Cassie (The Mitchell/Healy Family #7)(28)

He walked out of the room, leaving me to sulk alone.

For the longest time I laid in bed crying. I hated being so overly emotional, but it wasn’t like I didn’t have a reason. My life was falling apart. We were in danger, and I didn’t know how to protect us.

After a while Brant came back into the room. I could tell he wasn’t in the mood to argue. It was obvious he’d gotten high, which made my situation of getting clean much harder. Where he seemed relaxed, I was in excruciating discomfort.

He drove me to the hospital late on Sunday night, hoping they’d be able to give me something to manage my symptoms while the drugs worked their way out of my body.

I lay there on the hospital bed, freezing one minute and sweating the next. My teeth chattered out of fear, and I swore every single nurse who entered the room was out to make me suffer worse. Brant stayed at my side for as long as they’d allow it. A doctor came into the room to give me something that would help me sleep, and suggested Brant go home and rest. He fought with me about it, insisting he wasn’t going to leave me.

“Cassie, please. I hate seeing you like this. I need you to get better.”

“I need to get clean, Brant. Those two days were hell on me, and I’d rather do it now than wait until later, because I know I won’t want to. Don’t you want the old me back?”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss me, his eyes filled with tears. I’d never seen him so emotional, and in that moment I knew it wasn’t just because of my situation. Something was about to happen, and he wasn’t planning on telling me because he knew I’d argue with him about it. Rocky must have met with him while I was in the bedroom searching for ways to get out of there. Now I didn’t know the plan, or how soon it was going to happen.

Then my mind went to Tammy. Would she take advantage of me being away? Would she sink her paws into my man one more time? What was her role in the business, and why was Rocky okay with her screwing around with anyone she wanted?

Nothing made sense. For someone right in the middle of the clusterf*ck, I literally had no idea what was going on. I felt like ever since we’d had a threesome things had been distant between us. Brant kept trying, and I refused to care. I thought it was just the environment; having to see Tammy all the time and imagine what we’d all done together, but that night was just the tip of the iceberg.

I’d committed just about every one of the seven deadly sins. My humanity was lost.

Pride: I’d been too conceited to allow my family to dictate my future.

Greed: Stealing had become easy, because I had to have more drugs and personal gain.

Lust: I don’t even have to explain this one, because the past month had pretty much been summed up for me.

Envy and Gluttony: I wanted and wanted and wanted, even what wasn’t mine.

Sloth: Instead of striving for greatness I’d settled into a life of crime and destruction, both mental and physical. I no longer cared what toll it took on me.

Wrath: I couldn’t help from being angry, at myself and everyone around me. It was easier to put the blame on others, even when I knew I was at fault more than any of them.

Growing up in a Christian family, I’d been taught to repent for my sins. I was to a point where I didn’t know where to begin. I thought kicking the habit would be the first step of many I’d have to take, but as I remained in the hospital I wondered if it would even be worth it. If I couldn’t convince Brant to break free of his commitment to Rocky, I was afraid of what could happen. I was reluctant to call him, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice. I scrolled through my phone to find his number and prayed he wouldn’t answer.

“This is Campbell.”

“It’s Cassie Healy. I’m in the hospital. We need to talk.”





Chapter 14


Logan


I’d spent the last eight years going after the scum of the earth because I felt it was my obligation to do so. I’d lost too much in my life to give up. It was my own personal restitution to satisfy the emptiness I felt for doing nothing so long ago.

Maybe my life would have been different. Maybe I would have continued playing sports and gone somewhere with baseball. It was still a bad dream; the horror of what had transpired to take my family from me.

I hadn’t come from a broken family. We were solid, devoted to being good people. My mother was a social worker, and she’d met my father through a joint project with his construction company. Together they worked to build homes for the needy, and fallen head over heels for each other.

My sister had been the first born. She was a tough act to follow, getting good grades, and excelling at every sport she played. I did my best, finding baseball to be my escape after a ton of hard work.

Our parents were proud. They bragged to whomever would listen. We did everything together, especially during the summer months. My father, who owned his business, took off for a whole month every year. My mother saved up her time so she could be with us. We’d pick a different location each time, and spend a full thirty days there, exploring and discovering new things together.

They went to church, and worshipped even when we were away. I remember my mother’s bible versus on Sunday’s. When we traveled in our RV she’d make us sing for hours at a time. When I was little I hated it. When I became a teenager I hated her for making me do it.

Now I know why she was so adamant about instilling morals in her children. I fully understand why she wanted us to be good Christian adults.