Page 17 of Duke
“Oh, fuck.” Mason’s eyes connect with mine and the quick tilt of his head is his way of asking what level of shitstorm we’re facing.
“I know. I don’t want to enable him, but I don’t know what else to do. He’s in pain. But he’s also in withdrawal from whatever he’s been using to get through. He has to fight tonight, but after this, we’re getting him the help he fucking needs.”
Mason blows out a hard breath and throws up his hands. “It’s enabling him to fight. That’s how we have to look at it. We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.” He lifts his hands to his head, gripping his hair so tightly, I’m sure his scalp must sting. “We should have forced the conversation before. We knew he was in trouble. Fucking dammit!” His breath heaves from him, and he closes his eyes, jaw working from side to side.
Lennon’s face pales at Mason’s explosion of anger, and she jumps to her feet, her eyes wary. She shakes her head. “I don’t have anything for pain. All I have are sleeping pills, and that won’t help. Maybe he can take one later, though, to help him sleep tonight.” She bites her lip, then gives me an awkward smile as she sucks in air through her teeth.
“I might have something,” Mason hisses out, clearly unhappy about the situation. “It’s some pretty good shit they gave me after I had my wisdom teeth pulled.” He threads his hand through his hair again, tugging, while he points with the other in the general direction of his bathroom. “Without knowing what and how much he’s been taking, I don’t know if it’ll be what he needs, but he’s welcome to try them, I guess.”
“Fucking anything that might help at this point. Seriously,” I rasp, “you haven’t seen the state he’s in.”
Mason nods grimly, and I back up to let him and Lennon into the room. Mason heads straight to the bathroom, where he rummages around for a good thirty seconds. I send up a silent prayer to anyone who’s fucking listening that he has something that will stave off Bear’s pain and withdrawal symptoms for a little while.
Worry lacing her tone, Lennon whispers, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
With my jaw tight, I nod. “Yeah. It’s really, really bad.”
“He won’t see a doctor?”
I exhale harshly. “I think the issue is probably that he knows they’ll put him on medical status. Bench him. He won’t play the rest of the year. It’d kill him. And his dad wouldalsokill him. A fun coincidence, because we’re assuming his dad is the one supplying him. Keep that to yourself for now.”
Lennon opens her mouth, but before she can comment, Mason comes out of the bathroom, victorious with an orange prescription bottle held high. “Thank fuck. I found them.” He gives me a tight smile as he shakes the bottle, letting the pills rattle inside. “I knew this would come in fucking handy. Where is he?”
I take the bottle from him, glancing at it. It’s some good shit. I think it might do the trick. “My room. Come on.” I’m already jogging toward the door when I wave over my shoulder that they should follow me. We race across the hall, paying little heed to anything else but getting back to Bear.
If I had any thought that maybe I was overreacting, the state he’s in when we enter the bathroom wipes it away. His six-foot-six frame is huddled on the floor, his back against the wall, legs drawn up with his arm folded to his chest, his forehead touching his knees. He rocks himself rhythmically side to side, his breath coming fast. He’s in a bad, bad way. There’s little to no reaction from him when we make our appearance, even though Lennon lets out a gasp that she quickly tries to muffle with her hand.
I sink to my knees beside him, opening the child safety cap of the prescription bottle while catching Mason’s eye. “There’s a bottle of water on my night table. Can you grab it?”
At the same time Mase ducks out of the room, Lennon lowers to the cold tile floor on Bear’s other side. “Bear, look at me.”
To my surprise, he listens, lifting his head and tilting it so he can see her.
“We have some stuff for you if you want to take it.” Her eyes roam his face, and she carefully brings up a hand to glide the backs of her fingers over his forehead and down his jawline. “I hate this for you. Why didn’t you say something?”
He draws in a breath, his eyes casting back down as he shakes his head. He doesn’t say a fucking word… but he says so goddamn much without speaking. Distress and anguish are etched into his facial features.
Mason returns with a small bottle of water and hands it to me as he sits down with us, so we’re in a semi-circle surrounding a broken, devastated Bear. He outright flinches when I go to pass the meds to him, along with the water. My brows dart together, and I can’t help the way my lips curve into a frown, but I set them aside so we can get to the bottom of this.
“Gideon”—Lennon’s tongue peeks out, wetting her full bottom lip as her gaze bounces among the three of us—“do you not want to take the meds?”
Bear’s face flushes, and he’s sweating bullets. Eyes crashing shut, he slowly shakes his head. His words fall painfully from his lips, rough and unsure as his body twitches and jerks intermittently, almost as if he’s unable to remain still. “I don’t want to get addicted again. Don’t want to fucking go through that. Almost made it. But—” Clenching his teeth together, his eyes pinch closed even more tightly. The three of us wait in nervous silence for him to finish his thought. Finally, he lets out an agonized whisper into the quiet. “I don’t know how to fight tonight without something.”
Mason eyes the hole on the wall over the big guy’s head. “Well, obviously you can throw a punch if you have to.”
Bear glances irritably at him. “Hurt like hell.”
Rubbing her hands over her face, Lennon throws her hands up. “Why? Why put yourself through this, then?” She scoots closer, resting her hand on Bear’s knee. “Don’t do it.Don’tfucking go.”
Unfortunately, her plea is met with a swift shake of his head as he grips the back of his neck, his legs bouncing. “I have to.”
“What would happen if you didn’t?” Her concern for him reaches inside me and squeezes at my heart, but she doesn’t understand what she’s asking of him.
I jerk, and it grabs Lennon’s attention in a subtle way. Her eyes connect with mine, searching. She tips her head to the side, her brow pinched tight. It’s only making him feel like shit to continue this line of questioning.
“I know you want to help him, but—” Mason shakes his head.
“I have to.” Bear’s answer is blunt and to the point, but it won’t stop Lennon from asking more questions… because that’s who she is. She needs to know what’s ticking around inside his head right now, just like she’s dug around in mine once or twice. Mason’s too.
