4. Xander
Chapter 4
Xander
" Y ou want me to do what?" Dex asked, peering out from under the car he was working on.
I should have known from the look on his face that this was a terrible idea.
"I want you to keep an eye on me. Be my intervention person if it looks like I'm going to go off the rails. Stop me before I get to the point of doing something stupid." My voice trailed off as I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the familiar weight of vulnerability settle in my chest.
Dex slid out from under the car and stood up, throwing his wrench into the toolbox with a clatter.
"Yeah, I'm not doing that," he said softly, nodding over to the back office of the garage.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and followed him inside, fully aware that I was pouting right now.
"Sit," Dex said, pointing to a chair before he grabbed two bottles of water from a mini fridge and tossed one to me.
"Not because I don't care about you, Xander. But because you don't need it. You need to start trusting yourself more, and the last thing you need is a crutch in your mind, thinking I'm constantly looking over your shoulder."
I cracked the lid of the water bottle and took a deep drink while I tried to stop my runaway thoughts.
It wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, I knew it wasn't. In fact, my sponsor would have kicked my ass for even suggesting it.
But it felt like I was in a free fall right now. What was so wrong about wanting to cling onto a parachute?
"Is it really that bad?" Dex asked softly.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I'm not sitting here desperate for a drink or anything. I'm just..." I sighed, stretching out my legs as I leaned back in the chair, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Do you ever feel like you can't get anything right?"
Dex barked out a laugh. "We did grow up in the same town, right?"
I grinned. This was why I'd come to Dex. When we were kids, he'd always been one bad decision away from a great time. The only time I ever felt like a kid was when I was around Dex. There were no expectations, no rules most of the time. But there was one thing we'd always had. And that was each other.
All of us Farrington boys, and yes I included Dex in that.
I hadn't felt as free as I did back then for a long time. Even with my mother constantly looking over my shoulder and all the shit going on at home.
Dex had a gift of making all that slip into the background.
Alcohol had been my escape when I found myself alone, and I'd paid a high price for that. But now I was back here, back where it all began and I didn't know how to live this way anymore.
"Look, I'm always going to have your back, Xander. And I'm not the only one. You have a support system here, and you can lean on any one of us. But I think you're selling yourself short, brother." Dex leaned forward, his eyes serious in a way they rarely were. "I know you're worried about how all this is going to affect your sobriety. But you can't let that fear stop you from living your life."
His words hit home harder than I wanted to admit. I was terrified of relapsing, of disappointing everyone again, of disappointing myself . It was easier to think about avoiding life altogether than to risk failing at it.
"My life? I don't even know what that looks like anymore."
"Well, what do you want it to look like?"
I looked at my oldest friend in surprise. Booker had said something similar the day before. Why was everyone asking the same question? The one I obviously didn't have any answer for.
What did I want my life to look like?
I didn't think I'd ever even thought about it before. There was a path I'd been set on and I just followed it. I couldn't even remember if it was one I'd chosen for myself.
"I'm not sure I'm ready for relationships," I finally admitted, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at me since I'd first laid eyes on Blake with her sparkling eyes filled with mischief and maddening pink hair. "Everything I read says dating during early recovery is a bad idea."
"Who said anything about dating?" Dex asked with a sly grin that told me he knew exactly what—or who—had been on my mind.
"No one," I said too quickly. "I'm just saying."
"Look, there's a difference between jumping headfirst into something destructive and just... noticing someone. You're allowed to notice people, Xander."
I shook my head, not having the guts to say more aloud.
"Maybe that's where you need to start then. Do one of those Eat Pray Love things." He waved his hand in the air like he hadn't just pulled up a reference I never would have guessed he knew. "What? I'm all cultured and stuff!"
I snorted at that. Culture was one thing Willowbrook had never been able to claim. Not like the city. There wasn't much of anything to do here, but I guess that was part of the charm. I had to admit that now I was back here, there was something about the quiet that I'd missed. The peace that lay between the everyday moments.
"So you think the answer is to leave and wander around the globe until I find myself?"
Dex blinked in surprise. His mouth opened and then closed, before he frowned and added, "I didn't realize it meant that. Let's come up with a plan B."
We fell into silence and my mind immediately turned to Gage. My brother had left town on his eighteenth birthday and none of us had heard from him again. None of us had ever spoken of the worst possibility. Unable to face the obvious answer that he'd never come back because something terrible had happened. Our father had been secretly keeping track of Gage but even he'd lost his trail a while ago.
Booker was convinced he could bring him home. I think Trace was still holding onto that hope too. Hope was in limited supply with me these days and I’d started to think it was a lost cause. If Gage wanted to come home he would have a long time ago. Maybe it would even be wrong to force him back to this place when he was so intent on staying away.
I'd certainly never intended to be back in the town where it had all begun.
And yet, everything seemed different now.
Mother was gone and hopefully for good. The relationship I had with my brothers was slowly pulling tighter. That image of a happy family that I'd seen on TV growing up, and always thought to be a lie, was slowly starting to feel more like reality. Hell, we were having family dinners and I didn't hate every minute of them like I'd assumed I would.
I might even go as far as to say that I had a good time.
It was hard not to when she was there. The infuriating pink-haired woman who seemed to draw my eye no matter where she stood in the room.
It was probably a long dormant self-preservation instinct. The woman was a menace. She actually propositioned me in public to ask me to pose naked for her! Right in the middle of the bakery! Talking of self-preservation instincts, I'd felt every woman over the age of sixty turn to look at me and had never felt more objectified in all my life.
I swear I saw Mrs. Shulster wink at me.
Mrs. Shulster! She taught me in eighth grade!
I shuddered at the thought.
"One breath, one moment, one day," I whispered to myself, the mantra that had gotten me through the darkest moments of withdrawal and early sobriety. When the cravings hit, when everything seemed too much, I'd focus on just getting through this one breath, this one moment, this one day.
"What's that?" Dex asked.
"Nothing," I mumbled, embarrassed to be caught in my ritual. "Just something my sponsor taught me."
Dex nodded, not pushing further, and I felt a rush of gratitude for his quiet understanding.
"So, about that girl with the pink hair..." he said with a mischievous grin.
"She's just someone I've noticed, that's all," I said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. The pink hair comment kind of gave away who I was talking about. It wasn’t exactly common around here. “Not that it matters. I'm not... it's just not a good idea right now."
"Says who?"
"Says every recovery book ever written. Dating in early sobriety is a recipe for disaster."
"Who said anything about dating? Maybe you just need a friend who isn't me or your brothers. Someone who didn't know you before. Besides, it’s not like you’re in your first week, Xander. You have to pick up your life again at some point."
"I will. I am," I said firmly, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck. "Like I said, bad idea." Even if all the ideas of what I wanted to do to her kept me awake most nights.
"Why is your face doing that?" Dex asked, waving his hand in front of me and I quickly slapped it away.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You went starry-eyed and then got that same expression you had when I almost convinced you to jump off your grandfather's barn roof."
"When you almost convinced me to nearly kill myself you mean?" I shook my head in exasperation as the memory came back. Did I mention that Dex might have been a bit reckless when we were kids?
"I still think the mud would have broken your fall!"
"It was a puddle," I deadpanned. "And it was only an inch deep."
"There was straw in it too, and there was probably a squishy layer at the bottom."
Dex shrugged like I was worrying about nothing and I decided that the next time we were at the ranch I was recreating that damn puddle and making him climb onto the barn roof. Then we'd see how much he thought jumping would be.
Second thoughts, he'd probably do it just to find out for definite.
He might be infuriating at times, but I kinda liked having him in my life.
"How on earth did we survive this long?" I laughed softly as thoughts of all our other misadventures filled my mind.
"No idea. But seeing as we did, might as well make the most of it, right?"
Make the most of it.
We were back to that damned unanswered question then.
What the hell was I going to do with the rest of my life?
Last night's nightmare flashed through my mind—the one where I was back in the ER, a critical patient coding in front of me, and my hands were frozen, useless. In the dream, the patient's face kept shifting between strangers and people I loved, but I couldn't save any of them. I'd woken up drenched in sweat, heart pounding.
I hadn't told anyone about the nightmares. Not even my sponsor.
"Hey," I said, changing the subject. "Did Booker tell you about Jasper's pushing his offer to fund the rehab center expansion again?"
Dex's eyebrows shot up. "No, he didn't. Your old man's actually opening his wallet?"
"He tried," I said, feeling a strange pride. "Booker turned him down. We want to build this ourselves, prove we can do it without his money."
"Bold move," Dex nodded appreciatively. "Risky though, isn't it? That kind of facility costs a fortune."
"Yeah, well, some risks might be worth taking." I found myself smiling despite the weight of everything we'd discussed. "We've got a good plan. And we've got something to prove—to ourselves more than anyone else."
Traveling around Europe was never going to be the answer for me. I might be doubting myself nearly every moment of every day, but something inside me resisted the idea of running away again. Maybe it was time to plant my own roots, see what might grow.
Even if that pink-haired distraction was going to make it a whole lot more complicated.