The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (10 page)

Unsure of what the guys wanted him to do, Wade decided that if he was going to help Georgia, he might as well get on with it. Taking a seat at the end of her bed, he winked at her as he shook his head. “Sorry, darlin', but I can't do that."

Clearly surprised by his defiance, Georgia suddenly looked as though she couldn't decide whether to cry or start screaming at him to leave her alone.

She didn't want him there; that much was obvious. But Wade could also tell that her toughness was nothing more than an act ... and that right this minute, she was nothing more than a scared little girl.

They stared each other down; Wade winning when Georgia turned away from him and looked at her brothers, giving them the saddest, most pathetic pout she could probably come up with ... a look that would've melted his heart and caused him to give in had she used it on him.

But one quick glance at Blackie and Rebel told him they weren't buying it. The hard, we're-sticking-to-our-guns-no-matter-how-much-you-pout looks on their faces remained unchanged.

"He ain't leavin', Georgia,” Blackie told her.

Rebel jumped in immediately with, “Wade's here to help you, honey. He's not going to hurt you."

Her attention then shifted to the brother who had yet to speak. Georgia tilted her head to the side and pouted once again. “Judd?” she pleaded, as if he was the only one who could save her.

Never having guessed that his cousin Judd had a single, solitary, emotional or caring bone in his body, Wade was shocked when the man stepped forward and knelt beside the bed. After reaching up and tucking a stray, still-damp curl behind her left ear, Judd then leaned in and kissed his sister's forehead. “Wade is a recovering heroine addict, Georgia,” Judd explained more calmly than Wade thought he was capable of. “He's also a certified drug counselor. He can help you a hell of a lot more than me, Blackie, and Rebel can."

"But—” she started, only to have Judd cut her off.

"No ‘buts', Georgia. This is the way it has to be."

"I'm fine!” she suddenly hollered.

"No,” Judd said, remaining surprisingly calm, “you're not. You weren't fine when I found you sitting on the floor sick and crying two hours ago, and you're not fine now, no matter how hard you try to convince me that you are."

Georgia sighed and blinked fast—as if she was trying to fight tears—then lowered her head. Her effort failed, though, as Wade spotted a single teardrop slip down her cheek. “Why can't you guys just help me?” she asked. “I don't need anyone else."

Judd placed his index finger under her chin, tilting her head up until they were eye level with each other. “Georgia, if the kind of help you needed had anything to do with fixing cars, firing a gun, or making moonshine; you wouldn't need anyone else by your side except the three of us.

"But Blackie, Rebel, and I don't have any experience with what you're going through, honey. As much as it pains me to admit it, there's not a damn thing any of us can do for you. You need someone who's been through detox and withdrawal. Someone who can tell you that how you're feeling is normal, what to expect next, and how long the symptoms are going to last.

"The boys and I can't do that, so Wade agreed to do it for us. We want you to get better."

Judd paused, but Georgia didn't speak. She wasn't crying ... she and her brother were simply staring at each other.

"We want you to be part of this family,” he continued, “to get to know our wives and kids and all your cousins. You're not ready now, and you won't be until you're better.” Then, in a much harsher voice, he added, “I'm sorry, Georgia, but you don't have a choice."

Looking a little surprised that the brother she thought would take her side, didn't, Georgia silently nodded, then leaned forward and threw herself into Judd's arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He caught her in a bear hug, resting his chin on the top of her head.

He kissed it lightly, and whispered, “I need you to promise me that you're going to listen to Wade; that you're going to talk to him. He won't hurt you. And if you need anything, the three of us will be right downstairs. Okay?"

"Okay,” she whispered back.

"Good girl.” Judd held his sister against him for another few seconds, then released her and stood. They held each other's gaze for just a moment more before he turned around and walked out the door without looking back. Silently, Blackie and Rebel followed, leaving Wade and Georgia alone in the small, quiet room.

Unsure of what he should do, Wade moved slowly toward the bed with the intention of sitting down and talking to her. Whipping her head around, she stopped him cold with a look that was more lethal than anything that had ever crossed Blackie's face. “Stay away from me,” she warned.

Stopping short, Wade raised his hands in the air to let her know that he had no intention of coming any closer. He took a deep breath, sighed, and sat down in the only available place ... which happened to be the floor.

After hearing about everything she'd been through, Wade had known that dealing with Georgia wasn't going to be easy.

Hell, who was he kidding?

Trying to help his cousins’ used and abused sister was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done ... providing he survived it.

[Back to Table of Contents]

While waiting for her brothers to return to the apartment, Georgia had thought long and hard about the one-sided conversation—no, make that, lecture—the guys had given her when she finished in the shower.

They'd explained that after the way Judd had found her that morning, they felt like they weren't equipped to handle her problem anymore.

Fine.

Great.

They couldn't help her. She understood that.

It's not that they didn't want to, they'd explained. They just didn't know how.

And why would they? None of them had ever been a drug addict. They didn't know how it felt to go through withdrawal day after day, feeling so miserable you didn't care if you lived or died.

And Georgia
had
wanted to die.

She'd had it all planned. It was simple. Jump out the window ... and it'd be all over. No fuss, no muss, and no complicated plan.

Being dead meant there would've been no more pain.

She would no longer suffer horrifying humiliation and embarrassment every time she looked in the mirror.

She'd finally be rid of the constant feeling that everyone who looked at her knew who and what she was.

Then, in a sudden moment of clarity, Georgia realized that if she accomplished what she'd set out to do, she'd miss out on three things that she'd longed to find ever since she found out about them ... her brothers. If she was gone, she'd never get to know Blackie, Judd, and Rebel, or the rest of her newfound family.

That was why, when she hadn't been able to unlock the window, she'd sat down on the floor and cried. She knew that one of her brothers would find her. And once they did, everything would be all right.

Georgia figured she'd hit rock bottom that morning, and knew there was nowhere to go now but up.

After the boys had told her that they were going to find someone to counsel and help her through the rest of her detox, Georgia had actually been relieved. She'd been looking forward to getting advice from someone who'd been there; someone she could relate to and lean on when the going got tough.

She'd been expecting a woman who'd seen and done it all, someone who could tell her things about her body ... like if and when her monthly cycle would get back to normal, if she'd ever again feel comfortable being around any men other than her brothers, and if she would ever stop feeling so dirty and used.

Georgia desperately needed answers to those questions, and had been ready to open up to another woman.

Instead, Blackie, Judd, and Rebel had brought her the last thing on Earth that she'd needed.

A
man
.

It didn't matter that the
man
was their cousin, or that they trusted him.

He was still a
man
, he wasn't
her
cousin, and
she
didn't trust him.

He wasn't coming anywhere near her ... if she had anything to say about it.

Breaking the awkward silence, Wade cleared his throat. “I promised your brothers I'd try and help you,” he informed her.

Georgia turned her head to the side and looked down at him. “Why?"

He shrugged. “Because they asked me to, darlin'."

Why was he so relaxed? Didn't he care that she didn't want anything to do with him? “Stop calling me that!"

Completely ignoring her outburst, Wade reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips and lit up before acknowledging that she'd spoken. “Sorry,” he spat, his demeanor changing instantly, “maybe you'd like, ‘bitch’ better, because that's what you're acting like. You sure as hell ain't a sweet little darlin'."

Shocked by what Wade had just said, Georgia wasn't sure how to respond. No one had ever called her a bitch before. Had she really come across that bad?

Never taking his eyes off her, Wade took a long drag on his cigarette and calmly released the smoke in rings. “Well?"

"No,” she said, hesitantly, “I don't want you to call me ...
that
. Georgia's fine."

"Okay, then,
Georgia
, ever since I cleaned myself up, I sort of have this thing about keeping my word. You know, part of the recovery bit and all.” He paused and looked up at her expectantly. But, not understanding exactly what he wanted her to say, all she could do was stare.

Obviously aware of her confusion, he let her off the hook. “I made a promise to your brothers,” he explained. “They're pretty desperate to help you, and I gave them my word that I'd try. So what do you say we get started?"

Georgia scowled down at him. “Keeping your word?” she asked with over-exaggerated sarcasm, “is that all this is about?"

Wade shrugged, this time lifting his hand and running it through his light hair. “Lookit, Georgia, I don't even know you. I came over here at the ass-crack of dawn on a Monday morning as a favor to my cousins.” He paused then added, “And what the hell is wrong with keeping my word?"

Nothing.

Everything.

Oh, hell, she didn't know.

The only thing Georgia did know was that she now felt like nothing more than a charity case. Sure, she wanted to get better, to unearth the person she was before life as she'd known it had ended with one violent, disgusting act committed by her father.

But Georgia didn't think Wade would be able to help her with that. Or anything else, for that matter. How could he even want to; knowing that she'd had sex with her own father? No, he knew too much about her. He'd probably already tried and convicted her and would never be able to look at her as anything other than what she was; a dirty, worthless whore.

Ready to tell him that he was free of his obligation, that he could leave and there would be no hard feelings, she opened her mouth to speak; but wasn't able to get more than two words out. “I don't—”
Oh no
, she said to herself as a wave of nausea hit her,
not now. Please, not now!

Unfortunately, trying to talk herself out of being sick didn't work. Wade was on his feet and grabbing for the bucket the instant her hand flew to her mouth. He dropped it in front of her as she leaned her head over the side of the bed, and grabbed a handful of her hair just in time to keep it out of her steady stream of vomit.

When her stomach had settled and she was through embarrassing herself, Georgia took a deep breath and nodded to Wade. He released her hair, and handed her one of the paper towels that had been sitting on the stand next to the bed.

Mumbling a quick but quiet thank you, Georgia jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

After rinsing out her mouth and washing her face, she raised her head and took a good look in the mirror. Georgia stared at her pale, gaunt face. She noticed the circles under her eyes were so dark, that it looked like she had black eyes. Her hair, which used to have so much shine and bounce, was now flat and dull, even though she'd just washed it.

Allowing her eyes to travel downward, Georgia lifted her shirt and gazed at herself—bare from the waist up—noticing for the first time exactly how thin and frail she really was. The outline of every one of her ribs was visible. Her waist was so small that had she wanted to, she could probably fit her hands all the way around it. But she was afraid to try; afraid she'd really be able to do it ... afraid of admitting to herself just how close to death she probably was.

There were also black and purple bruises all over her body, caused by nothing other than simply bumping into things.

After staring at herself in the mirror for a good five minutes, Georgia finally admitted to herself that she looked like death warmed over ... and much older than her nineteen years.

God, she was miserable.

Maybe she ought to give in and let Wade try to help her. After all, thanks to her brothers, he already knew everything there was to know about her. He'd been told all the gory details from beginning to end, and even after all that had still been willing to try and save her.

Releasing her shirt and allowing it to fall, once again covering up her emaciated figure, Georgia opened the bathroom door and walked into the hall.

On her way back to the apartment, she wondered vaguely what crow tasted like ... for, like it or not, she was now going to have to eat it. And she wasn't even hungry...

Sitting on the edge of the bed, dragging casually on a Winston and waiting for Georgia to return, Wade looked around the nearly empty apartment. Knowing that one McCassey sibling or another had lived in this room for the past twenty years, Wade wondered if Georgia would live long enough to be the next in line. She looked as bad—if not worse—than any other strung out, half-dead addict he'd ever come into contact with ... including himself.

There was no doubt in Wade's mind that he was probably Georgia's last chance. Her brothers had told him that she'd been on her way to California when she showed up at the garage. They were so worried about their sister right now; he didn't have the heart to tell them that by the looks of her, she probably never would've made it. Most likely, she would've OD'd somewhere along the way. Three-bag-a-day heroin addicts were playing a dangerous, deadly game with their bodies. As small as Georgia was and as often as she was shooting up, she was lucky she'd survived this long.