Page 33 of Hidden Heir

“Fine,” I say. “You want drugs? I can get you drugs.”

“No!” Brooke yells. “What the fuck, Leon?”

The greediness in Ant’s eyes is unmistakable.

“But” I continue. “This will be a one-time deal. Going cold turkey is incredibly tough and I’m aware it can also be dangerous. But you have been doing well, from my understanding. So, you have to make the choice.”

I don’t care either way. Ant’s value to me only exists because he is important to Brooke. Offering him the drugs is my way of trying to show her that he willalwayschoose his next fix over her.

“Please, Ant.” Brooke pushes past me and rounds the counter to him. “You’re doing so well. You don’t need to do this.”

“I want the drugs,” Ant says flatly, ignoring Brooke as he stares at me.

“Are you sure? I can set you up on a program that will slowly wean you off the drugs, but eventually, you will find yourself back in this spot.”

“Please, Ant,” Brooke begs. “Don’t do this. You don’t need to.”

“This is killing me, Brooke, don’t you get it?” Ant snaps, finally acknowledging his sister at his elbow. “You have no ideawhat it feels like to have your insides clawing you apart all the time. To feel your intestines trying to strangle you from the inside, an itch that’s too deep you can’t reach it. I can’t think of anything else. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. This is torture. You want to keep torturing me?”

“I… no, of course not,” Brooke says as she deflates before my eyes. “I just want you to get better.”

“Thiswill help me get better. You heard him. A plan or whatever.”

The details of the plan will mean nothing in the long run, but I will prepare it regardless to show Brooke that I will take care of anyone she considers family. Even if this roach doesn’t deserve it.

“Fine,” Brooke murmurs. “Maybe going cold turkey was too much to ask for. A plan is safer, right?” She looks at me with wide, hopeful eyes and I nod.

“Like weaning a child, little by little.”

“I’m not a fucking child,” Ant snaps.

It takes all my restraint not to say anything. “Head back to your room, Ant. I’ll bring you what you need.”

“You don’t have it here?” His greedy eyes scan around the kitchen as Brooke takes his arm and turns him away.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she says. “Go upstairs. Please.”

Ant finally agrees after Brooke repeats the same thing three times. After he leaves, Brooke fixes me with a cold stare. “This is your idea of helping?”

“What would you prefer? That we deny him what he craves until he finds some other desperate way to get it? Something tells me you’re familiar with that.”

Brooke looks down at the floor. “You’re right. I just… fuck! I wish he would just stick with it. He’s so close.”

“Has he ever been clean before?” I turn off the stove completely, abandoning the meal and leading the way out of the kitchen.

“A few times,” Brooke replies. “The longest was maybe four months. So I know he can do it. But he always relapses, and I don’t know how to stop him from doing that.”

“Is that really your responsibility?”

“Yes,” she says. “He has no one else.”

The way she says it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from a place of love but that it’s merely an obligation forged from birth and their co-dependent relationship. I can’t imagine there’s much else keeping them together.

“How long?”

“Has he been an addict?” Her nose crinkles. “Steadily six years, give or take. Though I’m pretty sure it’s been longer. In the beginning, when I was still a kid, I sort of understood what was going on. Life was hard. Our parents didn’t care about us and when they died all we had was each other. Life got even harder and he found an escape in drugs.”

“And what about you?” We reach my first-floor office and I lead the way inside, gathering what Ant requires from a locked cabinet.

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