You'd Be Mine(63)

Do I even want to be Clay Coolidge anymore?

I know, in my gut, I don’t. The truth threatens to drag me under. I don’t want to be Clay Coolidge. I don’t even want to be Jefferson Coolidge. As far as I can tell, he’s barely a step above. Nothing about who I’ve been interests me. I’ve completely lost my way. I’ve become expendable. Worthless.

I imagine thousands of tiny tethers latched to my skin, tugging and weighing me down. Individually, they are nearly harmless, but as one, they pull me under.

I let go. I allow them to sink me. The water rushes over my head, and I close my eyes against the light filtering above me. Coolness washes over my skin, releasing the tethers. I stop struggling, and my face lifts, breaking the surface. I spread my arms wide and release my limbs. Invisible hands seem to support me on the top of the water. I open my eyes to a brilliant existence. Rich colors, musical sounds, sweet-smelling breezes wafting, caressing my skin.

An unfamiliar smile breaks across my face. Stretching the muscles in my cheeks and exposing my teeth. A laugh erupts from deep inside of me, and all at once, I can’t stop. I have to stand up, tears streaming as I lose control in the wonder of it all.

I’m not Clay striving to be Jefferson anymore.

I’m someone new.





25



Clay


I fly home the next morning, early, before the sun is even up. I leave a note on the dining room table thanking Annie’s grandparents for their hospitality and letting the rest of Willows and Fitz know I’ll catch up with them at the next stop.

My lonely inheritance is calling me home. Time to face the music. Literally.

Sobriety takes some getting used to. It’s not so much that my body needs the liquor as the rest of me does. The world is too sharp without the booze buffer. The airport is noisy and bright. The plane is cold. Indiana is terrifying, and I’m not ready for it.

It takes me another hour before I’m pulling down my dirt drive, and I curse as I see Fitz’s truck out front in my spot.

Son of a bitch, the man has fucking unicorn magic or something.

I slam the door, pulling my duffel out the back of the rental car, and approach my front porch just as the man of the hour swings open my screen door to allow me in.

“Thanks for letting me in my own house, man,” I mumble.

“Annie found me a flight with no layovers.”

I drop my bag on the ground. The air smells like alcohol, and I grimace.

“It’s all gone.”

My shoulders slump in relief. “The ones in the barn?”

“Got them.”

“There was a stash in Danny’s—”

“—old room behind the Nintendo. Duh. Who do you think put it there? Gone.”

My vision goes blurry around the edges, and I feel like the last two years are rushing behind my eyes. I have to swallow multiple times before I can choke out, “Thank you.”

Fitz scratches the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t come home and throat-punch me.”

I shake my head. “No. I planned to dump it all, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to once I got here.”

“Same. After the pills, though…” He grimaces. “I wasn’t gonna fail you again.”

“You fail me? What are you talking about?”

Disbelief paints his face. “Clay. You can’t be serious. You could have died.”

“I didn’t, and even if I did, that’s not your fault. I’m the fuckup.”

Fitz shakes his head, and I raise a hand to stop him as something hits home.

“Wait a minute. This isn’t another one of your ‘Danny’ things, is it? He didn’t leave you to take care of me. I’m an adult.”

“No, that’s not … well, yeah, of course that’s always a part of it. But not the way you think. Danny didn’t leave me in charge of you or anything, but Christ, Clay. You’re all I have left. We’re family. I care, you asshole. When you were laid out on the floor, blitzed out of your brain and bleeding…” He trails off, swallowing hard. My feet are frozen, stuck to the ground, my blood pounding painfully in my veins. Will I ever stop hurting the people I care about?

“I was ready to force you into rehab before Annie basically took charge of the situation and told me we were all going to her farm. Even then, I made some calls just in case. If you were coming back here to drink yourself into oblivion, I have an appointment at a place tomorrow morning.”

He sinks into a kitchen chair with a weary creak. “I thought if I could keep an eye on you, it would be fine. I could keep you out of trouble. Lots of kids drink. Fuck, Danny and I drank like fish. We slept around. We got into all sorts of trouble whenever he was on leave. But then, we looked out for each other. I figured I could do the same with you and you’d grow out of it.

“But you don’t drink to have a good time or scare away your nerves. You drink so you don’t have to face things. That ain’t right. You stuff that shit down until one day you’ll explode. You taking those pills? That was serious. I know that’s not the first time you’ve been given pills. The label hands that shit out like candy. But I was always there. You always told me about them. I mean, the first few times you handed them off to me to get rid of.”

I open my mouth, but Fitz waves me off. “No. No explaining that away. One day you’ll get it. You’ll see it from our perspectives. Jesus H., Clay. You didn’t see Annie’s face when she first saw you.”