Page 5 of Hidden Heir

“How many fingers am I holding up?” I ask as I lean back, three fingers displayed.

Ant blinks slowly and sighs deeply. “I dunno. Three, I guess?”

“Right.” Cup discarded, his speech and his clarity tell me that he’s not in any immediate danger. He’s just high as fuck. After a few long minutes, I turn on the hot water. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Ant’s raspy laugh follows me through to the bedroom where Tiff is crying herself hoarse She screams when she sees me and my heart shatters to see her in such distress. She fights me when I sit on the bed and attempt to hold her. With one ear on the bathroom, it takes me nearly half an hour to calm her down, but the tears start again when I cancel our pizza and movie plan. I can’t do that and keep an eye on Ant at the same time.

I spend the night darting between the two of them. Tiff gets a dinner of spaghetti hoops and time on the iPad until she falls asleep. Ant gets me waking him up every thirty minutes to make sure he’s still alive. By the time I tuck Tiff into bed and kiss her goodnight, Ant has more clarity.

After the shower, I moved him back into the living room. I cleaned up his vomit, discarded the needles and every baggie of drugs I could find, cleaned out the bathtub and helped him get into clean, dry clothes. I finally took a moment for myself, showering to get the vomit out of my hair.

He’s exhausting.

I’mexhausted.

By the time I finally close my eyes, the sun is creeping over the edge of the horizon, turning the sky pink and orange. Forty minutes is all I’m allowed before my alarm starts to blare and another day starts. Running on fumes, I get Tiff up, washed, fed, and dressed, all before Ant makes an appearance.

He trudges into the kitchen with a yawn and a groan, rubbing at his chest as if he’s in pain. Tiff waves at him with a mouthful of cereal. He waves back but doesn’t smile.

“Hey sis,” he says sheepishly.

“Don’t,” I snap, keeping a fake smile on my face. “Not now. Not in front of Tiff.”

“Look,” he continues. “I’m really sorry, alright? You know what happens when I get low. I can’t help myself, you know I can’t. I’m not in control.”

“Ant,” I warn, sliding my hands over Tiff’s ears. “I said I don’t want to talk about it right now. I came home and you were passed out cold. I thought you were dead! I’m sickened to think what could have happened if I sent Tiff in there without checking first!”

“I know,” he says. “I know and I’m sorry. You don’t know what it’s like though. This… thismonsterinside of me takes over and I lose all control. I got some bad news and I was spiraling. You weren’t here to help me and I just…” He blinks slowly, his eyes still glazed. “I’m really struggling here, but it won’t happen again, I swear. That was the last time.”

It’s always the last time.

“What bad news?” I inquire, then shake my head. “Forget it. I don’t want to know. Not right now.”

I tell myself again and again that I won’t fall for it, but Ant has it down to a skill now. He acts broken, and my heart goes out to him because part of me still desperately yearns for the brother who pulled my pigtails and played hide and seek with me for hours to distract me from my hunger.

Of course I want him alive and healthy. Not this hollow shell that wears his face and speaks with his memories. Unfortunately for him, anger rules out.

“Ant. I know you’re struggling, but you put Tiff at riskand I can’t forgive you for that. I have to go to work, but if you want to stay here, you’d better show me proof that you’re getting yourself some help, understand?”

“But those places are expensive,” Ant says woefully. “I know you can’t afford that.”

My patience grows thin. “Well,” I sigh, “find one with a payment plan.”

“Brooke—”

“I have to go.”

Walking into my store,the scent of flowers and plants doesn’t soothe me like it usually does. I dropped Tiff off at her Nanny, promising to pick her up early while apologizing profusely to Hannah for yesterday. Hannah was as sweet as ever, assuring me it wasn’t a problem, but I still feel guilty.

I dislike it when my life spills over into others. Maybe that’s because Ant’s spills so much into mine.

Turning on the lights, I trudge through to the greenhouse, and this time, I’m able to avoid Ant’s boxes, though my ankle gives a lingering throb at the sight of them. In the whirlwind of the night before, I’d completely forgotten about Amy, so it comes as no surprise when I open my phone and find thirteen emails and three missed calls. She loved several of the flowers, including the Angel Amber Kiss Pansies, and wants them at the center of the display. Luckily, I have enough to satisfy her but her other requests will take some time.

After replying, I set my phone aside and take a pause.

Exhaustion sits heavy behind my eyes, taunting me with sleep I can’t have. I feel stretched thin. Between parenting Tiff, running this place, and caring for Ant, I don’t have time for anything else. My social circle has dwindled since Tiff was born, so there’s no one I can call to join me while I drown myself in cocktails, though that’s probably a good thing.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to though.

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