Chapter 5 #3
Haunting flashbacks mix with the present scene as I watch my intoxicated friend hide his pain in chemicals and women.
One of the models who’s attached herself to him like an appendage is a dancer from our “Better Get Back” video.
She’s always had a crush on him. The other two I’ve never seen before. Probably friends or friends of friends.
Or guests in Room 216 or whatever.
This is exactly the shit that ruined our lives.
I get that addiction is an illness, but understanding something and living with the realities of it are two very different things.
A year ago, I let his addiction almost end my life.
He clearly hasn’t changed like I hoped, and maybe that’s the part that hurts the most. All I’ve ever wanted for him was to be okay.
He said he needed me. I came back for him. Maybe he does, but he doesn’t want me. At least, not as much as he wants his pain and self-destruction.
While I’m still wrestling with whether I can invite this chaos back into my life, Callie filters into view.
Fuck. I can’t imagine what’s going through her head right now. I tried to warn her, but there’s no preparing someone for the demons of Luke Craven when they come out to play.
“He doesn’t care about them,” I say, attempting to read her fears. “I doubt he even knows them.”
It’s not entirely a lie. In the state he’s in, he probably wouldn’t recognize anyone, let alone some dancer he saw for all of three seconds.
“He’s completely wasted. He can barely stand,” Callie says. The horror in her expression tugs at me, but I have no idea how to explain what’s actually happening right now.
“Yeah. Believe me, they wouldn’t have a shot otherwise. He doesn’t fool around like that anymore.”
Her wide eyes tell me we’re not even close to being on the same page about this.
“Wait, what are you saying?” she asks in alarm.
I squint back, confused. “I’m not saying anything.”
“Shouldn’t we do something?” she cries.
“Do what?”
What exactly does she expect me to do? If she knows how to reverse a decade of spiraling, by all means, have at it.
“Casey! This isn’t him! We can’t just let him do this!”
“Do what? What are you so upset about?”
“That! They’re taking him back to his room! ”
She’s right. The party is moving to somewhere more private—like every other time we’ve been in situations like this.
“ Taking him? You act like he doesn’t want to be alone with three models. He’s a big boy, Callie. He can handle himself.”
I bury painful images of the countless times I’ve watched this scene play out. The only difference is, I’m not being dragged into it this time.
Except I am. In the worst way possible.
Once again, I’m watching my life derailed by his bad choices.
You’re not being fair.
No. None of this is fucking fair.
I snag another bottle of champagne from the bar without even waiting for the bartender this time. She needs a new distraction, because the one she’s chosen is only going to chew her up and spit her out.
“Here, have another drink,” I offer before she does something she can’t undo.
Dread seeps through me at her determined expression. Even worse, she now seems mad at me.
She shakes her head with a glare. “No, this isn’t like him. Something’s wrong!”
I bark a bitter laugh at the irony.
“This is exactly like him. That’s what I tried to tell you at breakfast. You don’t actually know him. The guy you know is very different than the real Luke Craven.”
My words come out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t expect all the old trauma to come rushing back.
The time his reckless behavior got us jumped in an alley.
The time I woke up in some random person’s hotel room with no memory of the night before.
The time over and over and over again I paid the price for his choices.
All the times I picked up his broken pieces while the gravel and mud swallowed up my own .
But this is our damage, not hers.
“Look, you’re a very sweet girl,” I say as gently as possible. The demons are shrieking around me. I ignore them. “I totally understand why Luke wants you in his life, and I’m sure you’re really good for him, but he’s not good for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps back.
Maybe I’m losing patience as well. I don’t even understand why we’re fighting about this. What does she know about him other than what he orders off a damn breakfast menu?
“Luke is a force,” I say as evenly as possible. “He’s my brother and I love him, but you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re going to fix him before he destroys you.”
Her startled look morphs into resentment. “You really think so little of your brother? ”
Her words cut deep. She has no idea how precisely she drove the knife into my heart, but what does it matter anymore? This is pointless. This argument, this uphill battle to escape Luke’s shadow, this entire attempt to come back and save him from himself.
If she wants to push the boulder up the mountain for a while, fine.
“Whatever. Good luck with that.” I grip the bottle and take off toward the other side of the room. I have nowhere to go, but I can’t be here anymore.
Guilt creeps in the further I get from the bar.
I see her take off toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. Maybe I should be concerned.
And maybe part of me is even relieved that someone is going to intervene in his mess.
The part of my soul that will always love him hates what I just did.
It still worries about him. Still thinks about what could be happening in that back bedroom.
So yeah, that part of me is glad someone is willing to take on his demons.
Because Luke still needs help, and right now that person can’t be me .
I’m too tired. Too angry. Too hurt to be anything but an enemy and an obstacle. If Callie wants to tag in, she’s more than welcome.
For a minute or two, I’m fine with that. I’m not even bitter that Luke’s drama stole another relationship from me. I expect that now. I knew the moment he mentioned Callie with that little smirk, he’d unintentionally ruin any chance I had with her or anyone else who drifts into our orbit.
You can’t survive Luke, and as I watch our old pattern play out in real-time, reality crashes in.
My heart breaks.
Everything goes dark and muddled around me.
Luke knows all of this as well. He knew he couldn’t prevent himself from destroying everything in his path, so he had to divert his path away from the only person he still cared about.
Me.
How does a deadly hurricane show love? By leaving a sixteen-word note and fleeing as far from his next victim as possible. I read his note all wrong. It wasn’t an apology. It was a goodbye.
My blood goes cold. I can’t breathe as the truth constricts around my lungs, lodging in my heart.
There’s only one place he can go that’s far enough to protect me from himself, and it isn’t a luxury suite in a distant city.
Casey:
I’m sorry. I love you too much to drag you to hell with me.
Luke
He didn’t come here to hide. He came here to stop existing. This party? It’s the cover. And these strangers have no idea they’re not guests. They’re witnesses.
Oh god.
What if I’m too late?