Chapter Sixteen

SHAY

"Hey, sis!" Ali beamed as he pulled the large, heavy door open. "Come in."

He stepped to the side, and I shuffled in, my eyes wandering around the wide-open space. "Wow, this place is something," I gushed, taking in the double staircases that wound up both sides of the foyer to an open landing at the top.

The floors were all marble—the expensive-looking kind with what looked like veins running through it, and there was a chandelier hanging from the second story that was almost the size of my car and no doubt cost three times as much.

Ali grinned, holding his arms out and spinning a couple of times. "It's pretty cool, right? There are six bedrooms, and they all have attached bathrooms," he rambled as I followed him through the foyer and into a large formal lounge with a wall of windows looking out onto a small inlet. Large, mansion-like houses, the same as the one we were in, lined both sides of the water, each with a private pier. "Jason has this cool boat we take out on the river. He's upstairs taking a nap at the moment, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you want to—"

"No, it's okay," I assured him with a laugh. "I haven't been on a boat since that one time Mom convinced us to go out to the Statue of Liberty, and that little boy puked on me."

He scrunched up his nose and pressed his fingers to his mouth, the memory obviously just as vivid in his mind as mine. "I could have gone the rest of my life without you reminding me of that." He fell back onto the fancy, cloud-like sofa that filled the center of the room, pressing his hand to his stomach. "Every time we moved, she would find all those tourist-type things and make us go to them. She was so obsessed with the pictures and the memories."

His mocking tone was unexpected, and I found myself pulling back a little. "Someone was trying to kill her, Ali. Of course, she wanted to do things with us and make memories. Wouldn't you want to make the most of your life too?"

"Woah," he exclaimed, his laughter agitating me even more. "Okay, okay. I didn't mean it like that."

When I was younger, I'd seen Ali as my rock, my savior.

He helped me escape our house when Dad burned it down.

He made sure we had pills so we could sleep at night.

And he made a deal with the judge so they wouldn't lock me up.

For those things, I was grateful, but while Ali was still the same person, living the same life we were stuck in ten years ago, I had moved on. I'd grown. I wanted more for my life.

But for Ali, it was almost like time had frozen, and a part of me felt like that was my fault, so instead of losing my shit, I tossed my bag onto the coffee table and took a seat next to him. I sank into the soft, pillowy cushions. "Sorry it took me so long to come by," I explained, shoving my hand into my pocket and pulling out the handful of hundred-dollar bills. "I had some issues at work this week. I've had to take some time off."

I could have called and told Ali I didn't have the money, but I'd dealt with my brother's guilt trips before, and honestly, me having to go without a few things for a couple of weeks was nothing compared to how bad he'd make me feel for letting him down.

He took the pile of cash, quickly flicking through it. "Thanks, Shay. This is great. It's gonna help a lot." He shoved the money into his back pocket. "What happened at work?"

I shook my head. "It's nothing. Just got into a fight with some guy who was abusing his girlfriend."

"You win?"

I snorted out a laugh. "Is there any question?"

He chuckled softly. "You get hurt?"

Inhaling deeply, I laid my head back and closed my eyes. "Nah. It just stirred up some of that anxiety, and I haven't had much sleep since."

"You need something?"

My eyes instantly shot open again, and I sat up, my back straight like a metal rod. "What? No." He leaped to his feet, hurrying to a rich, mahogany desk across the room. It was old and didn't match the two large white bookcases that filled the walls on either side—those were so much more modern and new. "I don't… Ali… seriously…"

The mismatch of things in this house had me curious.

There were old, expensive pieces that I'm sure were worth thousands, but they were paired with these newer, less sturdy-looking things—almost like someone had run out of money halfway through decorating.

"Shay, I've got this. It's fine," he placated, throwing open the top drawer and shoving his hand inside, up to his elbow. "What are big brothers for if not to help solve their sister's problems when they need help. I'll always have your back, you know that."

But was it really having someone's back if you're supplying a reformed addict with the thing that almost destroyed them?

"Ali, you know I don't do that shit anymore," I tried to tell him. "I haven't since you went to prison. I've been clean this whole time."

A smile flashed across his face as he pulled a small Ziplock bag from within the depths. "Ah-ha!" he sang joyously, shaking it in the air, the three or four pills shuffling around. "Here, you can take these."

He tossed them, and without even thinking, I reached out. They bounced between my hands a couple of times before I finally managed to wrap my hands around them.

It was jarring.

Feeling the shape of them clutched in my grasp, the muscle memory still there as I imagined myself pulling the sides of the baggy open and digging around inside with two fingers to try and get one of the pills out. It always took a couple of goes. The bags were so tiny I always struggled to grasp them.

"No." I tossed the bag onto the coffee table and leaped to my feet. My heart was racing, and I couldn't stop shaking my head. "No, Ali. I don't need them."

"There's no shame in admitting you need a little help, Shay," he whispered, holding my gaze from across the room. "I can see how tired you are. I can tell how desperately you want to rest."

He wasn't wrong.

It was a week since I'd had a full night's sleep, and it was less than that before I needed to be back at work.

How was I meant to be responsible for other people's lives when mine was slowly falling to pieces?

Something needed to change before then. Something desperately needed to change.

At the moment, I was getting by from napping during the day because that's when there were no shadows.

A couple of hours at the clubhouse when Bishop needed to be there.

An hour or so on the sofa when we were just hanging around the house.

I'd even fallen asleep in the bath and woken up when the water was completely cold.

Anywhere I had a moment, I closed my eyes, but at most, it added up to four, maybe five hours a day.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the drama queen."

For once, I was so fucking happy to hear Jason's voice. It was the slap in the face I needed to pull me out of the exhausted haze that was beginning to make that tiny packet look somewhat inviting.

He strolled into the room looking just as I remembered, maybe a few pounds heavier but still just as smug with self-importance. "Shay, it's great to see you."

"I wish I could say the same," I answered, my voice dripping with disgust. I refused even to fake being nice or polite. Ali may have forgiven him for the way he'd acted when we got arrested, but to me, he was still the asshole who used Mommy and Daddy's money to make sure Ali took the fall for things he'd had his slippery, snake-like hands in.

He didn't flinch at my lack of a warm greeting. Instead, he seemed to delight in it, his eyes growing wide as his smile stretched at his cheeks. "Has Ali given you the tour yet?" he questioned. "We could take the boat out. It's a nice afternoon for a cruise, maybe you could get a tan? If you didn't bring a bathing suit, most girls just go topless."

"What an enticing offer," I answered dryly, squeezing my fists together as he came closer. "Unfortunately, I'll have to pass. Too much of a risk that I'll be sick."

"That's a shame."

"Yeah, being around you really does that to me."

Ali quickly stepped between us as he always did when we bickered.

I wasn't sure what he was more scared of—Jason hurting me or me putting him in his place if he tried.

"What are these doing out?" Jason commented, walking by and plucking the small pill bag from the coffee table.

"Shay's struggling a little at the moment…"

I shot my brother a hard glare. "Ali…"

"So I gave her something from your emergency stash. I hope that's cool. She really needs it."

"I don't," I argued through clenched teeth. "Hence, why they're on the table."

Jason held them out, fluttering the packet around as he walked toward me. "Oh, come on, I remember the things you used to do for these tiny pills."

I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to kick him in the balls. "Well, as fun as this little reunion has been, I've got somewhere to be."

Jason released a dramatic sigh, turned back to the sitting area, and returned with my purse in his hands. "Well, you know where I am now if you ever need any help."

I snatched my bag from his hands and screwed up my nose. "Don't hold your breath."

Ali fell into step with me as I marched back through the foyer toward the front door. "Shay," he hissed through the side of his mouth. "Why do you have to be so rude?"

"It's fine, man," Jason called, causing us to come to a stop. "I've dealt with addict Shay before. I don't take it personally."

I tried to turn, but Ali grabbed my hand and dragged me to the front of the house. "Just go, Shay," he ordered, pulling on the handle and forcing me onto the front patio. "The last thing I need right now is you pissing him off. He's giving me a job next week. I need this."

Tearing my hand from his gasp, I took a few steps back. "You're really going to take his side again?"

"I'm not doing this, Shay."

I threw my hands in the air, storming down the concrete path to my car. "Fine!"

"I love you," he called, but all I could do was throw a wave over my shoulder.

It felt like these days, all we did was argue.

My brother had always struggled with standing up for himself and me. He always followed along and did what everyone else was doing. And when Jason appeared on the scene after we lost Mom, he clung even harder because Jason gave him something he'd been searching for since Dad first started his vendetta—an escape.

From responsibility. From memories. From life.

When Jason was around, Ali didn't think. He just did what he was told and kissed ass because Jason held the power.

And that just made me feel so fucking sick because while he was just handing over control of his life to that asshole, I was fighting for control of mine.

***

Bishop wasn't home when I pulled into the driveway.

I tried not to be disappointed, knowing he wouldn't be too far away.

We'd made a deal this morning when I'd told him I needed to go and see Ali. He would give me two hours without one of the boys stalking me, but I had to let Match install an app on my phone so he knew where I was.

A little invasive, maybe, but not exactly unwelcome.

With Vince making his presence and interest in my relationship with Bishop well known last night, having Bishop or one of the boys be able to get to me quickly was actually comforting.

My body ached as I trudged up the stairs, desperate to use the bathroom as the drive to see Ali was across the other side of the city, and I'd made the mistake of visiting during peak time when everyone was heading home from work.

My phone started ringing just as I was finishing up and fighting to get my jeans up over my ass. I swear it had grown a size since Calli and I moved to Detroit, and I blamed it on Sunday lunch.

It was like having Thanksgiving once a damn week.

When I finally got them buttoned up, I grabbed my purse, and instead of wasting time digging through it for my cell phone, I upended it on the counter between the two sinks.

My cell and several things bounced out and onto the bathroom floor.

A lipstick. A packet of gum. A random pair of tweezers and a couple of tampons.

But it was what landed on the countertop that had my heart stopping.

A tiny packet. With four tiny pills inside.

"How…"

Jason released a dramatic sigh, turned, and went back to the sitting area, returning with my purse in his hands. "Well, you know where I am now if you ever need any help."

Jesus Christ.

He put them in my bag.

My phone started ringing again, vibrating across the floor while light, ballet-type music echoed off every wall.

It was Bishop.

I didn't need to look to know that much.

Anyone else would have given up by now and just texted me.

Not him. He never gave up on me.

But at that moment, a lack of sleep had me close to giving up on myself.

The few hours I was getting were enough to keep me from completely shutting down, but not enough to be positive I wasn't walking through a dream, reality beginning to feel like an out-of-body experience.

Bishop had noticed too.

I was jumping at loud sounds, tripping over my feet, and falling asleep on any flat surface I sat at for more than ten minutes. What he didn't see was how I lay frozen in bed at night while the darkness and silence played tricks on my mind.

I knew it wasn't real, but it was like my body transformed into concrete the moment the sun went down. I couldn't move. I couldn't get up.

Not until the sunlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating the shadows and freeing me from my prison.

I'd had the odd night like that in the previous few years, often when I was feeling stressed or overwhelmed, but I was usually back to myself by the following night.

But it'd never been this bad.

Not in ten years.

I knew because when I glanced back at the little packet of pills on the counter, it wasn't memories of pain and nights spent vomiting while I went through withdrawals that came to mind.

No.

It was the relief. I could practically feel it already. I knew how long it would take for them to kick in.

I knew the pure bliss I'd feel the moment those chemicals hit my bloodstream. It would stop my hands from shaking. It would get rid of the headache that had become constant and unrelenting.

I'd get those few moments of peace that I desperately needed.

My phone rang again.

And this time, I dropped to the floor, scrambling to pick it up, my breathing labored and uneven. It took three or four tries, my hands coated in sweat, but I managed to swipe across to pick up his call.

"Shay? You good?"

"No," I answered, my voice cracking. "No. I need you."