Page 2 of Drifting Hearts
“You have a problem, Clayton.”
“Just one? I must be slipping.” Even I wanted to punch myself in the mouth, but Shane ignored my attempt at humor, or whatever that was.
“Archer doesn’t want to see you, but he’s not willing to let you suffer. I’m doing all this for him, and if you can’t muster up enough shits about yourself to turn your life around, maybe you can manage to do it for Archer.”
What could I say in response? No, please, let me go home alone to my busted, ruined, bare bones apartment that I’m being evicted from. My lonely hovel wouldn’t be the same without me skulking around in it. Please let me try to figure out how I’m going to make it up the four flights of stairs on a busted leg.
Would I see Archer again? I doubted it. Something told me he was finished with me for good, and only through the grace of not being a shitty human was he willing to help me. I was like the stray dog, dirty and flea ridden, that no one wanted, but no one wanted to watch it suffer either. Like the stray dog, I was being shuffled off to a shelter too. I’d have laughed if I thought it was funny and not tragically pathetic.
I didn’t have the energy to open my mouth and tell Shane that I’d try not to let Archer down again. It felt like a lie anyway. Like disappointing everyone around me was inevitable.
“Thank you,” I said instead, knowing it wasn’t enough. “I don’t have money, but I can stay somewhere else if you’d prefer.”
“And where is this other place that you’d stay?”
When I couldn’t answer him, Shane nodded. “You’ll stay where I put you. You’ll see the therapist. You’ll get on your feet. It’s the least you can do. When you’re ready to be discharged, Kieran will pick you up.”
Shane left the room, taking all the oxygen with him. How the hell was I supposed to pay Archer back for money I took, plus pay Shane back for covering my debts? The old me would’ve immediately thought of going to the track. Or the casino. I had good luck on the tables sometimes. Not with poker, but blackjack I was good with. Only now I couldn’t do that. Shane had cut me off at the knees. Not that I could make it to a casino on my own at the moment. Or that I had any money to spend there to begin with.
Is this what rock bottom looks like?
Knowing you had a problem was one thing. I’d known since I took the money from Archer that I had a problem. I knew before then, but that had been the tipping point for me. The moment when everything went from bad to worse. Because if I could fuck over my best friend, I was a piece of shit. And I might as well continue to be one becausethere was no way to fix what I’d done. Even if I won ten million dollars, no amount of cash could repair the damage that I’d done to our friendship.
At first I told myself that he’d forgive me. But the moment the money was gone, I knew it wasn’t true. And suddenly I couldn’t face him. Rock bottom wasn’t when Sam’s guys came and worked me over. It was when Archer walked in and looked at me with hate and pity, and a sadness that I was responsible for. Never before had I hated myself so completely.
And yet he didn’t abandon me. He should have.
Shane and Archer didn’t come back to see me. The next time I saw someone who didn’t work for the hospital was the morning of my discharge when a guy who looked a bit like Shane wandered into my hospital room.
If looks could kill.
His eyes were ice blue and twice as cold. Either he had the strongest resting bitch face on the planet, or he hated me on sight. I voted for both.
“You must be Kieran.”
“Here’s some clothes.” Kieran dropped a bag on the bed. “I talked to the nurse, and they’re coming around with your discharge paperwork. I’ll be back.”
Kieran was a frosty motherfucker. Not that I blamed him. It was refreshing in a way. Shane had been as nice to me as he could manage, but because he didn’t want to upset Archer, he hadn’t been openly hostile. Kieran clearly gave zero shits about any of that. He looked like he might enjoy pushing my wheelchair into oncoming traffic or kicking my crutches out from under me.
I didn’t mind the way he openly hated me. It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve.
By the time the nurse came in to give me ten thousand instructions, I’d worn myself out changing into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I signed everything with my non-dominant hand. My signature looked like a kindergarten kid wrote it, but it was good enough to spring me from the hospital.
There were no flower arrangements and get well soon gifts to pack up or deal with, not that I deserved any, or had anyone who might send me one. The nurse helped me into a wheelchair just as Kieran came back into the room, his face dark and brooding like a thundercloud.
“Ready?”
No. I wasn’t.
“Yeah.” I stifled the chill that swept over me when Kieran approached.
He didn’t speak to me on the way down the elevator. Or on the way to the parking lot. We got to his truck and I looked at it and tried to wobble to my feet… my foot. Unsure how I was supposed to get in.
“For fuck sake.” Kieran yanked the passenger door open and scooped me up like I weighed nothing. He deposited me on the passenger seat, not exactly carefully, but with enough consideration that he didn’t bump my arm or my leg.
By the time he collapsed the wheelchair and stowed it in the back seat, I’d managed to sit somewhat comfortably, even if the act of moving my legs and buckling my seatbelt was a monumental task. Kieran shut my door, then got in the driver’s seat.
Exhaustion made my eyelids too heavy to open. I let myself lean back and didn’t worry about trying to make small talk. Kieran clearly had no use for me and it made it more comfortable somehow. Knowing that he already thought the worst of me and I couldn’t disappoint him.
