Legacy (11 page)

The sun was shining, and the car had soaked up the heat. As Corinne headed home, the warmth drove the last of the adrenaline from her. The birth had been thrilling, but exhaustion gathered around her like a cloak.

Buck went berserk as soon as she came through the door, alerting her with jumps and twirls that his breakfast was hours late.

“Sorry, baby,” she cooed, following him to the pantry and serving him a heaping scoop of food. Corinne opened the fridge and stared inside. She was too tired to eat, but she was incredibly thirsty.

Wes had chilled cans of coconut water, and the label of the coconut with a straw sticking out of it was too tempting to pass up. She grabbed one and opened the tab, and the cold, mildly sweet liquid was heaven. It didn’t satisfy Wes’s rule for one of her three squares a day, but she told herself she’d eat something later.

Corinne carried her drink to the couch and plopped down.
The Today Show
was still on, and even though the A-list hosts had already passed the baton to Tamron Hall and Natalie Moralis, the chatter about spring fashion and pet spas was better than silence.

In a moment, it didn’t matter what was on because Corinne’s muscles seemed to soak into the cushions, and her eyelids melted closed. Her last cogent thought was that she needed to thank Wes for his morning heroics.

Perhaps a pineapple upside down cake.

Chapter 14

W
es adjusted his Camelbak and waited for the crosswalk signal at Johnston and South College. The pack carried his keys and wallet, the sweaty t-shirt he’d run to work in that morning, and something for Corinne. After obsessing about her all day at the gym, he’d come up with a plan.

She had scared him half to death.

When the call from Morgan had woken him, he’d knocked and called Corinne’s name outside her door for what seemed like forever. Before barging in, he’d even wondered if she’d left the house in the middle of the night. Which was crazy because Corinne
never
left the house.

Wes had crossed the room in the darkness, but when he touched her shoulder to rouse her and she didn’t respond, he’d snapped the light on in confusion. Confusion quickly morphed to panic when she wouldn’t wake up, and he half expected to see an empty bottle of pills on the pillow beside her.

Of course, there had been none, but clearly, Corinne was taking something. Too much of something, to be exact.

The crosswalk lit up for him, and he broke into a run again. The distance from the house to the health club was only a little more than three miles, but Wes was ready to be home. It was only just past 11, and he’d finished a six-hour shift at the gym. He had the afternoon and the evening to try to confront Corinne, but Wes knew that he had to be careful about it.

He reached the house, unlocked the door, and immediately slowed his movements when he saw Corinne asleep on the couch. Buck was curled by her feet, and the dog raised his head and thumped his tail sleepily.

Not much of a guardian, Buck.

As quietly as he could, Wes shut the door behind him and stepped closer. As usual, Corinne was lying on her right side, tucked in the fetal position; she didn’t stir at all when he came through the door.

Wes sighed. He couldn’t keep an eye on her every minute of the day, but he was beginning to wish that he could. In the last three weeks, they’d walked Buck every evening and eaten dinner together. Either he cooked, or they ordered in. Whatever it was, they would talk over the meal, slowly finding the safe topics.

The gym was always good for a story, be it funny or ridiculous, like the young guys who choose to go into the cold plunge in just their Under Armour briefs, moose-knuckling their way into the water in front of the unsuspecting golden girls of swim aerobics—and coming out mouse-knuckling ten minutes later. And then there were the entitled mothers who thought that club membership meant after-school care for their lawless brats. No shortage of material for stories.

Unlike before, Corinne now laughed at his anecdotes. And unless he was imagining it, she was glad to see him when he came in from work. Sometimes, he knew the moment he stepped through the door that she’d been crying, maybe for a long time, but instead of being furious with him for invading her privacy—like she had the day he took the Pinarello—she looked relieved.

And he was always glad to see
her
.

Wes realized this after their fourth day as roommates. That morning at the gym, one of the ladies he’d worked with for about five months told him that she had just reached her 50 lb. weight loss goal, and with words of gratitude and a few tears, she had given Wes a $50 gift card to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. On his way home that day, all he could picture was telling Corinne.

And even now, conked out on the couch after driving him insane that morning, she was still the person he wanted to see.

Don’t be a creep
, Wes told himself, turning away from her and walking into the hall. In his room, he dumped the pack on his bed and stood in his doorway. Corinne’s bedroom was directly across the hall from his, and she’d left the door open. Wes tiptoed back into the hall again and studied her.

She was obviously sleeping soundly. If he didn’t take the chance now, he might have to wait another day or more.

He felt torn about violating her space, but what had happened during the night could not happen again. Whatever she was doing was dangerous. Corinne might not understand, but Michael surely would. Anyone else would.

Wes crept across the hall and into Corinne’s room. The obvious place to look—the only place, really—were her bedside table drawers. Wes stood in front of them and worked his jaw.

Bedside tables were forbidden zones. TMI deathtraps. What if he found a dildo in there? Would he ever be able to look Corinne in the eye again?

Without meaning to, he pictured Corinne...
doing
that
. And all the blood in his body headed south.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispered, scrubbing his face with his hands to clear his thoughts. He took three deep breaths and slid the top drawer open just a couple of inches. A plastic bottle with a purple label tipped into view.

Not wanting to see anything else, Wes shut his eyes, opened the drawer a little wider, and reached for the bottle.

ZzzQuil?

The half-empty container looked just like NyQuil, except it was purple instead of green. Wes read the label:
Diphenhydramine HCI 50 mg in each 30 ml dose.
He pulled the dosage cup off the lid and eyed it. A faint blue stain crept all the way to the top, past the 30 ml line.

Corinne had been overdosing—no doubt—on purpose.

Before he could get caught in her room, Wes shut the drawer and smuggled the bottle into his bedroom. He dug out his phone and read about ZzzQuil overdose.

Flushed skin. Drowsiness. Dilated pupils. Confusion.

Wes had seen these in Corinne on more than one occasion. The rest of the symptoms—like rapid heart rate and low blood pressure—he couldn’t detect by looking at her, but he would have bet money that she’d experienced them.

He kept reading. The one bright spot was that the OTC sleep aid was not habit-forming. Corinne’s continued abuse of it was a choice, not an addiction. She wanted to sleep. Maybe even day and night.

Wes winced at the thought. He no longer felt like he wasn’t living up to Michael’s expectations. Helping with her living expenses, feeding her, getting her out of the house and moving; these things he knew would have satisfied his best friend. But knowing that he was doing the job wasn’t enough.

He didn’t want Corinne to hurt anymore. And he definitely didn’t want her to hurt herself.

She was trying to go numb. He understood that. He’d done his fair share of self-medicating in his life. Enough to know that it didn’t make anything better in the long run. Sleeping all of the time would only stall Corinne and keep her from her life. Without this liquid escape, Corinne would have to work out her grief.

But Wes intended to be there with her while she did.

He took the bottle with him, and he set out through the house again, moving as quietly as possible. When he got to the sunroom, it took him a while before he found what he was searching for, but once he was armed with everything he needed, he went back to the living room to wait.

And he didn’t have to wait long. As soon as he sat down in his recliner, Corinne turned over on the couch and stretched. Her eyes were still closed, but the hem of her t-shirt rode up, and Wes caught a glimpse of her taut abdomen before he made himself turn away. When he looked back, Corinne was squinting at him in confusion.

“When did you get back?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Just a few minutes ago,” Wes answered, bracing himself. She had not seen the array of items on the coffee table in front of her, and once she did, Wes knew that she would go ballistic.

“Mmm...Thank you for helping me this morning.” Corinne scooted herself up on the couch and reached her arms over her head, grabbing each elbow and rocking side to side. In front of him, her body elongated deliciously.

There was nowhere to look.

The pale olive underside of her arms. The rise of her breasts. The curve of her waist.

“I...um...you’re welcome,” Wes muttered, dragging his eyes down to the safety of her feet, but even they were bare, fine-boned, beautiful. He pinched the bridge of his nose to clear his focus and forced himself to look Corinne in the eye. “But we need to talk.”

She was still blinking the sleep from her eyes, but she frowned her pretty frown and held his gaze for a moment before her eyes shifted to the coffee table and took in the bottle, the sketch pad, and the card.

“What the hell...” Corinne’s features steeled, all remnants of sleep gone. She pinned him with her stare. “You went through my stuff, Wes?”

The accusation he could take; it was the look of hurt in her eyes that lanced through him, but he wasn’t going to let this be about him. She was in too much trouble.

“Corinne, I know what you’ve been doing.”

He watched her blink at the certainty in his voice. Wes knew just by watching her that she would deny it. The Corinne he knew—then and now—didn’t show weakness, not without first putting up a fight.

“You don’t know shit,” she leveled, a hardness in her eyes almost masking the doubt she felt.

Secretly, he didn’t mind the fight. He was grateful that this much of her remained.

“I know you’re having a hard time,” Wes said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Shut up! You had no right to go into my room!” Corinne sat up completely now, feet on the floor, ready to do battle.

“I was worried about you...I
am
worried about you,” he said, honestly.

She gave him a dirty look and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Because I take a sleep aid now and then? It’s over-the-counter, Wes,” her tone was superior, defensive. She wanted to make him feel stupid, which had once been something she excelled at, but those days were over.

“It’s not ‘now and then.’ It’s every day. Probably twice a day,” Wes said, pinning her with his eyes even as his voiced stayed calm.

“Such
bullshit,”
she hissed, scowling at him. He watched her. Closely. Everything in her expression was a bluff. Everything formed a wall.

He had no doubt that he’d break through.

“What’s this about? Are you regretting moving in?” she accused. “Is that where this is coming from?”

Wes’s eyes bugged. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Hell, no,” he said with force, feeling anger for the first time. “This isn’t about me. I
know
what you are doing, Corinne, and it scares me.”

She blinked at him then, clearly surprised. He was a little surprised, himself—surprised that he’d said it out loud.

Corinne recovered first.

“Look, it’s sweet that you’re worried about me, but you’ve got the wrong idea,” she shrugged, giving him a pitying smile.

She’s good,
Wes thought.
But I’m better.

“If I’ve got the wrong idea, then you won’t care if I pour the rest of this down the sink.” He was out of his chair and grabbing the bottle before Corinne could react.

“Wait!” she said, jumping from the couch, but Wes was already heading for the kitchen. No matter how she’d taken the confrontation, the ZzzQuil was going down the drain, but Wes would have preferred to have her buy-in.

“Wait!” she shrieked again, blocking him at the kitchen sink. “Give that back!”

“I can’t do that,” he said, simply, holding the bottle away from her in his right hand as she came at him from the left.

“But it’s mine,” Corinne whined, and then she surprised him by lunging in front of him and making a grab for the bottle. He only managed to kept it from her reach by lifting it over his head. And Wes nearly dropped it when her thighs pressed into his left hip as she made for another go.

It would have been funny, Wes thought, if it wasn’t so messed up.

The contact with her body rattled him, and he pushed her away.

“Corinne! Stop.” The edge in his voice left no room for opposition. “This ends now.”

He watched as her eyebrows bunched, and she seemed to shrink in front of him.

“But I really can’t sleep without it,” Corinne said, looking terrified. “I’ve tried. I swear, Wes, I’ve tried...Please...just give it back.”

Ouch.

The pleading look in her eyes made him feel like an ogre, and something in her voice pulled at the muscles in his chest. A part of him wanted to give in, but he knew he couldn’t.

“C, I can’t let you do this,” he said, meeting her eyes, hoping she saw that he wasn’t trying to hurt her. Just the opposite. “I know you just want to sleep. I get it, but this isn’t good for you. It isn’t helping.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Her voice had lost almost all volume. The panic in her eyes made him want to reach out for her. “I won’t be able to sleep
at all.
I’ve tried. I don’t remember my dreams when I take it, and I tried to stop because I wasn’t dreaming about Michael anymore, and then I just couldn’t sleep at all...I’ll lose it if I can’t sleep, Wes. It’s too much.”

Corinne’s pupils were like saucers, and her lips had blanched. Wes dropped the bottle in the sink and grabbed her just as her knees failed.

“I’ve got you,” he promised.