Addison (The Mitchell/Healy Family #6)(53)

Saying goodbye to Cole was the hardest thing I’d done in my whole life. In so many ways I wanted to run back to him. I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t give up – we’d find a way, but I knew it wasn’t fair. I couldn’t offer false hope, not even to myself to ease the pain.

I drove straight to a meeting that night, prepared to remain strong. I sat there listening to peers discuss getting high, and how amazing they felt when they were using. While they spoke my mind went back to a place when nothing else mattered. I’d been staying with someone I knew. We weren’t intimate. He was gay. Anyway, we’d spend our money on enough drugs to last us the weekends and then we’d go nuts. We’d spend days upon days stoned out of our minds. While using I felt alive. When I slept it came easy. I didn’t have to fight it, or wake up from nightmares. It was peaceful back then; back when nothing mattered but my fix.

That night was the first time I’d walked out of a meeting. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to go back to that happy place and disappear. My family would never understand.

It didn’t take me long to find one of my old contacts and score some coke. It was the easiest to get for the time being. I stared down in my cup-holder at the tiny Ziploc baggie. I’d come so far only to fall back down again. This time I didn’t care about what was as stake. I didn’t want to be clean or counsel people for a new life. I needed to take the edge off. I wanted to forget about my feelings for Cole, my broken heart, the future we’d never have, and most importantly, how my father had torn us apart. I was angry, so much where I felt as if I hated my parents.

Just one night of relaxation and I’d go back to life as usual.

For a while I stared down at the white powder inside the bag. I curled and uncurled a dollar bill at least ten times, while trying to talk myself out of it. I’d put my credit card back in my wallet sleeve and then pulled it out again.

Why had I bought it? What was I thinking?

It was just a little fix. My problems would be forgotten. I could relax for once.

I knew this was wrong. It would set me back, but no one would have to know. It was one time. I would be clean by morning.

It would be a secret.

My hands were profusely shaking, because my inner conscience was fighting me. I knew this was wrong to want. In so many ways I knew it could lead to my untimely death if I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t be in control if I started up again. I’d lose everything I’d worked so hard for.

They say the lord works in mysterious ways. I’d always had faith, but I wondered how much divine intervention could be true. On this particular night, at the very moment I leaned down to do my first line, someone knocked on my window. It startled me, sending the paper tray and it’s contents tumbling onto the passenger side seat.

Feeling disturbed, I rolled down the window but hadn’t turned to look at who it could be. My first inkling, since I was in a parking lot near a gas station, was that it was someone asking for directions. His height kept me from seeing his face, but I recognized the artwork on his arms. He leaned down, took one look at me, and the items on the seat next to me. The rolled dollar, powder and credit card were obvious. I was almost afraid to hear him speak.

With tears streaming down my now guilty face, I awaited his response.

“Get the f*ck out of the car, precious.”

I clung to the steering wheel. “No.”

He raised his voice. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you. Now!”

“I have nothing to say to you, Cole. We’ve said our goodbyes. Leave it alone. Please, I can’t take seeing you. You’re the reason I’m alone. You’re the reason I can’t focus on anything else.”

He reached in, unlocked the door and pulled me out of the car. His firm body pressed against mine as he stared into my eyes. The dim lit street lights weren’t enough for him to see, so while keeping me in place he turned on the flash to his cell phone and checked my pupils. I tried to fight my way free by kicking him between the legs, but his hand caught me just as my knee came up. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m serious. Get off me.”

“I watched you, Addison. I was pumping gas and watched you buy it. You didn’t even try to hide it. Are you that desperate? How could you be so careless?”

“Don’t worry about what I do.”

“You’re reckless because of me. Of course I’m going to worry. You say we can’t be together, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

He reached in the car, rolled up the windows and grabbed my purse and keys. Before shutting it, he leaned back in and cleaned off my seat, unfolding the dollar and putting the card back in my bag. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Get your hands off my things.”

“I’m taking you home.”

I froze in place. “I’m not going anywhere with you, especially to the ranch.”

“Not your home, mine. You’re coming with me. I’m not going to let you go out and do something this reckless. You’ve just ruined two years sober. My god, what were you thinking?”

I was so angry I didn’t tell him I hadn’t done anything yet. It was embarrassing having him see me this way – the advocate of being clean – Miss perfect example, falling into the depths of abuse all over again. “I’m not going to some motel with you.”