Chapter 23

23

PORTER

I was worried. There was no escaping the narrative that was playing out in my head. This brother of Gina's, whoever he was, I knew him, because I'd been him. He was strung out, traumatized. He had gotten himself into something nasty that couldn't be solved, and he was reaching out to his family as a last resort. I knew him so well because he had been me not that long ago.

It also now made perfect sense why Mr. Matthews was so patient with me. He probably looked at me and saw his son. He clearly wasn't able to help his son, so he tried his damndest to help me.

It was surprising how much most addicts had in common. I had been a dick to all the people in my life, letting my own illness get the better of me. It wasn't enough that Mike cared or that he had been to prison to protect me. I had thought I deserved it, that I was more important than my best friend. It was eating a hole in my stomach, threatening to lead me back to drink, this guilt over my own pigheadedness.

I wanted to tell Gina, to explain to her that she couldn't dismiss the threat her brother posed so easily. He wouldn't care that they had grown up in the same house, or that she had a life of her own. Like a drowning man, he would flail about, desperate to bring down anyone he thought might save him. I could see it so plainly, without even knowing the facts. It's what I would have done, and that's what made me nervous.

She had been upset to get his phone call. I could see that she knew enough not to get drawn into his drama on purpose, but would her brother leave it at that? Would he accept no for an answer and leave her in peace? Or was he so desperate that he would try to seek her out? That's what made me worried.

In my drug-chasing days, I wouldn't have let anything stand in the way of me and my next high, including friends and family. I wouldn't put it past George to show up on Gina's doorstep. My only comfort was that I was pretty sure he had no idea she was in Singer's Ridge. Shit, her own father didn't even know she was just a few blocks away.

I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. She woke up anyway, batting sleep from her beautiful eyes.

"Good morning." I kissed her. "I have to go to work."

She sighed unhappily, rolling over onto her side.

"Sleep as long as you like," I said, slipping into my work pants and buttoning them up.

"How will I lock the door?"

"If you push the button in on the knob, it'll lock," I said. "But I'd rather you stayed here."

"There's nothing to do here," she yawned. "I need coffee."

"There's a pot in the kitchen," I answered, finding a clean shirt in the dresser.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you want me to stay here?"

I didn't want to tell her, didn't want to put voice to the doubts that were nagging at me. But without an explanation, I would sound like a psycho, so I gave up. Of course she had to leave the apartment. We weren't married, and she was probably safe anyway.

"I was just worried about your brother," I admitted, pulling my shirt on.

She smiled. "Don't worry. I can handle him."

"Okay," I said, though her statement did nothing to calm my fears. I dove in for a final kiss. "I owe you dinner."

"Sounds good." She pulled the covers up and closed her eyes again.

I let myself out onto the landing, fighting hard to walk away. There was a delicate line I was trying to walk between friends and lovers, between caring about her and smothering her. I didn't know her brother from Adam; maybe I was wrong about him, and I was getting all worked up over nothing. My instincts told me Gina was in trouble. I should have listened, but I let concerns about work convince me I was being overprotective. I hurried down to my truck and drove away, leaving my heart to fend for itself.

" W hatsamatter?" Derrick jeered as I stopped for water after loading a customer's pickup truck.

I whirled on him, eager to put my fist through his face. I was so close to starting a fight, I could feel the disappointment in Old Man Matthews's eyes. I couldn't let Derrick goad me into violence. Even though he was asking for it, even though he was the one who was wrong, I controlled myself. I pushed past him, stalking back out into the yard to continue my work.

Mike stopped by to deliver something to the new proprietor. He came looking for me and found me piling wood into the bargain bin. I didn't notice him at first, until he clapped me on the back. I tossed the last board in and turned, getting ready to school whoever had been stupid enough to cross me. Instead, I found my friend's goofy smile beaming at me, and I relaxed.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"My dad found an old car title in his papers, asked me to deliver it to Mr. Matthews," Mike said. His parents had owned the lumberyard before they retired.

"It wasn't their car?" I wiped my hands off on my jeans.

"Nah, it belonged to the business." Mike put a hand on my shoulder again. "Can you take a five?"

"Sure."

We went into the house at the far end of the yard, the one Mike had grown up in. It had been converted into a set of offices, with the kitchen as the break room. A Coke machine now stood in the entryway. I plugged a couple of quarters in and handed Mike a drink before getting one of my own. We sat at the table, the same one that Mike's parents had left behind when they downsized.

"I'll never get used to this place being an office building," Mike said.

"Remember when we pulled up your mom's flowers?"

"Or when we made beet smoothies?"

"And your mom made us finish them," I completed the memory.

Mike shook his head. "So many things have changed."

"Can I talk to you about something?" I sobered, running a finger along the top of my can.

"What is it?" He could sense the gravity of the situation from the tone of my voice.

"I'm seeing this girl…" I paused. I wasn't sure "seeing" was right. We had only been on one real date and had sex a couple of times, but I had fallen for her. If it was in the cards, I wanted to be with her for a long, long time.

"Congratulations." Mike nodded. "Who? How did you meet?"

"She's, um…" I decided to tell him a partial truth. "She's a nurse from the treatment center."

Instead of discouraging me, Mike's face lit up. "You dog!" He hit me on the shoulder, strong enough to sting. "Wait, is this above board?"

"Not really." I winced. "I mean, I didn't touch her in the treatment center—she coulda lost her job. But I'm sure someone would have something to say if they knew she was here."

"I'll bet." Mike was all in, as eager as a housewife for the news.

"She followed me here after I was released. She found me two days ago." I conveniently kept out the part about her being Matthews' daughter.

Mike shook his head in appreciation. When I stalled, he nudged me with a salacious "And?"

"And we hooked up a few times, in her hotel room and in my room."

Mike clapped once, loud enough to shake the drinks. I shook my head. It was different coming from Mike; I knew he cared about me, and he wasn't trying to get a rise. "So what's the problem?"

"She's got a brother who's an addict," I answered. "He called her yesterday asking for money."

"Hmm," Mike answered, still not seeing the threat.

"And he asked her for pills. He thinks she has access to drugs from the treatment center."

"They have drugs at the treatment center?" Mike questioned.

"Pharmaceuticals," I explained. "A lot of people have mental problems as well as substance abuse issues. Some of the drugs they're prescribed could be sold on the black market."

"Oh." Mike's voice fell an octave as he began to grasp the situation.

"She doesn't have access to the drugs. She just picks them up from the pharmacy and delivers them to the patients. But the brother doesn't know that and probably doesn't care." I laid the entire conundrum out on the table.

"I see," Mike responded gravely.

"I'm just worried that he's gonna do something stupid," I explained. "That he's gonna come looking for her because he thinks she's the answer to his problems."

"How much do you care about this woman?"

"A lot," I exhaled. "I'm crazy about her."

"You wouldn't consider asking her to leave?" He was playing devil's advocate, just touching on my options. "In case the brother does come, you wouldn't be caught in the crossfire."

I shook my head slowly. "I don't know."

"You gotta figure it out, man." Mike drained his beverage and crushed the can. "If you have real feelings for her, you have to protect her. If you don't, then you'll have to cut her loose."

I nodded, seeing the wisdom in his ultimatum. Did I love Gina? It seemed like I hardly knew her, and yet at the same time, it seemed as if we had always known each other. We hadn't defined our relationship, but I didn't want it to end. She was the one person in the world who could understand me, and I was the only one who understood her. Shouldn't that count for something?

The rest of the day, I wrestled with the question. Sliding boards in and out of pickup trucks, into bins, and even while cutting lumber, I thought about it. I really couldn't picture my life without her. We had grown so close in a matter of weeks; I hated the thought of sending her packing. She might not be my wife or my girlfriend, but I cared about what happened to her, and I didn't want to see her hurt.

I resolved to confront her when I got home, to do my best to explain the danger I thought she was in. Short of calling the police or staying with her 24/7, I wasn't sure exactly what I could do. But I wouldn't turn tail and run. She was too important to me. I was going to be there for her, whether that meant giving her a place to hide out or checking in on her as often as I could in Nashville.

Throughout the day, I vacillated. Maybe I was making too much out of this. Maybe her brother still retained the humanity that I and thousands of other addicts lost. Maybe he would take her advice and stop calling. Maybe he wasn't in as deep as I suspected. I comforted myself with these thoughts as I drove home.

Gina's car wasn't in the parking lot, but I didn't think too much of it. I went inside, took a quick shower, changed my clothes, and texted her. She didn't text back. When five minutes went by, I put my phone down and picked up my book. After fifteen minutes, I texted back: Just want to make sure you're ok. When she didn't respond to that, I began to get nervous.

I paced the room for a few minutes, trying to convince myself she had been in the shower or that she had taken a nap. A quick trip to the hotel would verify whether she was still there. Feeling half like a stalker, half like a worried husband, I locked my door, jogged down the stairs, and hopped in my truck.

All the way to the hotel, I kept running scenarios in my head. Gina was alright. I would find her car in the hotel lot, and she would explain she had just turned the ringer off. Or she would tell me she was rethinking our clandestine relationship and that it was too much for her too soon. Either way, she would be safe, and everything would be fine.

I pulled into the hotel parking lot and scanned the handful of vehicles. There was no sign of Gina's. I parked, racking my brain for my next move. Maybe she had decided to go back to Nashville without telling me. There was nothing about last night that would lead me to believe she would run away without saying goodbye, but it was a possibility. If she had gone home, then logic dictated that she would have checked out of the hotel. I could verify her intention without being intrusive, just by asking at the front desk. I got out of the truck and went inside.

"Excuse me," I said, "There was a young woman staying here, and I have something to deliver to her." I figured a bit of subterfuge would get me more cooperation than the truth. "Can you tell me if she's checked out? I think I might have missed her."

"What was her name?" the desk clerk asked.

"Gina Matthews," I answered.

The clerk checked the computer and came back with the worst possible reply. "She's still here. Would you like to leave your item at the front desk?"

"No," I said, my mouth dry. "I'll bring it by later."

Out in the parking lot, warning lights were flashing in my head. She wasn't at my place, she wasn't at the hotel, her car was missing, and she hadn't checked out. Where else could she possibly be? I did a slow drive down Main Street, scoping out the diner and the library for Gina's car. No luck. Now I was close to panic.

No amount of convincing was going to get me to believe that Gina would just disappear on her own without saying a word to me. Even if she was going to break it off after the night we shared, she would have at least sent a text. Something else was going on, something bad. I had to think; I had to come up with a plan that would help her out, but my recently sober mind wasn't up to the task.

The first thought was to go score something. That wouldn't help Gina, but it would help me relieve the stress and anxiety I was feeling. I tabled that thought as soon as it came. There would be time to wrestle with my demons after I found Gina. Right now, I needed to do everything I could to save her. With no idea how to proceed, and at a loss for options, I turned to the one person who had always been there for me.

I drove up to Mike's place and found him in the middle of a barbeque. All of his friends were there: Macy and Dillon, Jason and Lindsey, and all of their kids. It was exactly the situation I had balked at earlier that week and exactly what I needed right now. I hopped out of the truck and, despite my desperation, had the foresight to pull Mike aside. Dillon and Jason looked up, and I motioned them over as well. We all hid in the driveway, out of hearing from Tammy and the kids.

Elizabeth saw me and pointed, jumping up and down. "Porter!" She came around to find us, weaving between our legs.

"Go back to Mommy, honey," Mike said gently.

Elizabeth frowned.

"The daddies have to talk," Jason said.

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and stalked away like the diva she was becoming.

"Gina's missing," I blurted out.

"Who's Gina?" Dillon asked.

"Porter's girlfriend," Mike answered.

"She's not my—" I stopped myself. Why was I arguing semantics when the love of my life was missing? "She's not at my place, and she's not at the hotel. I drove through town, and I didn't see her car at any of the usual spots."

"Is there some reason to be alarmed?" Jason asked, not keyed in on the panic yet.

"She has a brother who is an addict," Mike said. "He called her recently thinking she had access to drugs through her employer."

"I don't know what to do." I paced the driveway, my stomach sour.

Jason took over, handing his beer to Dillon. "What vehicle is she driving?"

"I don't know," I moaned. "It's a Mazda."

"Red? Green?"

"Blue," I said.

"Do you have the plate number?"

"No, I don't have the plate number!" I snapped before I could stop myself.

The girls looked over, trying to give us our privacy and feed the children at the same time.

"Easy," Dillon cautioned. "We can get through this calmly."

"What's her name?" Jason tried again.

I nodded. "Gina Matthews."

I saw Mike's eyebrows lift in surprise. I would have to do a lot of explaining once she was safe.

"And the name of the brother?" he persisted.

I stormed through my memories, trying to pull that vital piece of information to the forefront. "George… I think."

"Okay," Jason said. "Let's go down to the station and fill out a report."

"There's no time for that," I complained. Didn't they understand that she was in danger? We should be beating the bushes, combing the forests, swimming through the lake, whatever we had to do. I didn't want to sit still. I wanted to be in the thick of things.

"Where are you going to look?" Jason brought me down a notch. "What if she has gone home and she doesn't want to speak to you?"

"Then why didn't she check out?" I shot back, giving voice to my worst fears.

"The sooner we get the report filled out, the sooner I can have troopers looking for her, her car, and her brother," Jason responded.

"Come on," Mike said, opening my driver's-side door. "I'll come with you."

I exhaled, feeling defeated. It didn't seem like there was any way around it. I would have to follow the legal procedure, sit in an office, and fill out paperwork while my lover was at the mercy of who knew what. If I was lucky, it was just her brother, not the mafia or whatever goons he was running with. No shortage of horrible scenarios ran through my head as we stood deliberating in the driveway.

Mike went to tell his wife and the other adults where we were going, before climbing into the passenger seat of my truck. I retreated from their perfect family gathering, my personal catastrophe having spoiled their evening. Jason followed in his pickup, ready to shuffle me into the system with an ineffective missing person's complaint. I felt my future sliding further and further from my reach. It seemed like I had just fallen in love, and now I was going to lose her. Fate couldn't be that cruel , I told myself. I just had to hang on, have faith, and I would be reunited with my soul mate. Until then, I knew it was going to be a bumpy ride.