Almost Home (Lactin Brotherhood: Broken Boys #1)

Chapter 1

JOSHUA

I'd been carrying the decision around for almost three weeks before it stopped feeling like a decision and started feeling like a plan.

It took me that long to figure out that a decision was something you could talk yourself out of at two in the morning when everything felt scary and confusing. But a plan was solid. It had a shape to it. A start, a middle, and an end.

And I was ready to start.

Just saying that in my head was a huge relief.

I lay there in the shitty apartment I’d been living in for months and soaked in the sense of calm as it settled over me. I didn't feel scared or even sad to be at the end of this journey. I felt almost excited to move forward…if that was how you could describe it.

I’d given myself a year to figure shit out because that was a reasonable amount of time. Nothing happened overnight, and sometimes weeks turned into months in the blink of an eye. But a year was enough time to acknowledge that I’d hit rock bottom and wasn’t ever gonna make my way back up.

There were just a lot of things stacked against me. Small things that forced me to take stock of my life and realize there were way too many cons to ever catch up with the pros.

Losing my job when the owner filed for bankruptcy might have been the pinnacle, but there were a lot of other problems that couldn’t get resolved with more time.

Like Mom telling me to figure it out on my own when I got evicted because she didn’t want me at her place.

Or the power getting turned off because I was months behind in all my bills.

Those moments were just motivation to finally do what I needed to do.

After cleaning out my apartment and taking all my stuff down to the dumpster so the landlord wouldn’t have to deal with it, I hopped on my bike and rode into Pescadero.

That was where Grandpa used to take me on Sunday mornings to play on the beach or eat breakfast at Woody’s when I stayed at his cabin.

My earliest memories were in that town, so it seemed fitting that my last ones would be there too.

It was quiet for a Sunday evening and nobody was paying attention to me as I parked in front of Woody’s and headed inside. I’d emptied out my last $207 from the bank, but I didn’t need that much for my dinner.

Woody's had about ten tables and a chalkboard menu above the register that hadn't changed in at least twenty years.

I always sat at the same stool, and Jeanette always brought me a glass of milk without my asking.

I liked that about her. It was nice to have one place in my life where someone knew what I needed before I had to ask for it.

The glass was cold in my hand as I chugged half of it down in one breath. I wasn’t in a hurry, per se, but there was no need to drag things out.

“Mac and cheese with nuggets?” Jeanette pressed the end of her pen to her chin and waited for me to respond.

“No nuggets today. I think I’d like pancakes with my mac and cheese.” I pushed the unopened menu toward her. “Please and thank you, Jeanette.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” She smiled and nodded toward the glass. “You gonna need a refill after that?”

I wanted to say yes but that would just be wasteful. “No, thanks. Water’s fine.”

While I waited for my food, I looked around and really soaked in every detail of the dated decor and familiar faces.

Woody’s had regulars that came in every day, so several of the older folks were locals I’d been seeing for years.

It wasn’t a fancy place, but it was homey. And home was what I was looking for.

The pancakes came first, and I savored every bite, dragging each piece through a pool of syrup until my plate was clean. Then I dug into my mac and cheese. The pasta was soft and the cheese was rehydrated from a fluorescent orange powder, just the way I liked it.

I almost stopped after that, but ice cream sounded so good that I couldn’t resist a sundae too. Besides, I wanted it, and there was nobody around to stop me.

As I was mixing the fudge at the bottom of the bowl with the melted ice cream, the door opened and a man came in. He was big and solid and easily the most attractive man I’d seen in a very long time.

He took a table near the window, and Jeanette went right over to greet him. They talked like they knew each other, but it wasn’t my business, so I turned away and took the last sip of water from my glass.

The reflection off the window gave me a perfect view of the handsome stranger.

He had the kind of face that made me stare just a few seconds too long.

Long enough that he caught me looking. But he didn't make it weird.

He might have winked at me through the reflection, but I turned away too quickly to be sure.

No sense making any kind of connection to anyone at this point.

It was too late.

And it wouldn’t be fair to him. A man like that would be worth living for, and he probably had some waiting for him at home. In fact, I hoped he did. I hoped he had a wonderful life.

“Can I get you anything else?” Jeanette was back to collect my dishes.

“No, thank you.” I stood up and grabbed my wallet. My bill was under thirty bucks, but I pulled out all the cash I had and tucked it under the edge of my napkin. “You’ve been great. I’ve always appreciated your kindness.”

She cocked her head and had a weird expression on her face. “Of course, kid. I’ll see you next time.”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. That was the best and only goodbye anyone was gonna get.

I was halfway to the door when I heard a deep and rumbling voice behind me. "Hey, bud. You doing okay?"

I stopped and looked back to see who he was talking to.

To my surprise, he was watching me and patiently waiting for me to respond, like he had all the time in the world.

"Uh, yeah. Fine." That wasn’t even a lie. I was more content than I could remember feeling in years.

He nodded and turned back to his menu as I walked outside.

My old Harley cruiser was parked out front, and I went straight to her.

She was older than me but in much better condition.

She was perfect. The only good thing in my life.

I'd told myself I kept her in good shape because I needed transportation, and that was partially true, but the real reason was that she was the last thing my grandfather left me. Letting her go felt like losing the only person who had ever been glad I existed. So I kept her running even when I barely was. And now, hopefully, she’d find a new home with someone who’d love her just as much.

After taking a beat to acknowledge how much I appreciated her, I patted the tank once and started her up.

The road north out of Pescadero ran along the cliffs, and I took it slow because I had a particular place in mind.

There was nobody behind me, and the road curved and climbed in a way that always made me feel like I was the only person left in the world.

The ocean was just beyond the rocks, and the familiar rumble brought me an even deeper sense of peace.

This was what I needed.

There was a pull-out I liked to stop at because it was narrow and almost nobody ever stopped there. It was past a bend that made most drivers nervous, and since the guardrail there was old and rickety, they kept driving to the larger stops that offered plenty of parking and photo ops.

I pulled in and cut the engine so I could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. That was the last sound I’d ever hear.

After climbing off, I rolled the bike away from the edge and set her on the kickstand in a flat part of the gravel where she'd be stable.

I didn't want her to fall over or be at risk of getting swiped by a car taking the turn too wide.

I straightened the handlebars out of habit and stood back to give her a final once-over.

She looked good. She'd be fine.

I had one cigarette left in a crumpled pack in my jacket pocket, so I pulled it out and lit it up. I slowly walked to the guardrail and enjoyed the familiar taste for the last time. Warmth filled my chest as I built up to what was coming next.

I finished it down to the filter and tucked the butt into my pocket. Just because I wasn’t gonna be around to enjoy the environment didn’t mean I needed to become a litterbug.

After a few more minutes of just standing there, I pulled out the two orange prescription bottles I'd been carrying around for weeks. I held one in each hand and looked at them for a second as I let the full moment pass over me.

My hands were steady and warm, despite the cool ocean air. Everything felt warm. Peaceful.

The waves broke on the rocks below in a constant roar that drowned out all other noises. If cars were passing, I didn’t hear them. If animals were watching, I didn’t see them. Everything that had been weighing on me slowly dissipated and went quiet.

I opened the first bottle and shook out half the pills into my palm. I’d been saving my sleeping pills for a while, mostly because I slept a lot and rarely needed them. Without giving myself time to get scared, I tossed the whole handful into my mouth and swallowed them dry.

The fog was starting to roll in and my face almost felt damp from the humidity.

Or maybe I was sweating. Didn’t matter. I dropped the first bottle and grabbed the second one.

The oxy I was prescribed when I had a wisdom tooth removed a few years back was expired, but I figured it would still do the trick.

Since it usually made me nauseous, I only took a few.

Five was a few, right? Between the benzos and the opioids, I wasn’t worried the job would get done.

Once I felt like I’d taken the most important step in the process, I carefully replaced the lids of the containers and put them on the ground. Whoever found my bike could have a little present too. I just didn’t want to kill a poor seagull or raccoon because of my laziness.

The first hints that my mind was drifting came when I heard my grandpa’s voice behind me. Just like when I was a kid.

“I’m coming, Grandpa.” I closed my eyes and took a step toward the cliff. “I’m almost home.”