Page 29 of Duke
Mase scrubs a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. “Or they have unfettered access. I’m inclined to think the latter. Or fuck, both. What the hell do we know? Such a dick move to leave them for youafterthe fight. Rubbing the loss you just suffered right in your face.”
Bear, though, he’s out of his head, spinning around before I get a chance to take a look at them. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” His breathing is labored as he paces. “I could have won. If he hadn’t been such a fucking dick about it and just given them to me…” His eyes slam shut, and he bends at the waist. “Doesn’t fucking care about me.” The words rip from his throat raw and defeated.
I turn around, asking Duke and Mason with my eyes what we should do. I fold my lower lip into my mouth and let my teeth scrape over it as I try to control myself so I can help him, but it’s so fucking hard. I can practically feel his pain, and not just the physical stuff either—the mental anguish. Everything that’s been weighing heavily on his heart.
Mason blinks, swallowing hard as Bear lets out a sound that’s so damn lost and uncertain. It’s clear from looking at Mason and Duke that they’re terribly affected by their friend’s breakdown. Duke tugs on the back of his neck with both hands, shaking his head as he stares at the floor.
“Go sit down,” I murmur, pointing at the couch and chairs where we’d been this morning. Jesus, was it only this morning that we’d all gathered to figure out what happened to me? I rub a hand over my face, trying not to let the fact that we still don’t know the answers to that bother me. “We need to sort through some shit.” No matter that we’re all on the verge of collapsing. No matter that it’s almost two in the morning. No matter that we have class in only a handful of hours.
Because Bear needs us right now. I drop to my knees at his side, peeking up at him. “Gideon.” His jaw twitches, and he blinks rapidly. At his knee, the small package is all but crushed in his hand. I tentatively reach up, touching the back of his bicep, the same place the lion tattoo is inked. I think he’s going to need a little bit of that brave-hearted lion courage to pull himself through this. His eyes flick to mine. I nudge the hand holding the drugs. “Can I see this, please?” He exhales hard, then nods, allowing me to tug it free from his hand. I flip open the flap and look inside to find a small packet of pills.Oxy.No wonder he’s been going through withdrawal off and on if he hasn’t had a steady stream of the stuff. I stand up, folding the package closed again before I stuff it into my back pocket so I can focus on him.
He wets his lips, straightening from his hunched over position. As he does, he puts one hand on my shoulder, briefly squeezing. “I’m not good enough for you. Go to bed. Let me talk this through with Duke and Mason.”
His words slice me wide open, and my heart plummets from my chest and lands at my feet. I exhale softly, shaking my head as I reach out, putting one hand on his waist where his joggers give way to warm skin. “I don’t want to hear you talking like that about yourself.” I chew on my lip as I study his haggard features. He doesn’t want to look at me, that much is obvious when I shift my head, and he moves his so he can avoid me. “Don’t fucking do this to me.” I step directly in front of him, lifting both hands to cup the lower half of his face, tilting it to me. Raggedly, I whisper, “I love you, Gideon, and I refuse to just give up on you.”
His jaw clenches tightly, and I can practically see all the lies he’s been fed about himself by his own damn father running through his head. “You love the idea of me, Little Gazelle, not who I really am.”
A strangled, “Oh, fuck,” is muttered by either Duke or Mason, though I don’t know which. It doesn’t matter.
I frown stubbornly up at Bear, searching the hazel eyes I’ve come to read so well. He’s hurting. “Don’t tell me how I feel. And if you really think I’m so clueless that I don’t see you for who you are, we have more problems than you’re thinking. Now, come over here with me, and let’s sort this through.”
He exhales hard, grips my wrists, and tugs my hands from his face. I open my mouth in protest until he brings them to his lips instead, kissing the backs of my fingers. He lets out a long sigh. “I hope you’re right.” He trails me over to the sitting area where Duke’s waiting on the couch and Mason’s taken up residence on the armchair.
I nod toward the couch, and he moves to sit beside Duke. “I know I’m right because I’m the only one who knows you like mint chocolate chip. Let’s hope it’s not soup by now.”
SIXTEEN
BEAR
My chest is unbearablytight as I take a seat, my eyes following Lennon as she walks back over toward the door. At first, I think she’s leaving, but she retrieves something and wanders back, a triumphant yet hesitant smile on her face.
“Here. It’s a little soft, but edible.” She holds the bowl out to me and now the mint chocolate chip reference makes sense. This girl. She brought me ice cream at two in the morning. Must have figured I was losing it. I take it from her, unsure what to say. Sitting down across from me on the coffee table, she chews the inside of her cheek, studying me. I take a bite of the softening ice cream. And by some miracle, when the cold confection hits my tongue, I let out some of the breath I’ve been holding, and the tension I’ve been carrying lessens. Whether it’s the ice cream or the fact that she brought it for me is debatable.
Actually, it’s not. There’s no doubt in my mind. Fuck no. It’s the sweetness of Lennon’s gesture that’s helping. Inside my chest, the muscle there beats abnormally, skipping over beats and losing rhythm. It aches with everything I’ve been hiding. It’s time to fuckin’ spill. If we’re going to get through this, nail down what’s been happening around here… I need to come clean. I snort inwardly. Fuck, that’s an awful, unintended pun.
“Where do we start?” Folding her hands together in her lap, Lennon looks at us expectantly.
I wish I fuckin’ knew where to begin, but I’m so deep in the mire, I’m adrift and going in circles in my mind. My eyes bleary, I rub a hand over the scruff on my cheek, at a complete loss for how to do this.
Mason sits with his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clasped between them. He juts his chin in my direction, dark eyes boring into me. “I think we definitely need to back this entire fucking truck up and start at the beginning. From the lack of denial when Lennon brought up the prescription meds, I can only assume that your fuckhead father is the one who’s been supplying you with—what was it?” His gaze remains on me, piercing and bold.
I’m sweating fucking bullets but swallow a bite of ice cream before answering. “Oxy.”
Lennon confirms that for us with a nod. “That’s what’s in the package.”
“How long?” Duke isn’t one to mince words, especially with stuff like this.
“I was on it for months after I had surgery the first time. And only a small fraction of that was prescribed by the surgeon. You know how they are—they give you just enough but no more.” I huff out a disturbed laugh. “You know. Because they don’t want you to get addicted to it. And in my case, it wasn’t quite enough. I was still in some serious post-surgical pain. Didn’t have any idea how to manage it. I was scared my shoulder was never going to be right again.”
Lennon lets out a steady breath, then presses her lips together. “All your dreams for your future, crushed. That’s how it started, then?”
I nod. “Yeah. Dad got it for me—I never asked how—and of course, rubbed it in real good that he was doing me a favor and expected payment. If I had known the road I was about to go down, I really would have tried harder to do without. Because fuck if I haven’t paid big time in the end.” I bow my head and stare at the floor, my chest heaving as it constricts around my lungs.
“Bear. Fuckin’ breathe. We’re with you. You aren’t alone anymore.” Mason growls, “Fuck, man. I’m pissed you didn’t say anything.” Then under his breath, he bites out, “But leave it to Derek to medicate his own son, then use it against him.”
I take another bite of the ice cream, though my appetite is pretty much shot. Handing the bowl over to Lennon, she doesn’t comment, merely sets it down beside her and returns her attention to me. “I’d like to hear more.”
I meet her big blue eyes and nod. “I was so fucking”—I work my jaw to the side, my face infusing with color—“addicted. I was hooked. And I am utterly ashamed of the lengths I was willing to go to in order to get more of it—stronger, longer lasting, justmore.”
