Page 82 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“Excuse me, ladies. I have to take this.”

Becca doesn’t even acknowledge me. Sarah gives me a weird look, but I’ll explain it to her later, right after she tells me what the hell she’s thinking, hiring Becca as our wedding planner.

I leave the room, walking down the hallway and pushing through the front doors.

Taking a deep breath, my heart ramming against my chest cavity, I answer.

38

Eli

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Elliot Carson?”

My stomach clenches, my foot tapping against the cement. “Yep. This is he.”

“Hi, Elliot. This is Mark, from Stepping Stones Rehabilitation Center. I’m returning your call from this morning. You’re looking for some information?”

I sit on the front steps of the church, leg bouncing, and my heart thumping in time to my jitters. The sun beats down like a warning—do not pussy out of this call.

“Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I’m calling about my father. He uh…” I swipe my hand through my locks, tugging on the roots, searching for what to say.

How can I verbalize something I’m still attempting to understand?

“He drinks a lot. He’s… not himself anymore.” My teeth clench, a ball of anxiety lodging itself in my gut. “I don’t even know why I called, I doubt he’ll even go willingly, but—” The words stick in my throat. I grip the phone tighter. “He needs help. I need help. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

My limbs feel shaky, fear trickling through my heart, afraid that this man, Mark, will brush me off. Terrified of a stranger telling me I’m on my own. That I’m overreacting.

That ball of anxiety breaks free, ricocheting against my insides, leaving holes from where it hits. Mark’s voice is in my ear, but I don’t hear his words, my mind bogged down by my sudden realization.

I’ve been ignoring Lee’s pleas for years when she’s been on the other end of the line, probably feeling terrified of me rejecting what she says. Every time.

Holy shit.

I am the villain in this story.

Turns out, Pops is human, prone to making mistakes just like the rest of us. He’s not the man who raised me, and coming home has shattered any illusion I had left. The shame that’s kept me away for years, the absolute terror of seeing the disappointment in his eyes—it’s all a moot point.

There’s nothing in his gaze except the fog of whiskey, and the shadow of Ma’s absence.

I have no clue how to handle him. But I know my sister shouldn’t have to. Not alone. Not anymore.

I pray I’m not too late.

“Are you there?” Mark’s voice brings me back to the moment.

“Yeah, yes. I’m sorry, I just…” My stomach rolls.

He sighs. “Listen, Elliot. I know this is hard. The first step always is. But you’re calling. You’re doing it. You’re taking that first step, and all we can do is hope your father does the same. You can’t force someone to change if they aren’t ready. The decision is always theirs.”

My forehead drops to my hand, and I nod against my palm.

The decision is theirs.

I’m not very hopeful. It took me years to see the truth, and if I’m still struggling to face it, then I’m doubtful Pops ever will. After all, I modeled my stubbornness from him. A watered-down replica of the traits that live in his flaws.

It’s hard to admit things about the people you love, the ones you’ve spent your entire life revering. Feels a lot like betrayal to the man who raised me.

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