Chapter 5

As weeks turned to months,and then months into years, my coping faltered. Someone once told me there were five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

While I was sure this applied to a vast majority, I didn’t feel any of that. I was stuck in a sense of hopelessness that showed no signs of going away no matter how much time passed.

Every day I woke up felt like a chore.

Falling asleep was a nightmare.

It was all so pointless. I couldn’t escape the ghost of the man I loved.

The feelings worsened as the men around me began to fall in love.

The first to lose himself was Atticus. Not long after Clancy’s passing, Sean, a former ranch hand, showed back up. Apparently, he and Atticus had shared a night together many months prior, and Sean’s arrival reignited things between them.

In the midst of their figuring things out, Atticus found out the ranch was bleeding money. It was something even I hadn’t known, despite helping the prior Coleman owner with the books. Clancy had hidden the shortcomings so well I never noticed. That or I was too foolishly in love with him to pay close enough attention.

The men came up with an idea to host a market where we sold goods and invited the community out to enjoy the animals on the ranch. It was a risky move, especially given the initial investment.

To everyone’s surprise, the event did more than we could have hoped for. It was decided to continue the market monthly as a way to supplement the ranch’s income.

It was during the first market that the second man on the ranch found his person. Beau spotted Jackson, a hot single dad, and called dibs. Not literally, but he might as well have. They’ve been together pretty much ever since, and Beau is the best stepdad around.

After that, things felt like they’d evened out. At least they had until Bobby Allen found a man broken down on the side of the road with bruises on his face. Turned out that man was actual royalty from another country overseas who was on the run from his abusive family. Bobby Allen fell hard and fast, to the surprise of pretty much no one. He had a soft heart for the abused.

I thought things would be done after that. The only long-time ranch hands around were Corey and Harlan. Lars had left to go take care of his family, so he was out of the running. Corey liked people, though he never dated. And on the opposite end of things, Harlan didn’t like people and never dated.

Imagine my surprise when Dr. Griffin Hawkins showed up on the ranch with a smirk and a hard-on for Harlan. Much like Sean and Atticus, these two had history as well. History that rekindled boldly once Griffin and Harlan were in the same town again.

While all this went down, I focused on only two things — working and numbing the pain when I couldn’t work. The first was easy. I handled the accounting side of things for the ranch. Numbers made more sense than emotions these days. It was safe to stick with them. Numbing the pain took a bit more finesse. I had to test multiple methods before figuring out the thing that worked best.

Alcohol.

It was easy to get, fairly cheap, and no one questioned me having a drink at dinner. In fact, no one really questioned anything at all. Not for a very long time. Years, in fact.

But around the time Corey’s long-time pen pal showed up on the ranch to settle down after leaving the military, I’d become a full-time functioning alcoholic. At least, that’s what the doctors told me when I arrived at the rehab facility.

A facility funded by Clancy’s old friend Rhett and his husband Ean Garner. Yeah, as in the Ean Garner, mega movie star and LGBTQ+ activist. Though, I don’t think that’s his last name anymore since they’re married. I’m not sure.

Too much time disappeared. I lost time while being wrapped up in Clancy and our secret relationship. Then I lost more time when he got sick, and I worked to keep everything together. I lost the most time after he passed, and I sunk into the bottle.

The one thing I do remember is when it all came to light. I’d never known such shame as when my friends confronted me about my drinking.

I was sitting alonein the bunkhouse, my mind running over numbers from earlier in the day. I felt like something was off. It could have been a slight error, or I could be misremembering. I didn’t know. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I would have stood to go check.

What I really needed was a strong drink. Something with just enough kick to let me get some sleep in my own bed for once. I could only sneak out to the marker once or twice a week. Any more would make the others suspicious.

The door opened, revealing a somber-looking Atticus. He marched inside. Behind him was the rest of the crew. Like literally all of them.

”What”s going on?” I asked hesitantly. “Something happen?”

They all took their seats as if this was choreographed. I couldn’t imagine what in the world they needed to tell me that couldn’t be handled in a less awkward manner.

Once everyone was seated, Atticus stood back up and took off to the kitchen. When he came back, he held a box full of glass bottles with a well-known label on the side. I felt the color drain from my face. Atticus didn’t hesitate to step away to retrieve another box. This one had a different brand, though the item itself was the same.

How? How had they found this?

And why was I so fucking stupid that I kept them all?

“It’s not…” I started.

Sean spoke up when I couldn’t continue. “But it is, Gerald. What do you remember from last night?”

Last night? What the hell happened last night?

I shook my head as I pondered over the vague memories. ”You and I were talking. I”d had a bit to drink, and you said I should sleep in. Told me not to worry about it.”

Sean shook his head. ”That”s not exactly what happened. You”d been drinking a lot and got behind the wheel.”

”No. That”s not possible. I wouldn”t... I didn”t...”I took count of everyone in the room. They all had to be safe. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d hurt anyone.

”Sean and I pulled you out of that truck and put you to bed in your room. A few hours later, you were stumbling around with more alcohol in your system. You don”t remember any of that?”

Though Atticus’s voice was gentle, I felt each word like a strike. I didn’t want to continue this conversation. It all hurt too much.

But at the same time, I needed answers. I’d never done anything like this. I could hold my liquor. I wasn’t some lightweight.

It made no sense I’d get behind the wheel though. That was never part of the routine.

Drink until the numbness settled. Climb into bed. Sleep it off. Repeat the next evening. Those were the steps of my days. Not whatever this was.

”It”s all a blur. None of that sounds familiar. I didn”t think I had a problem. I just... Sometimes I can”t sleep.”

”How often is sometimes?” Atticus asked.

”A few times a week. But even when I do sleep, I wake up to nightmares.”

”Nightmares about my pops?”

I couldn’t hold back the flinch that hearing his name brought out. I could see some of the men staring at the reaction in shock. Their features distorted as if they were in pain watching me suffer. I’d become the live action piece of art that evoked tears and pain, my heartache clear to all.

”I can”t talk about him, Atticus. I don”t have the strength. Not now.” I’d have begged him for anything in that single moment so long as he didn’t say his father’s name.

While there were still times the men talked about him, his name had left our regular vocabulary. It was ‘pops’ or ‘the late Mr. Coleman’, both of which I could handle.

His name wasn’t.

I would fold in a heartbeat if I had to hear it — or worse, if I had to say it. After months and months of pleading with the universe to take the pain away, I’d only recently stopped saying his name. It held too much power over me.

”We”ve found a place that will help you. They specialize in grief and addiction. It”s a full-time thing, so we”d have to pack you some clothes and stuff. I”ll drive you myself, or you can get someone else to take you if you want.”

It was then I broke down, fierce sobs tearing from my chest. The more they had talked, the more I remembered. I hadn’t been trying to hurt anyone on the ranch. At least not anyone besides myself.

I’d had the bright idea I’d drive until I reached my little plot of land in the back. The tree there was just big enough that I knew the truck would wrap around it nicely. It would take a lot of speed, but with nothing but the field around it, I knew it was possible.

It was that thought— the one about taking my own life — that made me accept the offer to get help. If I’d gone through with my original plan, I’d have likely ended my own pain, but at the cost of bringing trauma to someone else.

One of my friends would have had to find me. And they’d have to explain over and over to people how I’d died. They’d know I’d given up, that I wasn’t strong enough to go on.

When people are married for a long time and one spouse dies, sometimes the other follows. People will say they ‘died of a broken heart’ or something similar.

The night before the intervention, I’d tried to let my broken heart win. And because of it, I found a different life entirely.

“Gerald!How lovely to see you. Are you here to have your hair done again?” Makyn, the friendly hairdresser who came to the facility every other week greeted me in the common area.

I nodded slowly as I stepped forward. “I’d like that, please. I’m set to get out of here before your next visit. Want to clean up a bit.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, my! I can’t believe you’re almost out of here. I feel like it’s flown by.”

“I wish I could say the same. Not about you. Just about time. It still feels like every day is a battle.”

“That’s life, hun. We all have some kind of vice. Mine is dark chocolate and doctors. Can’t resist either,” he told me sagely.

I snorted a laugh as I moved to sit on the stool he pointed me to. His mobile setup wasn’t like what you might see out in a salon in the traditional sense, though it did have some of those things. There was a bowl attachment next to the sink in the corner where he’d wash hair. He had a chair that pivoted and lifted as needed for him to cut hair. And he definitely had a million and one tools to get the styles everyone here wanted.

When he first showed up, I honestly had no idea what to make of him. He was a tiny man with a large personality. It reminded me a lot of Beau, which of course, made me miss home. Then he opened his mouth and all that sweetness poured out. It was the perfect combination of familiar and new. I didn’t miss home quite as much when he visited.

Besides, Makyn talked enough for me to forget about anything else but him. Like today, he went on and on about this new doctor he’d met while out getting his take out. He swears the man was meant to be in his path for the eye candy alone.

“So fate is filling lust requests now?” I teased once he slid the cape over my front. He clipped it in the back, then leaned over my shoulder with a grin.

“You’re in a good mood today, huh? I like it. This sparkle works for you.”

I blinked away the tears that almost came. He didn’t know how true his words were. While I didn’t think a short stint in rehab would be the end of my troubles, I knew enough to understand how truly blessed I was to be in this facility.

Unlike other places, this rehabilitation center offered only the best to its clientele. I had round-the-clock care from a doctor and a team of psychologists. The food was amazing, and my bed was damn near the best I’d ever slept in.

On top of all that, they truly wanted to help people. I wasn’t under the illusion that a single stay would fix things. There was more to my problem than simply picking up a bottle of alcohol that first time. I had suppressed a lot of feelings in regard to my past, and if I ever wanted to get better, I needed to face them all.

Which I planned to do with time.

The first step of figuring it all out involved a haircut. So I did just that. I let Makyn have free rein to give me something new for my fresh start.

After I was cleaned up enough to be presentable, I went to speak with my doctor about my transition into non-rehab life. We discussed my plans, and he gave me the information I’d requested on our last visit.

Information that meant I was going to do something I hadn’t done in a long time.

I was starting over. This time, in the city.

There were too many memories at the Coleman Ranch for me to find solace there. Not yet at least.

So the home I’d known for most of my adult life would change. Trading in views of the night sky, hay bales, and the land I loved for pavement, loud noise, and more people than I’d ever seen in one place felt daunting.

But if I wanted to know what I was truly capable of, I knew this was how it had to be.

Lookout world — here comes Gerald Grimes.