Pulled Within (22 page)

“You ready?” he asked as I got out of my car and gave him a
quick hug.

“Yeah, one second. I just want to say hello to Hart.”

He stuck one foot inside his truck. “He’s not here.”

My heart skipped when I heard that. “Where did he go?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “A car pulled up here a few minutes ago
and he hopped in. Not sure where they were going.”

They
?

I smiled and walked to my car. It was the most artificial grin; I
was sure he knew that. “Then let’s go.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. He climbed all the way into his
truck.

We both pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road. I let
him lead the way—not because I didn’t know how to get to Acadia;
everyone in this town knew where the rehab center was. It was
because I didn’t want to really pay attention. Something felt off about Hart, in light of what Shane had just told me.

I didn’t like it at all.

SHANE AND I
sat a table in the rec room waiting for Brady to come out. The woman at the front desk where we’d signed in and had been patted down told us he was almost finished with his morning therapy session and would join us as soon as it was over.

Shane’s nerves showed. He traced the grooves that had been dug
into the table with his thumbnail, over and over again. I was
nervous,
too. The last time I’d seen my best friend, his whole face had been
swollen, bruised, bloodied. When he hadn’t been throwing up, he’d been screaming out in pain.

Sober Brady had a distinctly different look, of course. His skin
had a youthful shine, his eyes were clear, almost radiant, and his laugh was carefree. He was sunshine. Sometimes, his demon would remain quiet for several months, allowing his light to linger. But inevitably, it rose and dragged him back down again.

Maybe that was because he’d never gotten help before.

I knew Shane was feeling the same thing, this blend of happiness
and heartbreak. I saw the worry on his face, the fear that Brady
would leave rehab before he was ready, or start using as soon as he got out. There was plenty of hope now, for both of us. But I didn’t know if
the underlying fear would ever go away, or if I would ever be
completely certain that he wouldn’t turn to drugs when the demons nipped at his heels again.

I wondered that for myself, too.

Would I ever not turn to weed to dull the pain of my own scars? Would I ever be able to keep my food down in the days that led to December seventeenth? Would I ever leave the nightmares behind?

“Brady,” I whispered as my eyes drifted toward the doorway.

It was loud enough for Shane to hear. He lifted his head and
glanced
in the same direction. Then he looked back at me, and a thought
passed between us. I’d seen Shane and Brady do something similar so many times before, and now I understood what it meant, what it felt like.

Without speaking, we knew we were in complete agreement.

“Hey,” Brady said quietly. There was still a bit of bruising under
his eye, and the stitches he’d gotten above his brow hadn’t yet
dissolved.
The cuts around his lips were still healing. Regardless, it was
impossible to miss the certainty in his movement, and the clarity in his eyes.

His mouth broke into a smile.

“Brady…” I said aloud.

Shane pushed his chair back and rushed to greet him, throwing his arms around his son’s neck. He kissed the top of his head as Brady folded into his chest.

I’d seen them hug each other affectionately so many times. This
was something entirely different. This was two people being
reunited
after spending years apart. This was a love so deep, so genuine, I
knew I wouldn’t feel anything like it until I had children of my own. It was overwhelming to see them together again.

They finally parted. Shane wiped the corners of his eyes and
walked back to his chair.

“What?” Brady said, his arms open, the smile still on his face. “No hug for the asshole in rehab?”

I hurried over and curled into his chest, letting him take most of my weight. His chin rested on the top of my head. His hands ran a trail along my back, up to my neck and down to the middle of my spine.

“I missed you so much.” My fingers clung to his shoulders; I didn’t even try to stop my nails from digging into his skin.

I wanted him to stay like this forever.

“I missed you, too.” His breath was clean and minty
—
no
alcohol.
His shirt smelled like fabric softener instead of smoke. He wasn’t
sniffing or wiping his nose.

He was clean.

I squeezed harder. “You look so good.”

“You look tired…and way too fucking skinny.”

I laughed at his honesty
—
another thing I missed. Besides Shane,
Brady was the only person who could say something like that
without
offending me. I knew it came from a place of concern. He’d more
than earned the right to call me on my shit. “I’ve been eating. A little.”

“I know it’s hard for you to keep it down, but Rae, you’ve got to
try to eat more.” He pressed his cheek against the side of my
forehead. “Just twenty-two more days.”

I couldn’t stop the knot from lodging into my throat.

Even in rehab, he’d remembered my countdown.

“I know,” I whispered. “I’m almost there.” I gently pulled out of his arms, clasped onto his hand and brought him over to the table.

“You’re looking so much healthier, son,” Shane said once we both took a seat. “How do you feel?”

Brady didn’t take his eyes off me. I knew he had questions
—
I
could see them. He wanted to know everything he’d missed since he had been gone, how bad I was feeling, if my mom had been in touch. But Shane and I weren’t here to talk about me. This visit was all about him.

“We’ll catch up later,” I promised him. “Tell us how you’re doing.”

He nodded, his pale blue stare finally shifting to his dad. “I’m
good…
very
good, actually. I’m starting to sort shit out, you know,
with my counselors. They’re helping me find my triggers and teaching me about what I’ll have to change when I get out of here.”

Brady’s childhood had been nothing like mine, but he
understood what it felt like to be raised by a single parent and to have the other
want nothing to do with him. His mom had re-married when we
were
in middle school; Brady had never gotten along with her new
husband. He was loud and physically abusive, and he and Shane had gotten into it more than a few times over how he was treating Brady. When
Brady’s mom got pregnant, her husband didn’t want him around
anymore. It was ugly.

It was also the beginning of his storm.

“Everything is all ready for when you come home,” Shane said. “Got your things all set up in your old room, and the rest of your stuff is in my garage. It’ll be like old times for us.”

I wished Shane hadn’t brought that up. The second he’d
mentioned it, I knew Brady was going to have a strong reaction. I also knew it would lead him to worry about my living situation.

The lines in Brady’s forehead deepened. He looked at me
intently, waiting for an explanation. I didn’t say anything. He then looked at his dad. “What happened to my apartment?”

I would never lie to him. Rehab or not, he deserved the truth. “I
lost your apartment, Brady. I couldn’t afford it so the landlord
evicted us…or me. I’m sorry.” I wished I hadn’t needed to admit how much I’d failed.

He shook his head. “You didn’t lose anything. It’s my fault for not paying and for leaving it all for you to handle.” His hand rested
on top of mine. There were still a few cuts on his knuckles, but his
nails
were now short and clean, and the calluses under his fingers had
softened
a little. “I hope it means you’re living with my dad…that’s where
you are, right?”

Shane crossed his arms over the table. His thumb went back to
tracing the grooves.

He realized his mistake, and everything that would follow now.

“I stayed with Caleb and Jeremy for a little bit,” I said.

“
A little bit
?” I knew that tone. He was worried; he had every
reason to be. “So you’re not there anymore?”

I shook my head.

“What made you leave?”

I definitely wasn’t getting into any of that now. Once Brady was
out of rehab and able to keep his anger in check, I’d tell him
everything that had happened at that house. But I couldn’t take the chance of
jeopardizing his stay there or his progress just to tell him about
Gary, the peeping fuck.

“I’m staying at Hart’s house now. He’s back.” It came out before I could consider what those words would mean to him.

“Hart?” He glanced at his dad, whose eyes were still pointed at the table, then back at me. “Hart Booker?”

We didn’t know any other Hart. ”Yes.”

“You’re
living
with
Hart Booker?
”

I couldn’t fault him for his reaction. It was a name I hadn’t
thought I’d ever say again, either.

“I’m
staying
with him.” I decided not to bring up that Hart was
also Shane’s boss, and it didn’t seem like Shane was going to
volunteer
that information. It felt like this was all too much for him. Brady
didn’t like anyone who’d hurt me, and Hart had been on that list for quite some time. “Would you rather me stay at Caleb’s?” I hadn’t meant for so much attitude to rush out of me, but Hart had stormed out of the house when Brady’s name had come up, and now Brady didn’t look pleased that I was at Hart’s.

Didn’t anyone care about what
I
wanted?

“No, I’d rather you be at my dad’s.” He leaned back in his chair
and fiddled with the bottom of his T-shirt. “I’m surprised he’s back, and that you’d even let him talk to you after everything that went down between you two.” I could feel his questions starting to mount. He was wondering if we were
together
, if my feelings for him
were similar to
the ones I’d had for Saint. What was developing between me and Hart was completely different from anything I’d had before—especially with Saint. There was no way Brady would know that,
and this wasn’t the
right time to tell him. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not at
Caleb’s,” he said. He didn’t look at me when he spoke, which told me he wasn’t happy I was at Hart’s.

Shane looked up from the table as soon as Brady paused. “Son, give us more details about the things you’re discussing with your counselors. What are they teaching you?”

I silently thanked Shane for changing the topic. The attention should never have been on me. Brady needed to focus on himself and on staying clean.

I watched the way his mouth moved as he answered Shane’s
questions. How his pupils grew after each blink and stayed larger
than
the pinpoints I was used to staring at. The opiates he had always
taken
had kept them that way, and had given him his raw and often
bloody
nose, and his heavy lids, and his busy hands that were usually
scratching
some part of his body. His fingers didn’t jitter now. They’d released the end of his shirt and rested on the table. They were crossed and
relaxed.

Brady was back, and it sounded like he was finding himself within these walls. He told us about his daily schedule and how things had been since he’d checked in, how he was trying to find
new habits to replace the old ones. He discussed the staff, the counselors he clicked with and the aids who were in recovery themselves. He was really learning how to cope and master the tools he would need to finally change his life and stay clean.

I envied him.

I envied that he was able to admit when he had reached rock
bottom, and that he’d been able to ask for help. That he had finally faced his darkness and had stayed in rehab for this long already. He was conquering his demons with courage.

My demon was a man who haunted my dreams, my past. There was no way in hell I would ever submit to that sick bastard.

But how could I ever conquer him?

And what would it take for me to finally ask for help if I couldn’t do it on my own?

Help wouldn’t heal the scar on my face or what it represented,
or the loss I felt because of it. It wouldn’t erase the memories. It
wouldn’t heal me. It wasn’t as if Hart could do that for me, either. And my brother certainly couldn’t.

The only one who could do it was me.

“Brady,” a man said from the doorway. “Lunch in three.”

Brady sighed, one of his hands touching his dad’s shoulder and
the other resting on top of mine. “I’ve got to go. If we’re late to
anything, we get toilet duty and an even earlier bedtime.”

Shane stood from the table and pulled Brady in for a hug. “I understand, son. Happy we got to see you for as long as we did.
Keep doing good, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Dad.”

“Got lots of things to tell you
—
good
things
—
but they’ll have to wait until you’re healthy. Don’t you worry about what’s going on out there; Rae and I are handling that.”

Brady finally pulled away from Shane, and he reached for me. I tucked myself into his chest again and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I loved his new smell. It reminded me of the earth after a heavy rain. “I’m so damn proud of you, Brady.”