Chapter 24 – Jace
I’d been sitting in the waiting room for three hours without an update on Cathy’s condition when Cassie finally walked from the back of the hospital, where the triage rooms were, back into the waiting room.
She looked completely spent. Sleep pulled at her eyelids as she hunched over with exhaustion deep in her shoulders.
She plopped down next to me, closing her eyes as she laid her head on my shoulder.
“She woke up about an hour ago. They said she’s going to be fine. No major injuries—other than a broken nose and a few lacerations on her face,” Cassie explained, releasing a long breath. She didn’t sound as relieved as I expected, considering her mom had been barely conscious a few hours prior.
“Why do I feel like you’re leaving something out?” I asked, resting my hand on her thigh, hoping to ease some of her tension.
Cassie gave a humorless laugh and shook her head.
“Because I am. She’s high as a kite back there, Jace.
Fresh track marks all over her arms.” Her voice cracked just slightly before she caught it.
“She said the guy was looking for some drugs she was supposed to be holding for him. But she used them instead. Right after she took her last hit, he showed up.”
I stayed quiet, letting her get it all out.
“I begged her to go to rehab,” Cassie continued. “She said no, of course. She’s already asking when she can get discharged from here—probably so she can score again. Too much longer in here and she’s gonna start coming down, if she isn’t already…”
Her words trailed off, frustration and sadness blending in her tone. All I could do was squeeze her leg a little tighter, wishing I could take away even a piece of what she was feeling.
“I’m going to the vending machine. Do you want anything?” Cassie asked, standing and rummaging through her purse for loose change.
“No, I’m okay. I’ll stay here in case someone comes out looking for you.”
She nodded, her shoulders still tense, disappearing down the hallway. The faint hum of fluorescent lights filled the waiting room, along with the smell of burnt coffee and that sharp, sterile scent hospitals can never quite hide. I rubbed a hand over my face as exhaustion settled deep in my bones.
A few minutes later, a man in scrubs came through the double doors, scanning the small group of people scattered around the room. “Family of Cathy Blake?” he called out.
I stood quickly. “That’s me,” I said. “Her daughter stepped out for a minute—she’ll be right back.”
He gave a short nod, looking relieved to have someone to talk to. “We can’t get her to calm down. Maybe you could try talking to her?”
“Uh…” I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to calm down a woman I barely knew. As I contemplated the situation, a loud yell came from behind the man in the scrubs.
“That’s her,” he said, pointing in the direction of the noise, desperate for help.
I walked toward the noise, following the man. What the hell did I have to lose at this point?
As we walked down the chilly hallway, each step I took echoed off the tile.
When I reached her room, Cathy was sitting halfway up in bed, with a hospital blanket draped over her legs.
Her hair was messy, and dried blood had crusted beneath her nose.
The IV in her arm tugged slightly each time she moved.
“Well, look who it is,” she rasped. “You’re that McKinley boy my daughter was hanging around with the other night.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, stopping just inside the doorway. “Cassie went to the vending machine. She’ll be right back.”
“Good,” she muttered. “While you’re here, maybe you can ask them when I can get the hell out of this place.”
I hesitated, then took a small step closer. “You’re right, you shouldn’t be here. Where you need to be is rehab.”
She jerked her head toward me, eyes narrowing. “You sound just like her,” she snapped. “You think you know better?”
I met her gaze. “Actually, I do,” I said quietly. “I’ve been in your exact position. Everyone’s telling you what they think is best for you, and you’re so confident they don’t know a damn thing about you or what you need.”
Her expression faltered for just a second.
I reached into my pocket, my thumb brushing against the familiar smooth edge of my AA coin. Pulling it out, I held it in my palm so she could see. The overhead light caught the metallic surface just enough for the number two to glint faintly.
Her eyes widened, confusion flashing to something else—something closer to disbelief. “You go to Alcoholics Anonymous?” she asked, trying to determine if I was making this up or not.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Two years sober this month.”
She blinked, processing. “Didn’t figure a McKinley boy would know anything about that,” she said, her voice less defensive now.
“You’d be surprised what people hide behind a last name,” I said.
“That’s exactly why judging a book by its cover is bullshit––the same applies to people, too.
Everyone goes through shit, some worse than others.
Just because someone has money or a name everyone in town recognizes, doesn’t mean they don’t understand what it’s like to struggle—to go through hell and back,” I said, stepping closer to her bed.
“What makes you think you can come in here and convince me to go to rehab?” she asked, her irritation clear.
“I’m not here to convince you of anything,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I came in to help you calm down, not make a life-changing decision. But let me ask you this—when you leave here, where are you planning on going?”
Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure out if I really wanted an answer from her or not.
“You can’t go back to your place—it’s trashed.
And whoever you owe those drugs to is probably going to come looking again soon.
Sure, you could stay with Cassie, but how long before you bail because you don’t like the ground rules she lays out for you?
And you know she’ll lay them out. Girl’s stubborn as hell,” I said, a small laugh escaping me despite the heaviness of it all.
Cathy fidgeted with the hospital blanket, twisting it between her fingers.
“So what’s your plan, then?” I asked again sternly.
She stared off toward the wall like it might give her the answer she was looking for.
“You’ve got nowhere to go, Cathy. No one left to turn to,” I said, my words low but firm.
“This is rock bottom. You’re sitting in a hospital bed, trying to figure out where to score your next high while your face is busted up from a dealer who nearly killed you.
You can’t go back to him. So what now? Gonna find a new one?
That’s a long, dangerous night waiting to happen. ”
I didn’t say it to be cruel. Sometimes the truth has to sting before it can save you.
“After I sobered up and went to rehab, I learned a lot,” I said. “Did a hell of a lot of thinking and listening depending on the day.” I leaned back a little and sighed. “Here’s my best advice—take it or leave it. It can go in one ear and out the other, I don’t give a damn either way.”
Cathy looked at me warily.
“The truth is, you’ll always choose drugs over Cassie until you choose yourself over the drugs,” I said quietly. “Getting sober isn’t about making everyone else happy. It’s about finding a way to be happy with yourself first. Because that’s the only way anyone else can be happy for you.”
Her eyes dropped to her lap.
“And that’s all Cassie wants from you,” I added, my voice softening. “For you to be the best, happiest version of yourself. She loves you more than you realize. But she’s running out of ways to save you. And you’re running out of time to save yourself.”
The triage room door slid open, stopping me. Cassie walked in, carrying snacks from the vending machine. Totally oblivious to the serious moment playing out between Cathy and me.
“I talked with the doctor at the counter. He said you can go home tonight if you want, Mom,” she said, relief softening her voice. “He’ll be right back with your discharge papers, then we can get out of here.”
Cassie turned to me. “Can you please give us a ride back to my place?”
“Of course,” I said without hesitation.
The rest of the night went smoother than it had started.
Cassie’s mom was discharged an hour later.
I drove both of them back to Cassie’s house.
Cassie was confident she could handle her mom by herself for one night.
I wanted to stay so I could help Cassie if she needed it, but I didn’t want to overstep.
She promised she’d be fine without me, so I left her standing in the glow of her porch light, watching until she went inside.
By the time I got home, it was past midnight. I was exhausted, but my mind refused to shut off. I couldn’t stop thinking about Cassie and her mom… about the guy who’d done this—whether he’d figure out where Cathy was staying and show up at Cassie’s house.
After thirty minutes of staring at the ceiling––my thoughts running wild––I gave up on sleep altogether.
Throwing on an old sweatshirt, I grabbed my keys off the counter and headed for my truck.
Call it overprotective or borderline crazy, but I didn’t care.
If that man Casey’s mom owed drugs to came looking for trouble, I wanted to make damn sure he didn’t find Cassie home alone without someone there to protect her.
The drive to her place was quiet. By the time I turned onto her street, most of the houses were dark.
I parked a few doors down, close enough to keep a close eye on things but far enough that she wouldn’t notice my truck if she happened to look out a window.
My black pistol gleamed under the moon light, sitting ready on my center console in case trouble decided to arrive.
I leaned back in the seat, the engine ticking as it cooled. Cassie’s porch light was still on, a soft glow spilling across the front steps.
I sat there for hours, watching, thinking, half-dozing off but never really asleep. Night bled into morning with the horizon morphing into shades of pink and gold.
When the sun finally came up, I watched Cassie back out of her driveway headed to the same place she does every morning.
As her SUV rounded the corner out of sight, I passed out, not waking until the afternoon.