STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (4 page)

“Busted into a million fucking pieces, dude,” he tells me, face pinched.

“Judge, I need it.”

“Stone. You’re in the damn hospital because you OD’d on who knows what, nearly burnt your damn house down, and you’re worried about your damn phone?” Judge asks, exasperation and anger making his tone harsh, grating on my nerves.

“Get me the fucking phone!” I demand as sternly as I can in my weakened state, my breathing becoming labored the more pissed I get.

“Hey, calm down. We’ll get you the phone. No worries, okay?” Law soothes. He knows me. Knows why it’s so important.

“Wha-what do you mean I nearly burnt my house down?” I ask them, trying to fight my way through the fog.

“You must have been smoking. You burned through a picture and it set off the alarm and when the security company couldn’t get a hold of you, they called me since I was next on the list. They sent out the cavalry, thank fuck. We met them here.” He looks at me and I can see the worry in his eyes still. “You scared the ever loving shit out of us, man.”

I don’t get the chance to reply, ask about the house, or even apologize to Law. The door opens and a doctor I think I remember from the last time I was awake comes in.

“Ah, Mr. Lockhart, you’re awake. Maybe we can keep you that way,” he says in a jovial, irritating as fuck voice. “Gentlemen, if you’ll leave us alone for a few minutes.” The Doctor dismisses them with a smile. As they walk to the door, Lawson assures me they won’t be far.

“Judge. Get me my phone.” With clenched fists I try to lighten my tone. “Please.” He looks like he’s about to argue and then nods and stalks out.

Turning to the doctor, I watch him warily. “Can you please unstrap me? I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

He glances up from his chart, “Weren’t you though?” Head cocked he watches me.

“No. I wasn’t. It was an accident.” I don’t know how much to even say to him. How much can I tell him without incriminating myself? I vaguely remember the police being in the room one of the times I came to. Can everyone just leave me the fuck be? Changing the subject I ask what I really want to fucking know. “When can I leave?” My head is swimming now. I grind my back teeth trying to fight the nausea that’s all of a sudden got me ready to hurl all over Dr. Gold.

“Well, that’s up to you, Stone. We’ve been slowly weaning you off of the meds for the last two days since you’re clearly breathing fine on your own. Now we wait for you to keep conscious for longer periods of time and you’ll have to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. It’ll be up to them, and you, when you can be discharged.” His smile is too bright, his tone condescending, and I want to punch him in the fucking face.

“Whatever,” I mutter. Then something he said registers with me, they’ve been giving me drugs. I’m sure not what I normally score but I’ll take whatever. “Can you give me something for the pain then?” The bitterness is there in my voice no matter how I try to bury it.

“I’m sorry, no. The attending psychiatrist will be in here shortly now that you’re up and actually communicating, and they’ll be in charge of your care and your meds. We’ve been weaning you off in order to help with your detoxification. The rest is up to him.” Glaring I watch as he straightens. “You’re a very lucky young man. This could have ended worse than it did. The amount of drugs in your system should have killed you. Would have killed you had you not been brought in as quickly as you were.” When I don’t express my gratitude or acknowledge what he sees as my luck, he closes the chart in his hand and hangs it on the foot of my bed with a clang. “Do you have any questions that I can answer for you, Mr. Lockhart?” I give a curt shake of my head. “I’ll let Dr. Risa know that she can come see you now.” And then he’s gone. Shoes squeaking across the floor as he exits.

Not sure why, but I test my restraints one more time. When they don’t budge, I just close my eyes and try to quiet my racing thoughts enough to go back to sleep. Or back into a coma. At least there I was allowed some fucking drugs.

“I’ve been in here for five fucking days. I want to go the fuck home, Law,” I shout. Pacing in front of the window of the too small hospital room.

“Dude. That’s not even an option right now. You have two choices: jail or rehab. That’s it. End of story,” Lawson tells me for the tenth God damn time. “Judge busted his balls working with the record label and the lawyers to get the charges against you dropped and that’s the only bargain they’re willing to make.” Arms folded across his chest, he has his feet planted wide like he thinks he’s Billy fucking bad ass. He’s not.

“I don’t need to go to fucking rehab,” I spit, scratching at the back of my neck and the prickling under my skin. “We’re supposed to be back on tour in a few days,” I remind him. Trying a different tactic.

“Tour’s been canceled until you get your shit clean, Stone. It’s not a negotiation.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a kid. I’m a grown ass man. A fucking rock star! I fuck who I want, I drink what I want, and I do whatever fucking shit I want.” My voice rises louder and louder until I’m yelling, veins bulging in my neck, and still, Lawson looks unfazed.

“Yeah, well, motherfucker, you’re not doing any of that now, are you? Where’s Willow, bro? You ain’t fucking her, that’s for damn sure. Can’t get any of that smooth ass whiskey you love so much in here or those fucking pills, and you damn sure can’t get any of that nose candy you’ve been trying to kill yourself with,” he bites out with a little more heat than before but still looking calm and collected as I stand here sweating and ready to throw the fuck up. “You keep living like a rock star you’re gonna die like a fucking rock star,” Lawson vows solemnly. “Now get your shit. The plane leaves in an hour. You check into rehab tonight. Judge pulled some strings, has you set up in a nice place called Paradise in Hawaii. Real fucking fancy. Has your alias and everything else taken care of already.”

“Law—”

“No other option, Stone. This is your only choice,” he interrupts. “Listen, if you ever want to get Willow back, you have got to be clean, man. I promise to hire someone different, someone more competent than the guy we have now, to find her while you’re working on you.” Holding out his hand to me he asks, “Deal?”

Turning away from him to stare out the window, still scratching at the skin that feels too fucking tight, I mumble, “Just take me to fucking Paradise.”

Willow

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! I’M GOING
to be so late,” I mutter as I weave in and out of traffic on the 401. It’s usually a two-hour drive to the university with traffic. I have an hour forty-five tops today and everyone and their damn mother seems to be in my way. Of course. It’s the first seminar I’ve been invited to speak at, why wouldn’t I be late? I wouldn’t even be going if I hadn’t committed to it months ago. Foot heavy on the accelerator, I sigh when my phone starts ringing. Seeing that it’s Perry, I hit the button on the steering wheel. “Hey, you, I can’t talk. I am so late it’s not even funny.” The second her voice fills the interior of the Jeep I know something’s wrong.

“Willow, you—you should come home, sweetie.”

“Home? Why, what happened? Lyric?” I ask her nervously, trying to keep the panic at bay. She sighs deeply.

“No, no. Lyric is fine. It’s him . . . Stone. He was found unresponsive at his house and is in the hospital.” Her tone is so gentle it aggravates me. I don’t know why but it grates on my suddenly raw nerves.

“That can’t be right, Perry. It’s probably one of those hoaxes that everyone thinks are so God damn cute.” Even as I say it I know it isn’t true. I want it to be. God, do I want it to be. But I know. I’ve been waiting for this call for eight months.

“I’m watching it on CP24 right now, Willow. They have news crews at your—his—house and everything. It’s for real.”

Hands shaking now, I pull off the exit I’m just about to pass, cutting people off and ignoring their blaring horns. A little ways down the road I park in front of a Tim Horton’s. “I gotta go . . .” My voice trails off as I disconnect the call. With ice running through my veins, I place a hand on my head, doing my best to rub away my fears. Blankly staring out the windshield, not seeing anything, I try to get my thoughts together. Taking a deep breath, I pick my phone up again and dial the only number I kept from my life with Stone. Addy was not only their assistant and right hand but also my best friend. I left her behind along with them, and it cut me just as deeply. She picks up on the third ring, and I can hear the truth in her meek, “Hello?”

“Addy? It’s me. It’s Willow. Is he—is he okay?” When she bursts into tears, I do too.

“Willow, oh my God. Oh my God, where are you? He’s bad. So bad,” Addy says as she sobs.

I can’t tell her where I am and I can’t go to him. No matter how badly I want to. Need to. I’m not strong enough to see him yet.

“How bad?” I whisper, ignoring the tears tracking down my face. I shouldn’t but I feel guilt. Immense fucking guilt. This was one of my greatest fears when I realized—no, admitted—that he was addicted to drugs. By the time I let myself accept it, it was too late and we were both too far gone. Too broken. And then that night happened and I just stopped feeling. A part of me died that night. A part of my heart, my soul. And now I’ve finally picked myself up off the floor and am working on piecing my life, me, back together, and I’m once again . . .
Stoned. “
Just tell me!
”
I demand, hoarsely.

I can hear her collect herself. Blowing out a deep breath, “He’s still unconscious. They found him at your house. There was a fire. They don’t know anything right now. You should come, Willow. He needs you. They all do. They—they think he did it on purpose. He was so sure you were at home waiting.” Addy’s voice cracks. Is she blaming me?

“Why? I haven’t spoken to him or anyone in months. Why would he assume I’d be at home?” Because he’s Stone, and if that night had never happened, I would have been. I’ve loved him so hard for so very long, I would have been waiting. But everything has changed. I’ve changed. He changed me. I’m just now starting to like the person I am again after . . . everything. “Are the guys up there with him? He’s not alone?” The band is the only family he’s had for a long time now aside from Judge and Lawson's mom, and a sister, Scarlet, who was adopted when they were only three and who now lives in London. They only see each other once a year at best.

“They’re all up there. You should really go, Willow. What if—what if he doesn’t make it?” She breaks down again, deep hiccupping sobs and I can’t. I can’t deal with it right now. I don’t know what to do as I sit in front of the coffee shop, tears still coming at an alarming rate, listening to my friend wail in fear and agony, and I don’t know what to do. I’m not numb, though I wish I could be. I feel the heaviness in my heart and chest like an elephant is there. An iron fist squeezing. I can’t go there. I’m needed here even more than he needs me.

“I can’t, Addy. For so many reasons, I can’t,” I cry. “I wish I could explain so that you could understand but I . . . just can’t.” Swallowing past the emotion in my throat I plead, “Please, please don’t tell them I called. It will only make things worse.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand, Willow. I know you though, and you wouldn’t stay away if you didn’t have reasons,” Addy sighs, “I’m going to have you added to the list at the hospital so that you can call and get his progress. You don’t have to go through anyone else, and nobody will know that you’ve been checking on him. I love you and miss you so very much, but I can’t lie to them when they’re all so worried about you, so this is best,” she says quietly, sniffling daintily.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, Addy. I shouldn’t put you in the middle. I miss you. I think about you always,” I ramble brokenly. Not ready to disconnect the call but not wanting to give her the opportunity to talk me into coming home. Home . . . is it? Stone was my home for so long. But not anymore. “I love you, Addy.” My voice cracks and a painful sob breaks through when she responds.

“I love you too. And miss you. We all do, Willow.”

Disconnecting the call, I cover my face with my hands and cry. I cry for me. I cry for Stone and the life we were supposed to have. I cry for the guys and Addy who all love him so much. I cry for the man I loved once and the man he became. I just . . . cry.