Until Tomorrow: A Flirting With Trouble Novel (14 page)

“I don’t know. I am assuming he mixed some shit—pills and beer or some sort of similar combination. And I found syringes.”

She shakes her head. “God, Cars. I am so, so sorry.”

I swallow back the lump that’s rising in my throat. I can’t respond to that for fear that the tears might overtake me. Cyn must realize that, because she silently takes my hand and leads me back to the chairs. We sit down, holding hands, and Cyn squeezes mine hard. I squeeze back with a little less force.

“God, I hate the fucking hospital.”

We look up to see Rainey, who’s got her hands on her hips and an irritated expression on her face.

“I mean, who do I have to fuck to get a decent parking spot around here?”

I grin at her. “I’m not sure, but I bet I could find out for you.”

She steps in to lean down and hug me, which is when I see Wyatt behind her. He’s got a rumpled look, like he’d already fallen asleep when he’d gotten the call. He shoots me a sexy half grin then wheels a little closer.

“If you’d wanted to spend the night with me, you could’ve just asked,” he quips, winking at me. Rainey flops down in the chair next to Cyn, allowing Wyatt to get closer. Once he’s in arm’s reach, he practically scoops me up out of the chair and into his lap. At first, I stiffen, unwilling to relax into him for fear that I’ll actually lose it.

But there’s no holding it back, and then the dam just bursts.

“It’s okay, Carson,” Wyatt half croons as he strokes my hair. I let the tears tumble down my cheeks and onto his shirt, making the black fabric even blacker. I bury my face in his shoulder and just let go—completely and in all ways. I can feel the muscles in my body, so tense with worry, begin to loosen and unknot. I open my mouth and let the choked sobs be heard.

“Let it out, baby,” he murmurs into my hair. “Let it all go.”

For several long minutes, I just let myself cry—I cry for Lennon and for my mother, I cry for the situation I’ve found myself in. I cry for me. I cry for Wyatt. I cry until the tears no longer flow and my sobbing has dwindled into a sniffle.

“Better?”

I look up at Wyatt and he smiles at me, his expression gentle. I nod.

“Apparently I needed that.”

He cracks a smile. “Yeah, apparently you did.”

“Carson?”

I glance up to see my mother standing before us, looking confused as all get out. I suppose my sitting on a guy’s lap—when the guy is a stranger to her and in a wheelchair—is probably a pretty strange sight.

“Mom—hi.” I move to stand and gesture down at Wyatt. “This is my . . . this is Wyatt. Wyatt, this is my mom, Sandy Tucker.”

Wyatt reaches out a hand and my mom takes it. His smile is warm and I sort of marvel at that—that he’s here at all, when my brother has already been such an absolute dick to him on more than one occasion.

Which is when it occurs to me that he’s here for me—that despite the discomfort or even anger that my brother may have caused him in the past, Wyatt is here for me and me alone. To support me.

It’s kind of a revelation. Up until now, I think I always felt like a third wheel, or invisible. I never got the sense that I had a niche anywhere in this world, and certainly not a partner in crime. Nothing just for me, no one whom I came first with.

But Wyatt might be the closest thing I’ve ever had to that partner. He feels like more than a boyfriend. The way we fit together? The way we hold each other up? Well, if I believed in hokey shit, I might even say we could be soul mates.

“Mrs. Tucker?”

We all turn to see a doctor standing several feet away. He’s wearing hospital scrubs and has a mask pulled down to reveal a neatly trimmed beard and pleasant expression.

“That’s me,” my mom says, hurrying toward the doctor. “How is my son? Can I see him?”

The doctor holds up both hands in a gesture I assume is meant to calm hysterical parents and loved ones.

“Your son is going to be just fine. We had to pump his stomach and he’s now receiving saline intravenously to hydrate his system. He’s very lucky your daughter found him when she did—had he completely metabolized the alcohol and drugs in his system, it might have been a fatal overdose.”

“Oh my god.” Mom sinks down into a chair, her hand pressed to her mouth. She looks legitimately horrified and I go to sit next to her. I squeeze her shoulder, then look back at the doctor.

“Will we be able to see him tonight?”

The doctor nods. “We need to keep him overnight to make sure he stays stable and that the substances are completely out of his system. However, you are more than welcome to come in and say hello. He’s conscious—just a bit groggy.”

Mom stands to follow the doctor, then turns to me.

“Are you coming?” I glance back at my friends, then at Wyatt. He smiles and Cyn makes a motion that says “shoo.”

“Go see your brother—we’ll be here when you get out.”

I bite my lip, forcing myself not to start crying again, then take my mother’s arm.

“Come one, Mom. Let’s go see Lennon.”

But as we walk through the automatic doors and into the somewhat organized chaos of the emergency room, I realize that, like Wyatt, I’m here on behalf of someone else. I’ve put aside my own feelings about Lennon in favor of helping my mom deal with this situation.

Because the truth is, whether I want to admit it or not, I wouldn’t be here on my own. If it were up to me, I would make Lennon pay for his sins in a way that would hurt him. I hate admitting that. It makes me sound like a terrible person, and I know it. But the only reason I’m here is for my mother. And, for her, I’ll go see my drug-addicted brother in the ER and try, once again, to convince him to get clean.

But my best efforts? Yeah, they’ll only last about fifteen minutes.

The doctor leads us back to one of the few actual rooms in the Emergency Room, not the curtained areas where most people are housed, and opens the door. There is my brother, eyes closed and looking pale, lying in the bed. My mother practically dives for him, running to his bedside and blubbering something that seems like a cross between an apology and a prayer.

Lennon’s eyes flutter a bit before he opens them fully. The whites are bloodshot and his lips are dry and chapped. As he realizes we’re here, he clears his throat and the sound is scratchy and almost painful.

“Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy. Mom bursts into tears and presses her hands over his clammy forehead and cheeks.

“Oh, my little boy. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so, so glad you’re okay.”

She leans in and puts her head on his chest, bawling as though he were on his deathbed now rather than out of harm’s way. I stand at the foot of the bed with my hands shoved in my jeans pockets and rock back and forth on my heels.

“Hey Carson,” he says. He smiles and I notice that he’s missing two of his bottom teeth—a result, no doubt, of his drug use. There hadn’t been time to see that at the Factory. I give him a tight smile.

“I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”

It’s not a lie or anything, but my words lack conviction and I know it. Lennon knows it, too. His eyebrows shoot up and he gives a chuckle that turns into a cough.

“I’m surprised you’re even here, sis,” he finally says once the rasping has subsided. “I figure you’ve been wishing for my death for years now.”

“Lennon Andrew!” My mother raises her head and stares at him, appalled. “You can’t say things like that.”

I snort. “Yeah, he can, Mom. Don’t you get it? Lennon can do whatever he wants whenever he wants—even cheat death.”

“Lennon, you are alive because of your sister! She’s the one who found you and called 911.”

My brother licks his lips then pins me with a glare.

“She doesn’t give a shit about me. We all know it.”

I blink at Lennon, who is wearing an expression that’s a cross between irritated and indignant. Then I start to laugh.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I wave both hands in front of me in mock-surrender. “I’m done—I will give you a call later. Take care of yourself.”

And, with that, I spin on my heel and leave the room. Behind me, I hear my mother’s tone as she scolds my brother in the exact same way that she would admonish a child or even a puppy. I don’t hear Lennon’s response and, frankly, I don’t care. I don’t what to know what he has to say or what his excuse would be for why he’s an absolute asshole of the lowest order. I don’t need to hear anything from him. I’m done. For good.

I push on the automatic doors, trying to get them to open faster. Once I’m back out in the waiting room, Rainey takes one look at my face and hops up to standing.

“We need to find a bar. Stat.”

Cyn and Wyatt both look at me and their eyes widen. I guess I must look scary. With the amount of rage surging through me, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if I did.

“What happened?” Cyn asks. I shake my head.

“Nothing that a vodka tonic with extra lime can’t fix.”

She nods, then glances a Rainey. “You want to hit up Dino’s for burgers? They’re open until 2 am.”

Rainey grins. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Lead the way.”

Wyatt cocks his head and smiles up at me. “Mind if I ride with you? I came over with these lovely ladies, but I think you could benefit from some venting time.”

I nod. “Yeah. That would be great. Just be forewarned—there’s gonna be a lot of cursing and a lot of complaining.”

Wyatt shrugs. “I can guarantee I’ve heard worse. Hell, I can guarantee I’ve done worse.”

“Good.” I grin. “Then let’s get the fuck out of this hospital. If I have to stay in this place another minute, I think I might lose my mind.”

***

Unfortunately, even after a double jalapeno burger and two vodka tonics, I’m still feeling livid. More than just livid, I’m feeling a sense of frustration that I can’t remember ever experiencing. Sure, I’m somewhat used to my fucked-up family dynamic—I mean, hell, Lennon’s never even lived on his own. But, that being said, I’m not used to this sense of loss—the feeling that my brother has somehow trumped me in a way that makes me stay away from my own mother.

I don’t know how things got this bad.

“Shots?”

I glance over at Rainey, who has her eyebrows raised. I shake my head, forcing myself to resist.

“I have to drive.”

Rainey gives me a sad smile, then pats my shoulder.

“How about dessert then? Brownie sundae? Root beer float?”

I grin at her. “Are you trying to fatten me up? Or bribe me?”

“Both?” she asks with a smile. I chuckle at her.

“Fair enough. But no, I think I’m just going to finish this drink and take Wyatt back to Holly Fields.”

“Oh, well, in that case!”

She starts making a “check please” motion to the bartender and I elbow her.

“Quit it! For fuck’s sake!”

She shrugs. “Hey, the faster I can get you laid, the better of a friend I’ll be. It’s like . . . science. Or something.”

She flits off then to talk to Cyn and Smith, who decided to meet us for dinner before his shift. I look over at him, then bite my lip. The truth is that going to the police isn’t something I ever felt like I’d need to consider. But now?

I walk over to my best friend’s boyfriend and place a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Smith—I have a . . . law enforcement related question for you. Would you mind if we spoke in private?”

Smith nods. “Of course.” He leans over and kisses Cyn’s cheek. “I’ll be right back, baby.”

“So, what’s up?” Smith asks. He grabs a stool close to the door and motions for me to do the same. Tentatively, I sit down.

“I wanted to ask your advice about a situation,” I begin slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable. “It’s about my brother, Lennon.”

Smith’s smile falters a bit and he nods. “Cyn told me he was pretty bad off. I hope things get better.”

I shrug. “Honestly, Lennon’s health and well-being are the least of my worries right now. I’m sorry if that comes off harsh.”

He shakes his head. “No, I get it. It’s really hard to love someone who wants the bottle or needle or pill in his life more than you. My dad was that way. I know how you feel.”

I shove a hand back through my hair, letting the strands spike up and out in all directions.

“What I’m really concerned about is my mom—or, more specifically, my mom’s house and possessions. I’m pretty damn sure Lennon’s been dealing out of her basement. I just want to protect her from getting her assets seized or her house confiscated if he ends up getting caught.”

Smith swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he does.

“Well, here’s the thing about that—there are a multitude of factors regarding whether or not your mom could be held accountable. If they can prove she was aware of the drugs—the use or the selling, but the selling especially—then they could hold her accountable in the long run.”

I chew my bottom lip. “Does that mean she could lose the house?”

“Well, that’s more about the fine. If she’s required to pay a fine and it’s a shitload of money, she may have to put up the house for collateral.”

The heavy pit in my stomach begins to spread into more of an ache and I think I might keel over or vomit. Smith reaches over and pats my shoulder.

“Look, the best thing you can do at this point is try to convince your mom to get your brother out of there—I mean, best-case scenario, Lennon gets clean. But until then, you should at least attempt to get him out of that house so that she doesn’t risk losing what she has.”

I nod, then swallow hard.

“Thanks, Smith. Seriously. I appreciate your help.”

Cyn walks up behind him and loops an arm first through his crooked elbow, then through mine.

“What’s with the long faces?” she asks, glancing from Smith to me, then back. I shake my head and force a smile.

“Nothing—just asking a few questions about some legal stuff. No big deal.” I slap both hands against the thighs of my jeans and push up to standing. “I’m honestly beat at this point and I think I’m going to head home.” Cyn pouts a bit, pushing her bottom lip out. “Really? I was hoping we’d get a chance to actually chat. I feel like I never even see you anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” I lean in to hug her. “I’ll call you later in the week.”

Over her shoulder, I see Wyatt chatting with two girls who walked in a few minutes after we did. His smile is polite but their smiles are far more intimate, more suggestive. Not to mention the tits that are spilling out of their tops. I pull back from Cyn.

“Thanks for coming out. Both of you.” I include Smith in my gratitude, then smooth a hand over my tight jeans as I head in Wyatt’s direction. He can see me coming and I can’t help but relish the flare of light, of heat, that enters his eyes when he sees me approaching.

“Carson.” He lets his eyes skim over the girls in front of him in a briefest way, then land back on me. “These ladies were fans of my band. They were just telling me that they’re still advertising for a drummer.”

I frown at him, the girls practically disappearing in my periphery. “What do you mean? Why would they be advertising for a drummer?”

He shrugs. “Well, they didn’t want to break up. When I told them I wasn’t coming back, it kind of made waiting for me a little pointless.”

“You should, like, totally go back. You were the hottest drummer ever.”

The blonde dips her head and lets her long locks fall over one shoulder. I can’t help but roll my eyes as I push past them.

“I’m sure he’ll take your opinions into consideration,” I say to them sweetly. “But for now, he needs to go ahead and take me home and fuck me.”

I meet their gazes, blinking innocently, and Wyatt snorts a laugh as they turn on their heels and sashay to the other side of the bar. When I glance back at Wyatt with one brow cocked, he’s shaking his head.

“What?” I ask, shrugging. He grins.

“Absolutely nothing. Come on, gorgeous. Let’s kick rocks. I’ve never wanted to take anyone home and fuck them more than I do right now.”

I bark a laugh as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. For the first time since I found my brother, I feel something like joy and I want to cling onto it as hard as I possibly can. I want to run away with it and never come back.

Wyatt buckles in and stares out the windshield as I back up in the gravel lot, then pull out onto the main road.

“Carson?”

“Hmm?”

“What were you asking Cyn’s boyfriend about?”

I glance over at him, then back at the road. “How do you know I was asking him anything?”

Wyatt doesn’t say anything at first. In my peripheral vision, I see him shrug.

“I could tell by your facial expression, I guess. It seemed like you were looking for an answer from him about something.”

I sniff. “Well, that’s pretty damn perceptive for a few minutes’ conversation.”

“What can I say? I watch you a lot—I’m getting to know your looks.”

I can’t help but grin at that. “Oh, are you now?”

“Yeah. I am.”

I lick my bottom lip before responding. Finally, I sigh.

“I was asking him about my mom and my brother—mostly if my mom could get in trouble for my brother’s drug bullshit. Like if she could lose her home and that kind of stuff.”

“And what’d he say?” Wyatt asks.

“That she needs to kick his ass to the curb—that he’s fucking thirty years old and he needs to start his own damn life.”

Wyatt sort of snorts a laugh. “He said all that?”

“Well, not really. But he said I should focus on getting Lennon out of the house so that my mom isn’t held accountable for his fucked-up mistakes.”

Wyatt is quiet for a long moment and I can tell he wants to say something. I don’t know how I know, but I know.