Page 22 of Kissing Chaos
“I don’t like how pale you are, bud. Can you let me help you to the floor?”
A single nod is all he gives me.
“Cradle your arm.”
As he does, I crouch beside the bench, quickly pulling Drew onto my knee and lowering us both to the rubber mats.
By the time I have his head pressed between his knees and am pulling a wet rag from the gym cooler, Declan storms in, his wife Kristen quietly slipping in behind him.
“The hell were you doing down here, Drew?”
“Declan, we talked about this. Now is not the time.” How Kristen manages to scold her husband without sounding like she’s ripping him a new one is impressive.
Declan stalks across the gym, hands clasped tightly behind his head.
Placing the rag on Drew’s neck, I tune back in to what Kristen is saying, her tone soothing as always.
“Do you want me to call Dr. Lindsay? You know she’ll make a house call for you.”
“No.”
Declan growls from the other end of the room but doesn’t comment. I know it has to be killing him to see his brother in pain. It’s sickening to see a shell of my friend.
None of us expected Drew to develop a dependency on opioids, least of all the man who treats his body like a temple. Aside from a few drunken adventures, Drew thrives on water, lean protein, boxing, and riding. Whatever happened leading up to his accident changed him. I thought he’d quit the pills cold turkey a month ago, but the bits of conversation I heard between him and Jace recently suggest it wasn’t as clean cut as I’d hoped.
My gut churns as I ask, “Where’s the pill bottle, Drew?”
Defeat pours from his body, but he doesn’t say anything. It must be the last straw for Declan, because he storms up the steps and disappears into Drew’s loft.
“You can’t ride out the withdrawal and the pain together, man.”
I slip up the stairs to follow Declan and hear Kristen add, “Drew, honey. I do not want to haul you down to the medical center, but if we can’t get your pain level down, I won’t have a choice. We can try a few pressure points if you want.”
As I slip through the door, Kristen’s voice fades, and I can hear Declan storming through the bedroom and what sounds suspiciously like things being thrown against a wall.
Leaning my head back out, I holler down. “You gonna tell me where to look, or are you good with your brother ransacking the entire place?”
“Sock drawer,” Drew rasps.
I slip into Drew’s room to find Declan on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
The groan that wants to slip out stays contained, barely. I do not have the mental capacity to comfort grown-ass men today, no matter how important they are to me. Drawing on my last bit of patience, I retrieve the two pill containers from the top drawer of Drew’s dresser before leaning against the worn furniture.
“What’s on your mind, Dec?”
“You know it’s my fault, right?” Declan asks.
I shake my head. “You didn’t make him jump on Havoc.”
The poor colt hasn’t been saddled since the accident, and the only guys allowed to handle him are Declan and Reece. The thing is a skittish mess.
“Not that part. The reason he got drunk that night, though? That was all on me.”
“Drew’s a big boy. He made his own choices. That’s not on you.”
Declan nods toward the door. “He’s trying to do it on his own because he doesn’t want my help. And he doesn’t want to talk to Kristen because she’s my wife.” He mumbles something else that sounds suspiciously like “stupid Leila” as he stands and slips out of the room. I bite my tongue in an effort to keep from asking questions.
Leila was Drew’s childhood sweetheart. When she became the poster child for bad luck and had to leave Havenwood before she turned eighteen, it’d taken over a year for Drew to move on. How could she have anything to do with something that happened last summer?
