Look After Me
Look After Me
Copyright © Elena Matthews 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by ©Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations.
Edited by Jennifer Roberts-Hall
Proofreading by Emma Mack, Tink’s Typos
Interior by Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
For every person who has ever had their heart broken.
May you find that one person who can help you put it back together . . .
Piece by piece.
I’M CLUTCHING AVA’S HAND as if my life depends on it. My entire body is shaking as I look at the love of my life, my fiancée, the mother of my child in sheer desperation. I love her so damn much. I don’t care that she cheated on me. I don’t care that she didn’t tell me her secret. I can forgive her,
I can . . .
“Where do we go from here, Ava?”
“I have to follow my heart,” Ava says painfully.
“And what does your heart say?”
My adrenaline goes up a notch as I wait for her terrifying answer. I can see her eyes begin to fill with tears and my heart thuds against my chest as I witness the look of pain etched along her beautiful yet battered face. God, the things he did to her . . . I can’t even contemplate it.
Fuck.
Please say it’s me . . .
Please . . .
I need you . . .
I love you.
My eyes widen hopelessly as she opens her mouth to speak.
“That Ashton’s the one I want to be with.”
My chin begins to tremble on its own accord, and my insides snap and shatter at her words. An indescribable pain ricochets across my chest and I find it impossible to find my next breath. The tears I didn’t realize I held, begin to fall.
The motherfucking floodgates open and I cry hysterically in the arms of the woman who doesn’t love me anymore.
In that one moment, everything changes, and I turn to the only thing I know will numb the pain of my loss.
Cocaine.
Seven Months Later
ALCOHOL AND DRUG REHAB.
Not where you’d expect an ex-soldier—who’s been to war in Afghanistan—to find himself.
You expect soldiers to endure rehabilitation therapy for blown up limbs or psychiatric help for post-traumatic stress disorder. Well, not me. I fell into my old habits fairly quickly after having my heart torn into two by the woman I thought I was destined to spend the rest of my life with. Things became dark after that, and I stupidly turned to the one thing that almost killed me when I was eighteen years old.
I’d thought I was past that part of my life.
I remember a conversation I had with Ava just after my daughter, Lily-Mai was born, a couple of weeks before I came home from Afghanistan on two weeks leave. I told her after my deployment ended I was retiring. That I wanted to be a part of my family’s life.
She was worried I would turn back to drugs once I left the Army. But she was wrong. I hadn’t turned to drugs to fill the void of the emptiness of leaving the Army. No,
she
was the reason for my relapse. She was the reason cocaine quickly became my soul mate again.
Because she’d made it fucking clear that I was no longer hers.
At first it was a couple of lines to get me through the pain, but eventually, a couple of lines turned into more. I’d started sleeping the days away.
Until I almost didn’t wake up.
Now, I’m currently sitting in a circle with my fellow drug and alcohol addicts waiting for the next group session to begin. I’m surrounded by addicts who have lost their homes, their families, and their livelihoods. Some turned to their choice of poison out of desperation, some depression, and some who just liked the high.
Then there’s me . . .
A broken-hearted fool.
How fucking pitiful.
I shouldn’t fucking be here. I should be living with the woman of my dreams and my beautiful daughter. We should be planning our wedding; planning the rest of our lives together. But those plans were taken away from me when Ava chose somebody else; when Ava cheated on me with another guy. But not just any guy—my daughter’s frigging doctor. I want to hate him, but how can I hate the guy who saved my beautiful daughter when she was born thirteen weeks premature? He’s the reason she’s alive.
I want to hate Ava, but I still fucking love her. I love her so much. Just the thought of her has me clenching my hand against my chest and wanting to curl over in excruciating pain. Seven months have passed, yet the pain still feels as if my heart was broken only yesterday. It leaves me in a state of self-loathing. None of this was my fault, yet I blame myself anyway. You’d think the pain would have dissolved with the suppressed urge to snort coke, but it seems therapy and time haven’t healed my wounds. Instead, it’s made me a bitter man with a hatred for life; a hatred of epic proportions.
The only person who gives me an ounce of happiness is Lily-Mai, and she’s the reason I’m fighting for my recovery. I’m not going to have another guy raise my little girl. I’m her dad, not
him.
He will
never
be her father. Some say blood is thicker than water, and they’re right. Nobody can take my daughter away from me.
Not even some hotshot doctor.
Through my angered haze, I don’t realize our team leader, Addison, has entered the room and is about to start our morning discussion. When I sit forward, with my elbows leaning on my thighs, I’m a little surprised to find her pretty gaze and a sweet smile aimed at me. I try and muster the best smile I can, but considering I haven’t smiled in such a long time, I can only stare back at her. Her smile falters, and after a few seconds she looks away.
“Hi, guys. How is everybody doing this morning?”
They respond with grunts and a couple of ‘fines,’ but I remain silent. I’m not a man of many words these days. When my mother was alive she used to say,
“If you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,”
so I keep my goddamn mouth shut. I have nothing nice to say. In fact, I have nothing to say period, so I keep to myself and avoid conversation unless I’m forced to interact with someone in order to get me the hell out of this place.
“Not exactly the welcome I was looking for, but it’s still early, so I’ll let you guys off,” she says with a sweet smile. “Okay, let’s get started. I want to go around the circle and I want each of you to tell me in one word how you’re feeling this morning. Paula, I’m going to start with you.”
Paula glances around the circle nervously, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater with her fists. “Erm . . .” She takes another agitated glance around the circle.
Addison places her hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s fine. Nobody is here to judge.”
After a jittery breath, Paula answers, “I don’t know . . . I guess thirsty.”
I can bet my bottom dollar it isn’t for water. Although, who am I to judge? I’m in here for coke addiction.
Not exactly one of my proudest moments.