Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2) (20 page)

Afraid I’ll really lose it if I look at Ryan any longer, I make my way to the bookshelf and run my hands over some of the colorful spines. I stop when I see a copy of
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
. “Oh this was one of my favorites as a kid. I read it so much the back cover practically came off.”

Ryan reveals, “Actually, that
is
your copy,” just as I pull it out to expose a torn and tattered cover. “I asked your mom if she had any of your old stuff when I talked to her last week. She was more than happy to send over a whole box of books. A lot of them are yours.”

Crap, now the ugly tears really do fall, but only for a second before another thought dawns on me. “Wait, you talk to my mother?” I stop the tears with a sharp sniffle.

Ryan tries to look cool, but he is so busted. “She asked for my number before she left the other week. She said you don’t answer her calls.”

I can only shake my head in disbelief. Except I’m really not all that surprised. My mother apparently loves Ryan. As if this could get any more complicated.

I’m suddenly struck with some type of muscle spasm that feels like someone flicking my stomach from the inside. I grab my stomach and freeze. “Oh my god!”

In a flash Ryan is by my side, looking panicked. “What happened? Are you ok?”

“I think I just felt the baby kick.” I pause, assessing any further reaction. “Ah! There it is again!” I grab onto Ryan’s hand and place it over my belly.

He furrows his brow, clearly not feeling anything, but after a few seconds he flinches in surprise. “Fuck! How cool is that?” Without removing his hand, he looks at me and beams.

My smile must also be a mile wide. “I think he likes his room.”

Ryan

Twenty-eight Weeks

“H
oly. Mother. Of. Fuck.”

I watch the screen as a slimy, bloody, wrinkled blob emerges from a sacred place that should never, ever look like a disturbing murder scene.

Kelley and I are sitting in a dark room at the health center with about a dozen other couples, watching the most terrifying piece of cinematic cruelty known to man—birth.

I think I’m about to puke, but I can’t look away.

Thank god the torture finally ends and the instructor flips on the lights. Except once you’ve seen it, you can’t
un
see it.

“Well, I hope everyone enjoyed that!” The young, bubbly nurse looks tickled fucking pink to have shown us that monstrosity.

“Are you kidding me?” I blurt heatedly.

The nurse looks caught off guard and tilts her perky little head. “Excuse me?”

“Why the fuck didn’t anybody show us this
before
we’re about to live it? I mean show that to a fifteen year old and he’ll wait until he’s ninety to wave his dick at a girl.” A majority of the other scared shitless, soon-to-be dads nod furiously in agreement.

Kelley giggles beside me. “Seriously, Brooks. I am so fucking sorry your vag has to go through that.” I give her a solemn look, honestly feeling like a complete toolbag to have done this to her. And they expect me to stick my face down there to watch and then cut some umbilical cord shit?

“I assure you that when it’s your own child the entire experience is extremely magical. You’ll be so focused on your beautiful new baby that you won’t even notice all of the yucky stuff.” The nurse waves her hand at me dismissively before launching into the next part of the class.

Yeah, fat fucking chance of that, lady.

One long hour later Kelley and I are headed back out to my truck.

“You ok there, Blake? You look a little pale. If you’re having second thoughts we can talk about it . . .” Kelley’s concerned tone snaps me from my distracted thoughts. If I’m feeling this freaked out, I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. But I’m also smart enough to know I need to convince her I can handle this enough for the both of us. She has enough to worry about having to push that baby out of her, I don’t want her worrying I’m going to flake on her.

“Me? I’m fine.”
Fucking terrified.

“You sure? You seemed pretty worked up in there. I thought that poor nurse was going to cry when you said both
fuck
and
dick
in the same outburst. Or punch you. Either would have been amusing.”

I open the passenger door and help her into her seat. “Serves her right. She could have warned us it was going to be so graphic. I’m just saying they should consider using that video in sex ed classes.” I close her door and make my way to the driver’s side.

“So you’re sure you’re ready for this?” Kelley asks as I put my keys in the ignition, roaring the truck to life.

“Of course I’m fucking ready.” I snicker and pull out of the parking lot.

I’m so not fucking ready.

Later that night, after Kelley goes to sleep, I find myself alone in the nursery, swaying back and forth as I sit in the rocking chair. It’s dark, the only light coming from the streetlights outside the window. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I picture things from my past . . . things I hate remembering.

Eleven Years Ago

“Man, I fucking need to get laid tonight. Think one of those bitches is willing?”

Johnny nods toward the main house where a party is raging. We’re sitting in lawn chairs way out in the backyard, getting wasted, as usual. I take another big swig from the bottle of booze gripped in my hands. I shrug and lay my head back, enjoying the blissful, numbing feeling that overtakes my body.

“You want in?” Johnny motions for me to join, but I shake my head.

“Nah, I’m good. This shit’s all I need.” My words are already slurring as I hold up the bottle to take another drink.

“Suit yourself, bro.” Johnny downs and tosses his own beer can to the side before stumbling off to a group of girls standing on the back porch.

I have no real concept of time, but a while later I realize my bottle is empty. I hold it upside down with my mouth open underneath, hoping to catch a few last drops. My head is dizzy and my vision is blurred, but I can see the lights from the house in the distance. I push myself out of my chair, wobbling at the sudden shift of my weight.

I stagger to the house and when I get inside I look around, feeling disoriented by the music and the people. I assume things have died down from when we got here, but fuck if I can remember. I see Johnny passed out on the couch with a topless girl sprawled on top of him. I get in his face and loudly ask, “Dude, where the fuck is my sister? I need to go.”

The reason I came here in the first place was because I knew Hazel would be here hanging out with her piece of shit friends. She told me to go to hell and stop following her so I decided to get shit-faced instead. That always seems like the best idea. It’s the only way to get my mind off shit.

Johnny squints as he tries to open his eyes and groans. “Fuck, I don’t know man.” He rolls over and passes back out.

I stumble down one of the hallways, trying to find her. Suddenly I hear screaming—that sounds a lot like Hazel—coming from one of the last rooms at the far end of the hall. I push the door open to see Hazel hitting Tristan and screaming at him to leave her alone. She’s wearing a tight black mini-dress that is way too fucking short, revealing the fact her back and arms are covered with tattoos. A man who’s known as Dougie D sits on the bed with two girls laying next to him, some of his other drug dealer friends off to the side. I can tell they’re stoned out of their minds by the way they stare stupidly as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on. I immediately try to tackle Tristan, but trip over my own feet. Fuck, I wish the room would stop spinning.

“What the hell, Blake.”

I shuffle to my feet and push him as hard as I can. “Stay the fuck away from her, Sharp, or I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

“Ryan, stop! Please.” Hazel begs as tears stream down her face. “Please, just take me home.”

I sway back and forth as I try to steady myself. “Let’s fucking go.” I try to grab Hazel’s arm and make for the door, but Tristan steps in my way.

“There is no way in hell you can drive, Ry. Let me take you guys.”

I throw Tristan’s arm off of my shoulder. “Fuck you. I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

I try to fight him off, but he’s sober and I’m fucking loaded so clearly he has the upper hand.

I try to remember more from that night and wish I could say it was the worst of it.

But I don’t, and it wasn’t.

Ten Years Ago

“Well, Ryan, today’s the big day. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

Dr. Setter signs my discharge papers before indicating for me to do the same.

I hesitate for a second, chewing wildly on a piece of cinnamon gum—my new coping mechanism—before scrawling my signature across the bottom of the page. My right knee bobs up and down faster than a jackhammer.

Dr. Setter looks at me before asking, “Nervous?”

I grunt, shifting in my seat. “Gee, how can you tell?”

Dr. Setter removes his glasses. “It’s perfectly normal, Ryan. In fact, it’s good you feel that way. Many of our patients convince themselves they don’t need rehab in the first place, so it’s easy to think getting back out in the real world for the first time is no big deal. The fact that you’ve come to terms with your alcoholism means you recognize it as a weakness. And as long as you know that, you can beat it.”