Fool for Love (Believe #2) (50 page)

“You’ve changed over the years, haven’t you?” I ask him, keeping my voice low.

He nods.

“In both good and bad ways, I guess.”

“Since I wore you down, I’ve only seen the good.” I bend down until my mouth hovers over his. “You’re a good man, Garrett Matteo Thompson.”

Before he can protest like he always does when I get sappy, I trace the seam of his lips with my tongue. On a low groan, he angles his head and opens his mouth, inviting me in to play, and I place my elbows next to his head. He wraps his arms around me, pulling my chest flush to his, and for a moment, we simply become lost in each other again.

When I come up for air, I lick my lips.

“You’re really great at this whole
‘making out’
thing,” I tease.

He laughs, the low rumble that makes me go all fluttery inside. The tenderness in his eyes mixed with passion is a look that suits him so well, and I hope it’s one I’ll see gazing back at me more and more often in the future.

“Why did you get a dragonfly tattoo?” he asks me.

I shrug.

“Because it also symbolises change and growth, I guess. Even before I came to New York, I knew that something inside me was changing.”

Feeling a bit drowsy, I let out a long sigh and move to lie down next to him, untangling our legs.

“I just didn’t know in what way.”

I rest my arm across his abdomen, reaching out to follow the lines on the ink on his wrist.

“And have you come to any conclusions yet?” he murmurs.

I raise my eyes to take in face. His eyes are shut – the grooves in in his cheeks aren’t as noticeable as usual – and the small smile grazing his lips causes warmth to spread in my core.

He always looks so young when he’s relaxed. Not like my protective wolf at all.

“Only that we’re always changing in some way,” I whisper. “I don’t want to become one of those people who’ll never stop avoiding new things at all costs.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’ll ever happen,” he whispers.

“Even so…let’s just call it my own private reminder to always keep an open mind.”

I don’t know if he takes in my words, because as soon as I stop talking, he begins to snore. I suppress a giggle and then yawn.

A nap right now might be a good thing.

I place my leg over his hip and tuck my head under his chin.

My favourite place to fall asleep is just like this – as close to Garrett as I can get. I might wake up at night, all sweaty and uncomfortable from the tingling in my hands, and then roll away from him.

Still…this right here?

It’s perfect.

What makes it infinitely better is when Garrett always pulls me closer even though he’s asleep.

That takes it from perfect to heaven in a matter of seconds.

“F
OR FUCK’S SAKE,
R
OWAN
, when are you going to stop doing this to yourself?” I bark into the phone as I pace around in my kitchen, dinner completely forgotten.

“Do what?” he slurs.

I grit my teeth.

“Don’t play stupid, pup,” I warn him.

Laughter is the only answer he gives me, and I curse under my breath.

This ends now.

“If you don’t get yourself sobered up right this fucking minute, I’m coming down to the club, and I’ll beat the fucking shit out of you.”

“Argh, give it a rest, old man,” he chuckles, but that’s definitely the wrong answer.

“Consider this my last warning, Rowan,” I seethe. “Oh, and by the way, Suzy isn’t going to work for you anymore.”

“What the fuck?! Since when does she let you speak for her?”

That got his attention.

“You heard me. As long as you can’t be trusted, and as long as you keep poisoning your body with that piece of shit, she’s
not
going to get within ten feet of you.”

I glance quickly in the direction of the bathroom, trying to calm down. I breathe a small sigh in relief, glad that Suzy’s still in the shower. If she could hear me making this kind of decision for her, there’d be hell to pay.

“Fine,” Rowan clips in my ear, and while I don’t exactly trust him, that’ll have to do for now.

“Good. And Rowan?”

He doesn’t answer, so I repeat his name, this time sharper.

“What?” he clips.

“Get yourself checked into rehab. I don’t care where, but I’ll pay for it. Just get…the fuck…
clean
. You hear me?”

“You’re not my fucking parents, Garrett. I’m a grown man, I do what I want.”

The way he sounds like a petulant child right now grates on my nerves.

“No man commits suicide, Rowan, and that’s what’ll happen
to you
if you don’t get help.”

“You forget that you were where I am now not that long ago, wolf!” he shouts.

I close my eyes briefly, letting the shame of my past wash over me.

“Yes. But you forget one thing, Rowan.”

“Oh, really?” He snorts. “And what’s that?”

“I realised what I was doing to myself – to my
family
– and I couldn’t live with myself knowing that if I hadn’t gotten clean, my parents would have to bury another child. I couldn’t do that to them.”

Silence greets me.

And then the sobs set in.

“I don’t know how to get out,” Rowan’s broken cries tear through me, hitting me right in my gut.

“Let me help you, man. If you want me to, I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to say the word, Rowan. Say
‘yes’
.”

More silence, and I hold my breath, trying to be patient. This is the first time he’s ever considered my offer, and I pray that
this
is the moment where he breaks completely. The moment when he realises that he’s sick. That he can’t just quit his addiction without getting the right help.

“I…I’ll think about it,” he whispers.

The hope plummets to the floor, broken into tiny pieces.

Again.

“Don’t take too long, pup,” I grumble, letting him hear the depth of my disappointment. “You could be dead tomorrow.”

“Fuck you,” he spits out.

I roll my shoulders, trying to get the tension to ease up.

“Fine, have it your way, Rowan. And I’ve changed my mind. You need to find a new bartender no matter what, because I’m not letting Suzy step foot inside the club until I know for a fact that you’re clean.”

Not waiting for an answer, I end the call. The pain in my heart intensifies and I rest my arms on the kitchen counter, letting my head fall as the sorrow and failure surge through me.

“Honey?”

I glance in Suzy’s direction, not even having the strength inside to lift my head.

“What is it?” she asks me, stopping on the other side of the bar.

She’s only wearing her robe, makeup and hair already done for the night, and I clench my teeth.

“I was trying to get Rowan to admit that his drug addiction is killing him, but he didn’t listen. For a brief moment, I thought I had him – that he would
finally
seek help – but I was wrong.” Sighing, I push back, my temper rising like a volcano inside me once more.

“I’m sorry, Garrett.”

I rub a hand on my forehead, the urge to break something, anything, drawing closer to the surface.

“He’ll fucking die!” My fist lands hard on the counter, but I don’t register the pain.

I wince when Suzy jumps from the sound of my voice. “I’m sorry, waif. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m alright.” She comes closer and when she puts her arms around me, hugging me tightly, the anger and pain in my heart ease up a little.

“I don’t know anything about addictions, honey,” Suzy whispers as she tightens her grip around me. “But I do know that you’ll have to
want
the help someone’s offering you. That you’ll have to hit rock bottom. Otherwise, it won’t happen.”

Sadness fills me even though I know she’s right.

“My dad is the reason I got into rehab,” I whisper.

She steps back but doesn’t let go. The compassion in her eyes gives me the strength I need to tell her my story. Or this part of it, at least.

There are some things that I’ll never tell her, though.

“I wasn’t an addict for that many years, actually. I dabbled a bit when I was young, but nothing serious. But as I grew older, more desperate to forget my memories, I began to use them more. So I went out almost every night, leaving
Mama Rosa’s
mostly in the care of Carlos. I partied with Rowan, and Donna, at the club, then bought it when the previous owner couldn’t keep it up and running…” I rest my hand against her neck, needing to feel her pulse – her
life
– against my skin.

“Keep going,” she whispers.

I take a deep breath, a bit surprised when I feel the tremor.

“I don’t know who Rowan’s supplier was, or is, but the soft drugs quickly excelled until I was deep in the claws of cocaine. The high is one unlike any I’d ever experienced before – it’s all-consuming, but only works for a brief amount of time. Before I knew it, I needed more…”

I clam up, unwilling to go into too many details.

“How did your dad know about the drugs?”

Her question gives me the opening I need to fast forward a couple of years.

“He’d seen me when I was high. The way I acted around him and mom was far from normal anymore; I lost weight, didn’t care about how I looked anymore. I was wired, constantly on edge. Paranoid.”

I frown, my eyes falling on her lips as my thumb runs across them.

“He knew something was wrong and showed up here one evening. I was close to hitting rock bottom at the time, but the main reason I came to my senses, ending up asking him for help, was the devastated expression in his eyes, and the words he spoke.”

I stop as I remember that night, unsure if I can continue.

“What did he say?” she whispers.

“In many ways, this was just as bad as the night of the crash,” I say instead of answering her question. “It was horrible, waif.” I release another shaky breath, relenting to the promise I made not so long ago.

To not hold back from her anymore – to give her all of me.

“I’ll never forget the sorrow I could hear in his voice. He said,
‘Are you going to force your mama and me to go through with another funeral, Garrett? To bury one more son? To break our hearts?’
”

She leans up on her toes and rests her cheek on mine, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“I broke down,” I whisper, remembering the sobbing mess I became. “I fell into a heap on the floor, snot running from my nose, howling like a baby. It felt like hours, but it probably wasn’t. I don’t know how long I let my dad hold me, but what I remember is that he never let go of me. He just let me cry and rave, never letting me go.”

I straighten to gaze into her eyes that are now brimming with tears.

I clear my throat to get rid of the lump that seems lodged there.

“The next day, he made the arrangements, packed my suitcases, and drove me to the airport. He told me he’d taken a couple of days off work and went with me. He made sure I was settled in, and then he left so I could break free of my addiction on my own.”

Suzy cradles my head in her hands.

“Thank you for trusting me, honey,” she whispers. “For sharing such an agonising memory.”