Page 25 of Captured Memories

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Zane hadn’t descendedto this level of hell in years. Worse than the cottonmouth, the throbbing headache, and the aching limbs was the toxic shame and loathing that flooded him in a fierce torrent. He had royally fucked up last night. Not only had he broken his sobriety and thrown away countless hours of hard work, but Liv had showed up. She’d seen him in that miserable state, little more than a growling beast. Nausea swept over him. With a slow creak, he rose from the couch to find her, to apologize, and then to move three states away.

Instead of the teal-haired beauty who he vaguely remembered escorting him home last night, a grizzled, pock-marked war vet sat in his chair, awake and reading one beast of a book. He wore a pressed plaid shirt and a pair of khakis that fit too well, the man brimming with a refinement no one would expect if they knew his history.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Sampson?” he asked, his voice coming out thick from sleep and dehydration.

“Drink some water before you talk to me,” his sponsor said, pointing to the full glass on the coffee table in front of him. “You sound like shit.”

Zane slid up, wincing as his head pounded to a quicker tempo. His arm trembled a little bit as he lifted the glass, but he forced the liquid down his throat, even if the cold burned the whole way. He hung his head in front of him before making the slow, painstaking attempt to unbutton the once-nice shirt that after his bender would have to be retired. He doubted those stains would come out any time soon.

“She called me last night,” Sampson said, glancing up from his book. “You’ve got a good one there.”

“Had,” he said, glaring at his rug. Fuck, yesterday had been hell, from the moment Lex flung the past into his face to stumbling into Hideaway. The first shot of bourbon dosed him with such sweet relief, one he couldn’t forget no matter how much he tried. That was the relief he fought against every day sober, that first gulp with its siren’s allure. He rummaged in his pocket for his chip and tossed it in Sampson’s direction. “You’ll be wanting this back.”

Sampson placed his book on the coffee table over top of the couple of papers scattered across the surface. “You’ll just have to earn it again.”

“I’ve got nothing, man. Nothing to work for and nothing to live for. You might as well spend your time on someone worth a damn, someone with a chance at fighting this battle,” Zane murmured into his hands. His heart pounded in his chest. God, he was such a piece of shit. Couldn’t even handle a wedding with his girl—he bolted straight for the bottle and destroyed everything he’d worked towards in one quick sweep.

Monster. The word pulsed through him with the regularity of his urges, mocking his efforts at cleaning up his life. Mocking the stupid hope he might find happiness with Liv. Assholes like him didn’t deserve redemption. He swallowed, his throat tightening despite the water he poured down it.

“Your girl wanted me to pass along something,” Sampson said, drawing his attention. He reached into his pocket and handed over a couple pieces of paper. Zane reached over to grab them from Sampson, staring at the pictures. She’d printed out the photographs she’d taken of their picnic food. Liv made those dishes come alive and brought them to breathtaking color and clarity that made them leap off the page.

“She said your dream was worth fighting for, and that she’s going to be there to see it come true,” Sampson added, watching him with those too-knowing eyes. “Don’t know what the hell a bunch of pictures of food has to do with it, though.”

Zane sucked in a shaky breath, hoping his sponsor happened to look the other way while liquid pooled in his eyes. Not like he’d let the tears fall. Shit. She had infected him with the exact hope that clashed against the desolation claiming him now.

“And as for me walking away, tough luck, asshole. I didn’t invest this much time in you to ditch now.” Sampson watched him from where he leaned back into the chair. “There’s a meeting in a half hour, and we’re attending. If I gave up every time I had a lapse, I’d have been buried years back. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you despite the poison you preach to yourself.”

Zane raked a hand through his tangled hair, the tumult of emotions warring with the blistering hangover he fended off. An invisible slick of scum coated his skin in the wake of his bender. Every ounce of him wanted to crumple down and accept defeat. He’d fucked up, and he’d continue fucking up from here until eternity. However, the pictures of the food he’d created, at the warmth and beauty Liv portrayed those meals with—that stirred something he’d tried to trample and strangle out at every attempt. The hope of a future he longed for, one he’d almost tasted.

Facing everyone at AA with his recent failure ranked up there as the last thing he wanted to do—the mere thought of it soured his stomach. But sometimes all it took was the first step. To continue on, one step at a time, until minutes turned into days, and days turned into years. He’d vanished once out of Liv’s life with no explanation—he wouldn’t do that to her again. Even if she chose to leave afterwards, he’d give her his whole story.

“Let me change out of this shit and we’ll head out,” Zane responded, rising from the couch to lumber towards his room. Sampson didn’t look up from the book he’d diverted his attention to, but a nearly imperceptible smile lifted the corner of his lips.

The meeting had been grueling,to say the least. Zane expected as much. He lit his cigarette as he stalked towards his apartment and sucked down nicotine as fast as he could manage. Sampson had sat with him through the entire meeting, his steady presence keeping him connected. Even though memories of yesterday squeezed him dry and his head still throbbed with the remnants of his hangover, he managed to put one foot in front of the other. At the end of the day, that’s all he could do.

As he approached his apartment, a familiar figure sat on the bottom step, causing Zane to freeze. His hands balled into fists at his side, and anger mixed with the shame roared in at the sight of his former friend.

Lex stood, raising his hands in defense. “Hear me out, Z.” His voice was serious, hoarse even. “Please.”

Zane kept his composure by a thread, shaken from their encounter yesterday. He sucked in a deep breath. Another confrontation like the one before might decimate him, but the asshole stood right in front of the steps, blocking his way up.

“I wanted to apologize,” Lex said, looking at the ground as he scratched the back of his neck. Zane’s brows furrowed in confusion. Out of everything he’d expected, an apology wasn’t it. “Back then—that night…I didn’t know what you’d been through, and like the shit friend I was, I didn’t even try to get the whole story. You’d been suffering in silence while I paraded around calling you my best friend, acting like I knew you. I knew shit was bad for you at home, and I should’ve been there for you.”

Zane swallowed, hard. He never expected to see that shade of vulnerability on Lex, and his brain had turned into such mush at this point he could barely compute. The hardass had been quick to laugh with him but had bolted when he needed him the most—never the kind of guy to offer an apology. He opened his mouth, but all he managed was, “How did you find out?”

Lex fixed him with a look. “My sister. I tried to scare her away from you, told her the whole story about the night in the bar, and she fired back at your defense. She doesn’t give a damn about what landed you in jail, bro. Turns out, she understood you better than I ever did.”

Zane leaned against the brick wall, the stone scraping against his shirt. He sucked down another swig of nicotine from his cigarette, needing something to balance him. All day he’d been steeling himself to bare his soul, to reveal his ugliest secret to Liv, but last night when she’d arrived to take care of him she had already known—she’d known and came anyway.

“So, why are you here?” Zane asked, trying to figure out the man’s motivations. After the way Lex ripped into him last night, he had a hard time buying any change of heart. Bitterness like that didn’t just vanish.

Lex shook his head. “Thought that was pretty clear. I held onto a lot of anger over that night for far too long, and I’m done with that. Liv was right—I was being an asshole and a shitty friend. I don’t expect your friendship, but I couldn’t sleep at night if I didn’t at least try to set things straight. You fucked up and you did your time. At the end of the day, that’s all we can do.”

The declaration from his former friend socked him in the gut, something he had never expected to hear from Lex. With the way his nerves jittered at this point, even the smooth intake of nicotine didn’t help. Zane slid to a crouch, keeping his back pressed against the brick as he let out another steady stream of smoke, watching it rise up between them. He deserved Lex’s anger after the way he’d flown off the handle that night. During his time behind bars, he’d contemplated a thousand ways he could have dealt with the situation better.

Even though his years of heavy drinking blurred some memories, others he would carry with him for the rest of his life. Lex might not have been the kind of solid friend Liv was but he’d been a stable presence for Zane when so much had been chaos. That night, Lex had looked at him in sheer horror, and when Zane stared at his own bloodstained hands and the still body beneath him—he’d been sure he killed Jay —he lost what little steady ground he stood on. That day he’d never felt more like a monster—like the monster his own father had been.

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