Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(72)

Rolling onto his side, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping to eventually find sleep.

Unfortunately, he knew peace wasn’t yet on his mental horizon, and likely wouldn’t be for a long, long time.





Chapter Twenty-Five


“ Right?”

Doyle finally realized Pippa was talking to him. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

She smiled. “You really are rather out of sorts today, aren’t you?”

“Sorry. I’m tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I was saying that my pain levels are finally lessening. That’s good, right?”

“Oh. Absolutely.”

“To be quite frank, I thought those things you taught me in the beginning were pure bollocks. I had no idea they would work.”

“It’s only crazy if it doesn’t work.”

“Where did you learn about all of that? It’s bloody amazing.”

“I have made a lot of contacts throughout the years. Alternative and homeopathic techniques frequently help people. They aren’t a cure, but they can provide enough pain relief to help someone stay sober. Sometimes, that’s enough. Like in your case. I wasn’t sure they would work for you until we tried them.”

He didn’t need to tell her he’d learned about them in a dungeon.

He didn’t even want to think about dungeons right now. Even months later, that was still too raw and painful a subject.

“I know you’re not much of a hugger, but might you indulge me this time?”

He smiled. Pippa was a sweet person who’d had a shitty childhood. She’d overcome a lot of odds, including this.

“Sure.”

She hugged him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. And I must confess something,” she added as she stepped away.

His heart fell. “What?” The last thing he wanted to do was deal with a messy one-sided entanglement. Right now, his heart was an emotional wasteland. If it hadn’t been for how much this gig paid, he would have taken time off, alone, where he could reset and try to find his own missing center.

“Tate contacted me. A friend of yours was trying to find you. They happened to spot us together in footage at the premier for Jarah’s film in Paris and—” A knock on the door interrupted her. She smiled. “A little early, actually.”

A cold chill settled in his stomach as she walked down the suite’s hall to answer the door.

Fuck.

He heard Pippa open it, and then closed his eyes, trying to tune out the familiar voice.

Footsteps approached.

“Well, well, well. There’s my psycho Do—dingbat buddy.”

He opened his eyes to see Tilly standing there, wearing a knowing smirk. Pippa stood behind her, looking hopeful and pleased.

“Hey, Tilly.”

“Gonna give me a hug? You’re a damn difficult man to track down, you know.”

He walked over and tightly hugged her, fighting the urge to break down in her arms—which shocked him.

She seemed to sense it, tightening her grip on him, saying nothing, stroking the back of his head.

“Are…are you all right, Doyle?” Pippa asked.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Can we have a few minutes alone, please?”

“Of course. I’m so sorry, where are my manners? I’ll pop downstairs and make sure we have early dinner reservations. For three, then?”

“Yes, please,” he managed. “Thank you.”

He waited until he heard the door shut to finally let go, choking, heavy sobs he’d never before in his life cried, not even when his mom died.

“Shh, it’s okay, dude.” Tilly didn’t let him go, steered him over to the settee and sank down onto it with him, holding him. “Let it go, man. Let it out.”

“I’m a f*cking *,” he hoarsely said. “I’m a stupid idiot. I never should have fallen for him. I broke the rules and look what it got me.”

For the first time in months, he could be him.

And right now, he felt broken, destroyed inside, a sham.

In fact, perhaps Pippa had helped keep him sober even more than he’d helped keep her clean. He could be strong for her even when he knew he couldn’t be strong for himself.

“I don’t even know what happened,” she said. “No one’s telling me anything. Clark’s asking me every other damn day it seems like if I’ve heard from you, and won’t tell me why. When I said good-bye to you in Chicago, I thought everything was fine. But then I call two days later to check on you, can’t get hold of you. Your stupid voice mail’s off, FYI. Here I am, I’m calling in every goddamned favor I have with contacts all over the globe, and it’s like you ghosted. You dropped off the face of the f*cking planet, man. I was seriously considering filing a missing person report on you, but I didn’t even know where the hell to start. Mevi won’t tell me shit, either. You had me f*cking worried. What the hell happened?”

He admitted it to her.

All of it.

If he couldn’t admit it to her, a woman he’d seen at her emotional rock bottom, who could he admit it to?

She never let go of him even as he talked, stroking his hair, slowly rocking him as he choked it all out, finally.