Always For You (Books 1-3) (9 page)

I'll go back tomorrow, first thing.

When
the morning came I was back on my bike, streaking towards the
hospital again. A few glasses of whiskey had helped with the pain
last night, although man was I stiff. I cruised up and slotted my
bike into a spare space, jumping off and removing my helmet. Within
moments I was pacing back through the hospital, throwing a glare at
the nurse who'd told me to leave the previous night as I walked past.
She looked completely knackered, out on her feet after a long night
shift.
I guess she didn't deserve that, she was just doing her job.

I kept going, past doctors and nurses
rushing about here and there to attend to their patients. God I hated
hospitals: I'd been in enough over the years, mainly for simple patch
up jobs. I came round the corner to the corridor where Grace was
being kept and darted towards the door.

I
felt a little apprehensive, knowing she'd probably be awake, trying
to work out what to say. Would she even remember me? Should I tell
her about the crash? What about that night in the bar with those
vultures?
I
guess I'll know what to say when I see her.

I
passed the window and my face contorted in confusion. There was no
one there. The bed was empty.
What
the hell?

I grabbed a nurse who was passing by.
“Hey, the girl who was here last night – Grace – has she been
moved?”

“
No
sir, she was discharged early this morning. Left first thing I
think.”

Shit.

Grace

I didn't sleep much the night I woke,
there was just too much running through my head.

What the hell was Cain doing there? The
last I'd seen of him was when he was pummelling that guy half to
death, his face battered and broken. He'd frightened me, frightened
me so much I'd lost sleep. And his helmet, was he the one who had
pulled me from the accident. And why was he there last night, why was
he sat there watching me, apologizing. None of it made any sense.

As soon as the nurse came in to check
on me a little later that night I'd made sure I was awake. I knew
he'd be coming back in the morning, and I wasn't sure I wanted to see
him. She said the doctor might want to keep me in further for
observation, so I discharged myself. I felt alright, didn't feel I
needed to be there anymore.

I rushed back home as soon as I could.
I'd been there for a couple of days they told me, completely out for
the count. They'd wanted to talk to me about the drugs in my system,
the alcohol, my addiction. I didn't want to though, I wanted to
conquer this problem on my own.

It was a watershed for me, a
breakthrough. I felt a longing for an intoxicant, any intoxicant, but
I said no. As soon as I got back I rid the house of any alcohol, any
drugs. I flushed it all, hundreds of dollars worth, straight down the
drain and out of sight. I did it without thinking, without stopping.
I did it until it was all gone.

April/May 2013

Cain

I sat outside Room Z on my motorcycle,
several thoughts running through my head. I had been back several
times, watching for Grace, waiting for Grace. She'd infiltrated me
completely, got behind my shield. I had a longing to see her, a
longing to talk to her. I didn't know what that meant, why my
feelings for her were deeper than for any girl I'd ever known. I'd
only spoken to her once, during that double date over a year ago. She
probably didn't even know who I was anymore. But I knew her, I'd been
there the whole time.

As
I sat there I felt my blood boil as one of those fucking bouncers
walked out. He stepped from the club, his huge legs carrying his
hulking body round the corner for a cigarette. I wanted to grab a bar
and crack him on the back of the knee.
Try
carrying that body on a bust knee bitch.
But
I didn't. I just sat there instead, the vision of his crumbled body
hitting the ground putting a smile to my face.

I saw Krista too. She recognized my
bike as I sat there, turning away and heading back inside until I'd
left. She was scared of me. She should be. That bitch almost killed
Grace, almost had her give herself up as a prostitute. She was the
one woman who might get me to break my rules about women.

It
dawned on me that Grace wasn't coming back, that she didn't work
there anymore. As much as I wanted to find her that pleased me –
I
hope she never returns to that shithole
.
She was better than all of that.

I don't know why I felt like this
anyway. It wasn't a feeling like I wanted to screw her, it was deeper
than that, more than that. I'd felt responsible for what had happened
to her, all the shit she'd been going through. I couldn't shake that.
I just hoped that now she was getting better, now she was moving on.

Grace

The rest of April had been hard, really
hard. Katie supported me as she did, and she even suggested I go
along to support groups, somewhere where I'd be able to vent my
feelings to people who understood. But where? Alcohol support? Drug
support? Bereavement support? The list was mounting.

I took her advice though, joining a
support group for cocaine addiction. It was there that I met Chase, a
young financial trader who'd led a fast life. He'd got caught into
the web of drugs and alcohol like me, turning to them to help him
with the stress of his job.

“
It
takes lives, Grace,” he'd told me. “Seriously, people commit
suicide because of the stress of this job. Only last year we lost a
guy a couple of years ahead of me. He'd lost the company a bucketload
of cash on trades and was gonna be booted out. Killed himself by
stepping on the train tracks at rush hour.”

“
Shit,
I'm so sorry. That's terrible,” I said.

“
Hazard
of the trade I guess,” he replied, somewhat casually. “It's why
so many of us hit the drugs and alcohol, to stay fresh. Trouble is
when you have a bad day, it becomes a VERY bad day.”

I knew exactly what he was talking
about. “I know what you mean. You just need to pick yourself up
again, and cocaine is the easiest way.”

“
Vicious
cycle huh,” he said. “So what drove you over to the dark side?”

He was so open about it all, which was
kinda refreshing. I guess he'd been there a while, and perhaps that
was just his nature. I liked him immediately though, not only his
personality, but how he looked. He had slick hair, a square jaw, and
always seemed to be wearing a smart suit. It looked great on him,
made him look like an Armani model.

“
Grief,”
I said sharply. “My mom died in a car accident. I was in it too,
was in a coma for a little while. I dunno, it was hard, really hard,
to deal with it all. I'd been on painkillers, and then I gradually
started turning to alcohol. One thing led to another, then onto
drugs. Guess the same thing happens with lots of people.”

Chase was nodding, looking at me
intently as I talked. He was only a couple of years older than me,
maybe 24 or 25, but he'd clearly lived a bit. His voice was
consoling, understanding, yet positive and enthusiastic. It seemed
there was little that phased him.

“
I
know how you feel. My dad died when I was only 14, it hit me hard. Me
and my pa, we were best pals, did a lot together. I can see why you'd
try to numb the pain with drugs and alcohol. I'd have done it if I
was older, if I didn't have support.”

“
Support?
You mean friends and family?”

“
Family
and friends, they were there, sure. I've got three sisters, so we all
helped each other out, made it a bit easier. Then there were support
groups, like this one. I think talking to people who really get it,
who are there to help each other, I think that's so helpful.”

I smiled at him and nodded my head. “I
wish I'd done that as well. I just have one sister, and she lives in
New York. She wasn't around much, so it was just me and my dad.”

“
Must
have been hard.” He sounded like a therapist as he leaned forward
and put his hand on my forearm, a comforting touch, one that sent
shivers up my spine. “Did your sister not come back?”

“
She
did for a while,” I said, nodding, my pulse quickening, “but she
was studying medicine so needed to go back. She wasn't as close with
my mom as me anyway, so I think she found it easier.”

“
And
you? Are your studying?”

“
I
was. Law. The coma made me miss a lot, then I had to recover at home.
I wasn't really in a place to go back, not after everything, so I
took the year out.”

“
And
you're starting back in September?”

I nodded.

“
That's
good. And you're ready to go back?”

I smiled, one of the first genuine
smiles I'd had for a while. “I'm ready,” I said. “Or, at least,
I will be.”

I was drawn to him immediately. From
our first session together, the first time he walked into the room.
His smile was dazzling, always accompanied by the sight of dimples
appearing on his cheeks and light crinkles around his eyes. Oh his
eyes. They were deep blue, full of wisdom and experience. I fell for
him quickly, our talks becoming the highlight of my week, the reason
I'd keep going to the meetings.

One night he wasn't there. I looked
around the room, dim and cold through his absence. I wondered if he
was late, whether he stopped coming completely. I sincerely hoped it
was the former. When he turned up half an hour late my heart leaped
at the sight of him, cruising in through the door, his tailored suit
hugging his athletic body.

Everything about him was charming to
me, and it seemed the rest of the group felt the same. He'd make them
laugh easily with his anecdotes, he'd make them cry with his personal
stories. The room would fall silent when he chose to speak, his words
touching a chord with everyone there.

I don't know if I'd have gone had he
not been there. I don't know if I'd have continued to go. Had it not
been for him, I don't know if I'd have managed to steer clear of the
alcohol, steer clear of the drugs. He'd begun to change everything
for me, changing my outlook, giving me this reassurance that
everything would be OK, that my life would be back on track in no
time.

It
quickly became apparent that I was falling for him. Since Tom men
hadn't been on my agenda. Despite working in such a seedy club,
despite everything that happened, I'd never slept with anyone else,
never even thought about it.
Until
now, that is.

June 12th 2013

Cain

I sat there looking across the table at
the girl sipping on her cocktail. She wrapped her tongue around the
straw seductively, giving me this cheeky grin as she cocked her head
back, sucking down the drink with relish. She was cute, and tiny, a
little over 5 feet tall, her 3 inch heals still barely bringing her
up to my neckline.

This
was unusual for me, finding myself sat there on a date. I hated their
forced nature, having to sit in front of each other and talk when all
I wanted to do was hit the sack. But things had changed now.
Something in me had changed. I wanted something more, wanted
something real. I'd had enough of going through life, only treating
myself to single sittings with any girl I knew.
Maybe
having a proper relationship, a proper girlfriend, would be a good
thing
.

I knew why I'd changed. It was Grace.
I'd felt different about her, like she meant more to me than all
those one night stands. We'd only talked, and I barely knew anything
about her, but I knew that I wanted something deeper. I guess I
wasn't going to get that with her though. I didn't know where she
lived, I didn't know where she worked, I didn't know her number. I'd
probably never see her again.

So
there I was, sitting with this girl I'd met from behind the bar at
Foz
.
I'd been pulling my usual routine, leading her towards a night of
passion back at mine, when Brad cut me short. “Cain, remember mate,
you're looking for something more, right? That's what you told me.
Look, get her number, take her on a date. She's fucking cute man.”

So then and there I'd aborted my
routine and asked her out on a date. It felt weird, awkward,
strained, and totally alien to me to do it. I never got numbers, I
never wanted them, and I certainly didn't ask women on dates. It was
always one night, back to mind or theirs, done. That's all she wrote.

But now I was sat there, all my power
lost, all my usual bravado scattered, all my lines wasted. It was a
situation I wasn't used to, having to actually talk to a girl, hear
what she had to say, appear interested. I thought a couple of quick
cocktails might make things a bit easier, make the date more fun, so
was pretty pleased to see her suck down the first one so quickly.

“
Another
drink?” I asked as the last of the orange liquid disappeared up her
straw.

“
Sure
babe, thanks.” She had a really cutesy way about her, really girly.

I came back a few minutes later with
her drink and mine. “Not going for a cocktail?” she asked,
pouting her red lips.

“
Not
much of a cocktail guy to be fair.”

“
I
can see that,” she continued, ogling my tattoos, “bit of a man's
man aren't you.” She wasn't asking me, she was telling me. She was
still looking at me seductively as she played with her hair and
pushed her chest out, her small breasts bolstered by a push up bra.
They caught my eye for a moment as she leaned forward.