Drop Everything Now (15 page)

I expected Chris to snarl back, but his mouth dropped open and he howled with laughter. His hands shook as he paced back and forth, clasping them together over and over again. He shook his head in rapid bursts, like he was trying to shake water out of his ear. I’d seen one or two manic patients at the hospital, dealing with a variety of stuff, and even though this didn’t look exactly the same, it was clear this was not a regular outburst.

“Holy shit, bro,” he said.

Bryan turned away, disgusted. He settled back on the bed, and this time his face betrayed an enormous amount of pain. “Holy shit is right.”

“Well, do you at least have a little bit of cash? Anything helps, man,” he rattled off. His voice seemed to go faster every second. As I studied him and his wide eyes and jerky movements, I caught sight of a red smudge under his nose.

Bryan grabbed a rumpled white envelope, fat with cash, and tossed it at Chris. “My fee plus tips, asshole. Just promise me you won’t come back here again. And if I hear you bothered Mom about this, I will have your ass. Do you understand me?”

Chris folded the envelope into his back pocket. “Yeah, I promise. You won’t see me again anytime soon,” he said over his shoulder as he left. Then the door slammed shut.

My feet felt planted to the floor. I stood there, my brain working a mile a minute trying to process everything. The manic state. The speedy talking. The demands for cash. The evidence of a recent nosebleed. Slowly, I made myself move, one step at a time, to Bryan’s side.

“He’s not just mentally ill, is he?” I asked quietly.

Bryan pressed both palms to his cheeks, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or just exhausted, but when he finally pulled them away, his eyes were red and watery.

He sighed. “You’re right. I mean, he is sick. Really sick, mentally. But a big part of that is the addiction.”

“To what?”

“First, it was alcohol, then pot. That led to cocaine quickly enough. I think it’s still cocaine, though at one point he was selling ecstasy to finance the crack.”

“Dammit.” I let my head fall to his shoulder. This wasn’t even my brother—not even technically any of my business—but I felt stunned, like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I knew enough about addiction to know that this was really, really bad.

“Is he dangerous?” The words trembled out of me. I didn’t know much about crack addicts, but I knew that the violence and wildness in Chris’s eyes had terrified me.

Bryan pulled me tight to him. “Did he scare you?”

“Yeah.” If there was any time for honesty, this was it. “I wish you had told me.”

“If I had, would you have been with me?” he whispered.

There were about ten different answers for that. Yes, no, or maybe, depending on how he told me. I ached, knowing that his fear of me finding out about his brother kept him from telling me, but maybe it hurt more that he hadn’t told me at all.

“What about rehab?” I asked with stilted breath.

“He’s been in three times. All funded by yours truly. Along with the failed business ventures to fund the crack or sell the crack or both. I found that out after I’d co-signed the loan or fronted the money. That’s where almost all my cash from the Kitten has gone for the last three years.”

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and at the touch of my lips, I felt him relax. I hated to ask the next question, but I did anyway. “So why don’t you quit? Let the state take care of him.”

He took in a sharp, wet gasp of air, and I didn’t have to look at him to know that the tears were back. I would let him cry without staring at him. I gripped his upper arm hard. Just to let him know I was there.

“I can’t. I just can’t. He’s my brother, you know? I can’t see him starve or become homeless or get arrested. I don’t know. Part of me knows it would be for the best, and then I think about my mom. She doesn’t really know the half of this, you know? She’s already been fucked over by one asshole when my dad left us, and she loves my brother. The two of us are all she has. I don’t want her to get fucked over by him, too.” And then his chest shook, and I nodded, and we sat there for a long while, just like that.

When Bryan’s head grew heavy on my shoulder, I pressed a kiss to his forehead and roused him long enough to bustle around the tiny room, getting him a new ice pack and a glass of water for his nightstand. I even took a couple minutes to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before settling in next to him again. Just seconds after I did, his breaths became slow and heavy, and I sighed, willing myself to fall asleep, too.

This was a fucked-up world where we had to take care of the people who should have been taking care of us.

But we were the only two people in the world who could take care of each other.

Chapter 19

I’d
already scheduled the next two days off. I’d become a favorite of Gladys’ by some miracle, and she let me take Tuesday and Wednesday, the lowest-tip days in cocktail waitress world, off to focus on papers I had to get done.

I woke up in the same position I’d fallen asleep in—on Bryan’s shoulder, with a gross stream of drool pooling on my cheek. I jerked awake to hear him laughing. When he shifted toward me and pulled my head back to his shoulder, I groaned. “That is so gross. I’m so sorry.”

He laughed. “Please. I’ve licked every inch of you. A little bit of your drool on my shoulder is a small price to pay for you still being here.”

That made my stomach drop, and I sat up again. “What do you mean? Of course I’m here. I mean…” I blew out a breath. “I don’t love it that that’s how I found out about your brother. But things have been…undefined between us, you know? There’s no relationship handbook that tells you how to do deal with crack-addicted brothers.”

He shrugged, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I don’t know. Ever since all this shit with Chris started, I’ve been taking care of him, and I guess taking care of my mom, too. It’s been a long time since someone’s taken care of me.”

A lump rose in my throat. For the first time, I realized that that’s exactly how I felt about him, too. “You know, you took care of me when I first got here.”

He shook his head. “I’ve seen you taking care of yourself since day one. And your mom, too. Don’t discount that.”

“I don’t, but seriously. I was a disaster, Bryan, and you made sure I was okay. You helped me to my room, you brought me dinner, you found me a job and a place to stay.”

“Well, that was a little selfish,” he said. “I mean, I don’t think I was really thinking about it that way back then, but I think…ah…”

His eyes met mine with that intensity I’d grown to love so much.
Love. Don’t be stupid, Andi, this is just about letting go and having fun.

It had started out that way, but was it still?

“But what?” I murmured.

“I wanted you close to me. You came here to do the thing that was most
you
out of anything—taking care of other people. And, you know, I think I could see that.”

“Jesus.” I swallowed, stunned at how perfectly, exactly right he’d gotten everything.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, no.” I said, taking care to look back as steadily into his eyes as he looked into mine. “I love that. And, for what it’s worth—” My words rushed out. “—I’ve always seen the real you, too, you know.”

“Even…”

“Yes, even at the Kitten. All those other guys throwing their dicks around in our faces? Made me laugh. Ask Cara. I seriously had the giggles. But as soon as you were on stage, I wanted to be next to you. I never do that kind of thing. I didn’t even care how it happened, just that I could have my hands on you. Right then.”

He grabbed the back of my head, pulling my lips hard to his. I sucked in a breath, half of surprise and half of pleasure, and returned the urgency of the kiss.

But a split-second later, he broke it, leaning back with his features twisted.

“What?” I asked. “What happened?”

He fumbled around on the covers for the bag of peas, now a long-melted bag of mush. “We can’t. That cannot happen until this is all better. I can’t get hard. It hurts like a bitch.”

I covered my mouth, mostly to hide the smirk forming there. “Just that kiss?”

He nodded slowly. “Just that kiss, baby. It’s always been like that. Since the very first one.”

I grinned. “Really?”

“Really. Until I knew you were okay with…everything…well, let’s just say I spent a lot more time in my shower than I ever have before.”

I stifled a giggle, a thrill of power running through me. I had no idea I’d had that much effect on him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Get that sexy ass out of here. I know you have homework to do.”

My face fell. “Yeah, I really do. I’m already a week behind on this project for Child Social Development. But first, I’m gonna get you set up. What can I bring you?”

“Just my phone? And another bag of peas?”

I made a concerted effort at a sympathetic face before scooting carefully off the bed and rummaging through the freezer. “Okay, I have Brussels sprouts and corn. Corn?”

He nodded, and I made quick work of wrapping it in a towel before bringing it to him.

“I should probably go to the bathroom first,” he grunted as he moved slowly off the bed and started hobbling toward the door.

I found my shoes and stepped into them, glancing in the microwave door to try to fix my hair as best I could before he got back out of the bathroom. I listened carefully as I did and could’ve sworn I heard a whimper just before the toilet flushed. More grunts as he eased back into bed.

Now my worry was in full gear. “You need to go see a doctor,” I said as I helped him press the frozen packet of corn to his crotch again.

“Don’t get too close there, Andi,” he said.

“I’m serious,” I said.

“No insurance,” he shrugged. “But Kat’s brother is a doctor and sees us sometimes if we really need it. It was part of the agreement. She called him, and he said he’s seen it before, that it just needs rest. Of course she was pissed—I’m missing a week at the show at least—but what could she do?”

“Okay,” I said, walking toward the door. “I’m gonna get a video call done and finish a paper, and I’ll be back here to make lunch. Don’t move unless you absolutely have to. Text me if you need anything.”

He didn’t say a word as I left, but the look on his face said it all. He needed me, and he was damn happy I was here.

Maybe this was like my drug—being the one to come to the rescue.

I called Carol, asking about her visit to Mom that morning.

“Didn’t get in this morning, babe, but last night she told me she was doing great. Not to worry about it.”

“Really? What was she doing? Did she look well?”

“Looked great. Did five laps around the house.”

Laps were important for Mom’s ease of movement after surgery, not to mention her mood. The endorphins from that exercise mixed with the outdoor sun were intended to stave off depression. I’d seen it work for pediatric cancer patients in real time, so I had really pushed it for Mom. I smiled at the idea that she was taking me seriously.

“She and Mike were watching
Jeopardy
,” Carol added.

“What? Really?” Challenging each other at Jeopardy was one of the things Mom and Mike had done after she’d worked on a study that showed middle-aged people who did purposeful brain-teaser activity for half an hour a day had greater longevity and a lower risk of developing Alzheimer’s. My throat swelled up as I remembered her explaining, “I’m fifty-three, and I just found Mike. I want as many years with him as I can get.”

I wanted that. I wanted someone I didn’t have to take care of and who didn’t have to take care of me, who I just wanted to spend time with. I’d been happy for Mom that she found Mike, but I hated to admit I’d felt like I’d lost a part of her.

Maybe that was why we’d become so close when they’d started dating. Mom had chalked it up to me being far away, of course, and not fitting in with any sorority or club, but that didn’t happen until I found child life as a career goal in my junior year. Still, Mom had known I needed to feel more assured of our relationship than ever before. She’d made sure that phone call happened every day, that she knew everything about my life, that I knew she’d always be there to support me through college drama and stress.

Now that Mom wasn’t taking care of me anymore, I was trying to fill the void by taking care of her, but maybe I really needed to be taking care of myself.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll stop by tonight and make sure she’s good.”

I flew through the work for my paper, and I was actually pretty proud of the results. It was like a small voice in my head was telling me that I could actually do this thing, could actually figure out how to finish college before that fellowship started. It was the same during the video call with my mentor at the hospital, Laura.

“You look happy,” she remarked. “You were looking tired before. Mom doing better?”

“No, she’s not. I mean, I don’t know. She’s home from the hospital.”

“Oh, that’s great news! Do you think you’ll be home soon?”

“Home? Me? No, no. She still doesn’t remember anyone but me really. She still needs me here.”

“But she agreed to go home, right? That must mean something about her stability, especially her relationship with her husband.”

“Well, yeah, it means she was better enough to go home. And that her insurance was running out.”

“She works for a hospital, Andi. Their coverage would be good enough that if she was too emotionally stressed to go home, they’d keep her there on those grounds. Trust me. I’ve seen it in a dozen different ways.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Still, when Laura said it, it was the first time I’d really thought of it. She kind of had a point.

“Just promise you’ll keep me posted.”

“I will. Thanks for the call today,” I said, giving her a grateful smile.

“Of course,” she said. “And, Andrea?”

“Yeah?”

“Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

I nodded. “I will. Thanks.”

I wanted to do as Laura asked—I really did. My head was telling me it was time to pack up and leave Vegas, that if Mom was well enough to be home, then she didn’t really need me anymore. But my heart was telling me something completely different, and I didn’t want to analyze what that was too closely. Instead, I threw myself into more papers and take-home quizzes until my brain left worrying mode and entered homework-obsession mode—a comfortable, if numb, place.

A few hours later, the growl that ripped through my stomach made me realize I was lightheaded and weak from not having eaten all day. My brain jumped to Bryan. If I was this hungry, he must be starving.

When I let myself into his apartment, he was in a pretty sad state, half-slumped over on the bed, his makeshift ice pack fallen on the floor. Combined with the fact that he was used to sleeping days after late shifts at the Kitten, the recovery must have been taking a whole hell of a lot out of him.

The least I could do was make him some lunch. I rummaged through his cabinets, and the second one I opened was full of food—well, if you could call those bright blue boxes of mac and cheese we’d all grown up with “food.” Still, I was ravenous and couldn’t be too picky, so I started some water boiling and found some milk and butter spread in his fridge. A few minutes later, I was mixing that gross orange powder into the noodles and experiencing a serious nostalgic flashback: Mom and me, too exhausted and poor to make anything else, mixing up a big batch of it and serving it on paper plates with a CD of violin music playing and floating tea lights flickering on the card table between us. I’d pretended mine was filet mignon and she’d said hers was crab linguine, and I promised her that one day I’d be rich enough to pay for the real thing.

“This is the real thing, Andi,” she’d said, winking at me. “There’s nothing more real than the fact that I love you no matter what.”

Well, damn, that memory had me all choked up. I’d have to make it over there this afternoon for sure.

I dumped a big portion of oily orange noodles into a couple of bowls and gently scooted onto the bed next to Bryan, sitting cross-legged and setting down the steaming lunch.

A week ago, if I’d wanted to wake him up, I would’ve whispered in his ear or, even better, stuck my hand down his pants. But I knew no matter how much I loved spending time with him, I did not want to see the state of his manhood right now—and that if I so much as breathed on him the wrong way, he’d get a stiff one and be in ridiculous pain. So I just reached over, took his hand, and intertwined my fingers with his.

“Bryan,” I murmured. “Hey, I’m back. I made lunch.”

He roused with a sharp breath of air and the most adorable “mmm” I’d ever heard. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming urge to just curl into his body and feel his warmth against me for the rest of the day.

But I also really, really wanted him to eat lunch, and I knew Mom needed to see me again. She was sure to be confused about something in the house, and she’d need me there to feel safer, more assured. There was caretaker-Andi again.

He shifted, trying to turn toward me, but stopped a second later, wincing and grunting.

“Oh, babe.” I cooed, stroking his arm. “Not feeling any better, huh?”

He opened his eyes and stared sleepily into mine. For the first time, I was really struck by how gorgeous they were—that deep olive green that showed warmth and passion and emotion so transparently when they looked into mine. “No, actually, I am. I am. Last night was pretty brutal. It was, like, throbbing.”

“While you were sleeping?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I was probably awake half the night, actually, but you were so sound asleep that I kind of just stayed.”

“Shit,” I said, leaning forward and handing him his bowl. “You should have woken me up, too.”

He shoveled a forkful of mac and cheese into his mouth and shrugged. “No point,” he said once he’d swallowed. “You can’t take care of everyone all the time.”

Before I could respond, he let his head fall back on the wall and groaned.

“What? Are you hurting again?”

Bryan laughed. “Geez, you’re jumpy. No, I just love this shit.”

“Obviously. You’re like twenty boxes deep in it in your pantry.”

“No, no. I never eat the stuff. But every time I get to the grocery store, I can’t help myself. My mom used to make it for us.”

“You’re shitting me,” I laughed. “Mine, too!”

“Yeah, we were too broke after my dad left to buy much else, so she’d put something new in it every night, you know? Tuna or peas or hot dogs. Just to bulk it up, make us think it was something different. I always knew, but I never said anything. It was one of the stupid games Chris and I used to play, betting what she’d throw in there. Loser had to do the dishes.”