Drifting Hearts (The Anchor #2)

1. Clayton

Chapter 1

Clayton

Everything hurt and I wished I were dying. It would be better than lying in a hospital bed, trying to bring myself to meet Archer’s wounded gaze. He was too good of a person sometimes and I hated what I’d done to him. I never wanted the hospital to call him, but he was my emergency contact when I had my appendix removed a few years ago and I guess I’d never gotten around to changing that.

Truthfully, I forgot. I wished I could forget what I’d done to him or the reasons why. To repay him for years of loyal friendship, I’d taken the liberty of emptying the business accounts and pissing it away trying to improve my fortunes. Spoiler alert, I lost my shirt. I’d ruined the best friendship I ever had on what I was positive was a sure thing.

And the worst part of it was, even though I hated myself for doing it, if I could turn back time, I’d probably make the same exact mistake. I wasn’t sure when my fun little gambling habit had turned into an obsession, then a sickness, but before I realized what was going on, it had taken hold of my life. Every cent I made went to slots or online casinos. Horse races. Fantasy football. If you could bet on it, I wanted in.

“Are you listening to anything I’ve been saying?” Archer asked, his voice sharp and cutting. His expression was equal parts exasperation and agony and I hated myself for doing that to him .

“Yeah, sorry. It’s… Sorry.” The only thing I had to offer was excuses and he didn’t need to hear that my whole body ached. My blood burned like battery acid flowed in my veins. And I was still fucking terrified.

“You’re not okay to go home, are you?” Archer asked me, his voice softening a little, like he forgot to hate me.

“Fourth floor. No elevator. And it’s where…” I trailed off, unwilling or unable to bring myself to finish the sentence. It didn’t matter. Archer got the point. But it was Shane who swore under his breath.

“We’ll get something worked out,” Shane said to me, or maybe to Archer. When I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, they got the hint and left the room.

Faking sleep turned into the real thing. When I woke later, my room was empty except for the guy on the other side of the curtain and the nurse who zipped around the room checking my vitals.

A tray of shitty hospital food sat to my left and I let out a sad little groan. The only thing worse than fresh hospital food was cold hospital food. For that reason alone I wished Sam’s guys had finished the job. Anything was better than the sad fucking look on Archer’s face every time he saw me and cold turkey with cold mushy peas.

When the nurse left, Shane stepped into the room. Archer was nowhere to be seen.

“Came to his senses and left, did he?” This time I was able to look Shane in the eyes. It felt right that Archer would leave. I deserved it.

“He’s in the waiting room.” Shane pulled the chair closer to the side of the bed and dropped down into it. He didn’t look comfortable or like he planned to stay awhile. Maybe he just got tired of looming over me like Archer’s hired muscle .

He leaned closer to my bedside. I didn’t really know Shane, but I bet he was built like he wouldn’t have to call a friend if he had to hide a body.

“I paid your friends.”

He couldn’t have shocked me more if he’d taken a taser to my nutsack.

“You what? How?”

Horror and relief made my stomach flip-flop, and Shane must have read it on my face because he scooted back a little.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not an asshole, and neither is Archer. And I can. I’ve also found you a place to stay until you heal enough to take care of yourself.”

“Where?” It felt like a dream. A really fucked-up dream. Had the nurse slipped something into the three bites of mushy peas I’d choked down?

“Here’s what’s going to happen. My mom runs a shelter for women escaping abusive situations. And while you’re not a woman, and she usually doesn’t take men, the threat to the girls in the house is minimal from a guy with half a body that’s busted. Your bookie is paid, you’re no longer in any danger, unless you owe more debts I don’t know about. But I couldn’t find anything on your phone.”

“You were in my phone?” I tried to sound indignant and enraged, but I only managed to sound like a slightly perturbed, whiny child.

“How do you think I managed to pay your bookie?” Shane leaned closer again, now that the immediate threat of me vomiting had passed. “You need help.”

It wasn’t anything I hadn’t told myself a thousand times a day, but I could always reason my way out of it. Bending logic to suit my selfish needs was a specialty of mine. But hearing it from Shane, from anyone else who wasn’t me, made my heart clench. He was right. I knew he was right. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, being put in the hospital because of your own mistakes had a way of forcing a person to be honest with themselves.

“I know.”

“So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m keeping your phone. You don’t need it. I’ve dumped all the gambling apps anyway. I paid Sam. Tomorrow, Archer and I are going to your place to get any of your important things. The rest is going in storage. My brother Kieran isn’t impressed with me, but when you’re ready to be released, he’s going to pick you up and take you to our mom’s house.” Shane stood and took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to me. “This is your therapist. He specializes in trauma and addictions. As long as you’re under my mother’s roof, you’re going to attend therapy. There’s one casino where you’re going, and they already have your picture and instructions not to let you in there.”

“You work fast.”

“You have a problem, Clayton.”

“Just one? I must be slipping.” Even I wanted to punch myself in the mouth, but Shane ignored my attempt at humor, or whatever that was.

“Archer doesn’t want to see you, but he’s not willing to let you suffer. I’m doing all this for him, and if you can’t muster up enough shits about yourself to turn your life around, maybe you can manage to do it for Archer.”

What could I say in response? No, please, let me go home alone to my busted, ruined, bare bones apartment that I’m being evicted from. My lonely hovel wouldn’t be the same without me skulking around in it. Please let me try to figure out how I’m going to make it up the four flights of stairs on a busted leg .

Would I see Archer again? I doubted it. Something told me he was finished with me for good, and only through the grace of not being a shitty human was he willing to help me. I was like the stray dog, dirty and flea ridden, that no one wanted, but no one wanted to watch it suffer either. Like the stray dog, I was being shuffled off to a shelter too. I’d have laughed if I thought it was funny and not tragically pathetic.

I didn’t have the energy to open my mouth and tell Shane that I’d try not to let Archer down again. It felt like a lie anyway. Like disappointing everyone around me was inevitable.

“Thank you,” I said instead, knowing it wasn’t enough. “I don’t have money, but I can stay somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

“And where is this other place that you’d stay?”

When I couldn’t answer him, Shane nodded. “You’ll stay where I put you. You’ll see the therapist. You’ll get on your feet. It’s the least you can do. When you’re ready to be discharged, Kieran will pick you up.”

Shane left the room, taking all the oxygen with him. How the hell was I supposed to pay Archer back for money I took, plus pay Shane back for covering my debts? The old me would’ve immediately thought of going to the track. Or the casino. I had good luck on the tables sometimes. Not with poker, but blackjack I was good with. Only now I couldn’t do that. Shane had cut me off at the knees. Not that I could make it to a casino on my own at the moment. Or that I had any money to spend there to begin with.

Is this what rock bottom looks like?

Knowing you had a problem was one thing. I’d known since I took the money from Archer that I had a problem. I knew before then, but that had been the tipping point for me. The moment when everything went from bad to worse. Because if I could fuck over my best friend, I was a piece of shit. And I might as well continue to be one because there was no way to fix what I’d done. Even if I won ten million dollars, no amount of cash could repair the damage that I’d done to our friendship.

At first I told myself that he’d forgive me. But the moment the money was gone, I knew it wasn’t true. And suddenly I couldn’t face him. Rock bottom wasn’t when Sam’s guys came and worked me over. It was when Archer walked in and looked at me with hate and pity, and a sadness that I was responsible for. Never before had I hated myself so completely.

And yet he didn’t abandon me. He should have.

Shane and Archer didn’t come back to see me. The next time I saw someone who didn’t work for the hospital was the morning of my discharge when a guy who looked a bit like Shane wandered into my hospital room.

If looks could kill.

His eyes were ice blue and twice as cold. Either he had the strongest resting bitch face on the planet, or he hated me on sight. I voted for both.

“You must be Kieran.”

“Here’s some clothes.” Kieran dropped a bag on the bed. “I talked to the nurse, and they’re coming around with your discharge paperwork. I’ll be back.”

Kieran was a frosty motherfucker. Not that I blamed him. It was refreshing in a way. Shane had been as nice to me as he could manage, but because he didn’t want to upset Archer, he hadn’t been openly hostile. Kieran clearly gave zero shits about any of that. He looked like he might enjoy pushing my wheelchair into oncoming traffic or kicking my crutches out from under me.

I didn’t mind the way he openly hated me. It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve .

By the time the nurse came in to give me ten thousand instructions, I’d worn myself out changing into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I signed everything with my non-dominant hand. My signature looked like a kindergarten kid wrote it, but it was good enough to spring me from the hospital.

There were no flower arrangements and get well soon gifts to pack up or deal with, not that I deserved any, or had anyone who might send me one. The nurse helped me into a wheelchair just as Kieran came back into the room, his face dark and brooding like a thundercloud.

“Ready?”

No. I wasn’t.

“Yeah.” I stifled the chill that swept over me when Kieran approached.

He didn’t speak to me on the way down the elevator. Or on the way to the parking lot. We got to his truck and I looked at it and tried to wobble to my feet… my foot. Unsure how I was supposed to get in.

“For fuck sake.” Kieran yanked the passenger door open and scooped me up like I weighed nothing. He deposited me on the passenger seat, not exactly carefully, but with enough consideration that he didn’t bump my arm or my leg.

By the time he collapsed the wheelchair and stowed it in the back seat, I’d managed to sit somewhat comfortably, even if the act of moving my legs and buckling my seatbelt was a monumental task. Kieran shut my door, then got in the driver’s seat.

Exhaustion made my eyelids too heavy to open. I let myself lean back and didn’t worry about trying to make small talk. Kieran clearly had no use for me and it made it more comfortable somehow. Knowing that he already thought the worst of me and I couldn’t disappoint him .

“Thank you,” I said, because I was fucked up, but I still had manners.

“Don’t mention it,” Kieran snarled, meaning every syllable.

I didn’t blame him.

I didn’t like me either.