, I have to lean over the table to stop from throwing up. My hands are clammy and shaking as I turn back to the fridge, moving things around, desperately searching for just one bottle. I pull various foods out, one by one, and still come up empty-handed.
“I guess you noticed, huh?” Shannon says in a quiet voice behind me.
I turn slowly to face her, my harsh breathing loud in the quiet room. “What did you do?” I ask in a low voice, anger coursing through me when she just sits there, looking at me. I stomp over to her, leaning forward as I grab the arms of the wheelchair, pushing my face into hers. She flinches and recoils, but there’s nowhere for her to escape. “What. The fuck. Did you do?” I speak slowly, emphasizing each word as I grit my teeth.
She pales, but juts out her chin bravely and meets my eyes with a steely determination. “I got rid of it,” she barks.
“You got rid of it,” I repeat hollowly. “I see that. Where is it?”
“I poured it down the sink.”
No no no no no! I scream in my head. Shoving away from the wheelchair I rake a hand over my head. I can’t look at her, can’t speak to her. Doesn’t she fucking know I need my beer?
A roar of fury rips from my chest and I sweep my arm across the counter, knocking the coffee maker to the ground and spilling boiling water all over myself. Shannon screams and pushes the wheelchair back, but I still can’t look at her. I can’t breathe, and my chest is tight, like it’s about to cave in. I gasp for air as I lean over, my palms flat on the table.
“Stone,” she says in a quiet voice. I raise my eyes to her. Her eyes are wide and terrified; she’s clearly scared of what I might do. Doesn’t she know I’d never hurt her? I can’t comfort her, though. Not now. “I need to get the fuck out of here,” I mutter, pushing away from the table and searching for my keys. They’re not in their usual spot; where the fuck are they?
“You can’t leave,” Shannon tells me, following me into the living room. I don’t look at her as I toss the cushions off the couch and shove my hand down the back of it. I feel an assortment of dust and a few loose coins, but no keys.
“Why not?” I ask, still not looking at her.
“Because Keets has your keys.”
I freeze as what she said sinks in. I risk a glance at her, half-expecting to see her holding the keys up with a grin. She’s serious.
I feel like my world is crumbling around my feet. “Why does Keets have my keys?”
“He came over this morning and picked them up.”
“He came over this morning and picked them up,” I mirror, emotionless. “Can I ask why you’re doing this?”
“I just wanted to help,” she says in a quiet voice.
It’s my undoing. “Who the fuck asked you for help, Shannon?” I explode. “Huh? It sure as shit wasn’t me.”
“Stone, I—”
“No, I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupt her. “What gives you the right to come into my house and fuck everything up?”
“Fuck everything up?” she says in disbelief. “Fuck what up, Stone? You’re a middle-aged pig who lives in his own filth and cares more about his next beer than he does about his own son.” She’s yelling now. “Have you even thought about Zeke? Just once?”
“Of course I have!” I shout back. “I’ve done nothing but think of him since he came into my life.”
“I can tell,” Shannon says sarcastically.
“What would you know?” I ask. “You’re young, you’re fucking gorgeous and you’ve got the devotion of everyone you meet. You don’t have to deal with any kind of shit like this.”
“Seriously?” She gives a short bark of laughter. “Ethan Stone, you need a serious reality check. I lost my dad last year, my ex-boyfriend beat on me, and I’ve got creditors hanging around Saddles trying to buy it out from under me. You think I have a great life? Think again, buster.”
I stare at her. “Someone’s trying to buy Saddles?”
She sighs and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah,” she admits quietly. “Daddy borrowed a lot of money from the wrong people. I have just over two weeks to sell the bar, or who knows what they’ll do to me?”
I curse and drop to my knees in front of the wheelchair. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
She shakes her head, a small smile crossing her pinched face. “It’s my problem,” she says.
“No one can do this alone,” I tell her, touching her hand gently.
“You should take your own advice.”
I can’t help the grin that splits my face. “You’re right,” I agree, standing back up. “I have a problem; I know it, and you know it. But what do you want me to do about it?”
“Have you considered getting help?”
“You mean a shrink?” I ask.
She nods.
“I don’t know,” I say, collapsing onto one of the single armchairs. “I mean, I guess I always thought I was too messed-up to change.”
“It’s never too late to change,” she states with a smile. “Your son needs you, Stone. You need to do this for him.”
I stare at her for a few minutes, contemplating everything she’s said. Her sanity seems to make it through my madness. Is she right? Is there still hope for me? I would do anything to rid myself of the voices that plague my thoughts, the nightmares that keep me awake. What could it hurt?
“Okay.” I nod slowly, watching the relief flood her face. “I’ll give it a go.”
One year ago…
I glance around the small apartment I’ve shared with Troy for the past few years. It’s funny, there are things of mine everywhere … but it’s never really felt like home.
I wander into the bedroom and close the door behind me. I can’t help the slight shiver that runs through my body as I stare at the large bed that was once home to beautiful memories. Now, all I see is pain¸ heartbreak … and fear. I sit on the edge of the bed and play with the edge of the blanket. Can I really do this? Can I just pack up and leave?
I jump when the front door slams, and I take slow, deep breaths as I stand up and look at the suitcase beside the bedroom door. It’s time.