44. Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four

Leo

" A nna," I drawl into the phone that has become even more of a permanent fixture to the side of my head than my five-o'clock shadow and grin. "This working remote shit has gotta stop. You're killing me."

Her scoff echoes over the speaker, and I snicker.

"If you hadn't sent me up here to get you more crap for your label, we wouldn't have to deal with this now, would we?"

Shaking my head, I bite back the snort from her snark and sigh. "No, I suppose not."

I wait a beat, the levity a nice break from the seemingly constant turn of negativity that's been dumped on us, and then ask her the question I already know the answer to. The reason I called her to begin with.

Good news first.

"So didja get 'em?"

"You know I did."

"Hot dayum," I call out and throw a fist into the air. "Communications Officer and Signing Agent. I fucking knew they wouldn't say no to you, ma'am."

"I am not old enough to be a ma'am. Can you not?"

I snort and relax back into the couch cushion, my feet kicking up onto the coffee table next to my to-go cup. "I'm telling you. Age gap is all the rage now."

Anna mutters something unintelligible into the phone, but I can't even begin to make it out over the laugh I'm desperately holding in.

"Some of us are considered seasoned ."

"Wow," she deadpans, unimpressed. "Did you need those readers perched on your nose to tell you that one?"

I don't bother holding back the laugh on that one. "How'd you know?"

"Because you are old, Leo."

I reach for the coffee cup and take a sip. It's still lukewarm enough and hits just right.

"I'm just glad for some fucking good news for once," I mumble against the plastic lid and the dead silence that greets me has my stomach dropping.

"So you haven't heard then?"

Returning the cup to the table, I run a thumb beneath my nose and purse my lips. Because that's the other reason I had to call. "I … have, actually."

Guess it's bad news time.

"And it's not good news." Anna doesn't even have to ask to know. She's already sighing a breath of defeat over the line.

"He's not ready to come home yet, Anna."

A sound that's awfully familiar to a broken heart fills the line only moments before she covers it up with a clearing of her throat.

She thinks I don't know, but I do.

"As long as he's getting what he needs," she mutters, but it's forced. Just as it was the last time I told her that Toby opted to sign himself up for another program at the rehab clinic he was court-ordered to attend.

He was only supposed to be gone a week. Get a detox. Come home.

The man fought us tooth and fucking nail the entire way there, to the point where his mug ended up on the front page of the tabloids for being a drunk on his way to rehab.

Least creative headline ever.

But as of this morning, he's enrolled himself in the facility's most immersive program available.

"How long?"

"Ninety days."

For so long, I thought Toby was just like the rest of us. Having a drink, a good fucking time, no big deal.

I still don't know all the demons that hide in his closet, possibly never will, but if I'd been able to put two and two together without Anna having to basically threaten me to see it …

It took her breaking down in front of me while holding a phone that played yet another viral video of our dearest troublemaker destroying the inside of a liquor store with his bare hands and only little Anna there to stop him.

I'm still raw from it all.

That the biggest demon hiding in one of my best friend's closet was alcoholism.

And I had no fucking clue.

In fact, I encouraged the shit on more than one occasion. And for that, I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself , let alone ask for Toby's forgiveness.

I know I don't deserve it.

So when the man from the clinic that's sponsoring Toby called and gave me the news … I knew the only option I had was to agree.

Give him what he needs.

"That's … a long time."

Clearing the lump from my throat, I blink a few times to break myself out of my thoughts and come back to the phone. "Yeah. The guy said he was going to email me the itinerary for the program. I guess they have already mapped out a few things."

"That's … good …" Anna breathes into the phone, barely audible.

I sigh and switch the phone to my other ear. "I know it sucks, Anna. You don't have to pretend with me."

"I'm not," she shoots back quietly, but I hear the sniffle on her end of the line. "Not pretending. His healing is his and I want him to get better. Whatever that means."

"Even if it means he never comes back home?" The question coming from my own lips engages an ache so deep, I feel it in my soul.

I hope that's not the case.

"That's … up to him to decide. Not any of us. And definitely not me."

"He's going to get better, Anna."

Her scoff feels like a gut punch.

"Things have to change, Leo." She all but sobs into the phone. " You have to change. Or he'll never make it out alive."

"I know. Fuck, I know." I scrub my hand over my face. "I already talked to the guys. As soon as he's willing, we're all going to see him. And they've all promised to be there for him after."

"No, not just them. You . He looks to you most of all." The weight I was already feeling doubles. " You need to do better."

"I … I know."

I sheltered him too long. Out of guilt and shame. Partly because of fear and wholly because I care.

But I ignored the things right in front of my face because it was easier than accepting that any one of the men I protect on a daily basis was still hurting.

Still breaking.

Chasing the fix over and over again.

I see it now.

And I have a lifetime of regret to go right along with it.