Chapter Twenty-Three
Mac
Two Months Sober
The sound of a low growl has my ears perking up. Looking across the yard, I see my brother’s dog crouched down low, staring at the very bush I’m hiding in.
Dammit Parker, fuck off.
Rhett casts his eyes over to where Parker growls but decides to ignore him and keep walking.
“Uncle Mac, where are you?” He sing-songs, and I actually have to work to not laugh at him.
Just a little closer and I’ve got him. My nephew takes a couple more steps in my direction before I pop up and fire my neon blue toy gun right at his shoulder before ducking back down.
He runs full force to the bush I’m hiding in and attacks it with as many bright orange foam bullets as he can rain down on me at once.
Popping up, I ambush him, throwing him over my shoulder and running through the yard.
His laugh puts my nerves about my big day at ease.
When I finally set him down on the ground and sit beside him, we’re both trying to catch our breath.
“Hey, Uncle Mac?” He turns to face me, and I mimic his movements.
“Yeah, Bear?”
“I’m glad you didn’t use your gun the night I found you in the bathroom.”
If my eyes could fall out of my head, they would. Holy fuck, he saw me. I can feel the color draining from my face.
“Little Bear, that wasn’t— I wasn’t—” I stutter over my words.
“It’s okay. My Daddy says you didn’t know what you were doing and were sick. He says you’re better now. I like that you’re better, Uncle Mac. I would have been really sad without you.” He has no idea that I want to go back and beat the fuck out of myself for letting him see that.
“I’m working very hard to be better now. I’m really sorry about that, Rhett. I’m sure that was so scary for you.”
“It’s okay. You just have to promise to be safe. That wasn’t a safe thing to do.” His little face is stern and I feel like shit already, so I can’t even find it in me to smile about how cute he looks.
“You’re right, that was dangerous, and not anything I’ll ever do again. Safe, Promise.” I nod as I say the words so he knows I’m serious. He climbs into my lap and wraps his arms around me like he used to do to fall asleep when he was a little younger.
“You don’t play with real guns like that, Uncle Mac. Da said they can really hurt you. Like, really bad.” He looks up at me with eyes wide.
“He’s right, guns are not toys. Fake guns that are silly colors are okay, but you don’t touch any gun without making sure it takes orange foam bullets first.”
“Yes, sir. Did you know my Da cries?”
I’m taken back by the sudden change of subject but decide to roll with it.
“I did know that. Your Da is one of the best men I know. He loves and cares about you, your Ma, and ‘new baby’ so much. I’m not surprised he’s shed a few tears.”
“No, I saw him cry because you were sick. I sneaked in their room one night and saw it. He said he was scared. Are you sure you won’t get sick again?” His face is a mask of worry, and I want to shield him from every single bad thing that has ever or will ever happen in this world.
“I promise I’ll do everything in my power not to, Little Bear.” Pressing my lips to his forehead, I have to shut my eyes and take a few seconds to get my shit together. I’ve hurt them more than I even know. All I can do is try to be better now.
“I love you, Bear.” I whisper against his brow.
“I love you, Uncle Mac.” He smiles at me.
* * *
Just two hours later I’m sitting in my therapist’s office repeating what happened. Justin’s cool. He listens, and he helps me work through my shit. He’s also a recovering alcoholic with twenty years of sobriety under his belt. So he can definitely relate to the things I go through.
“So what happened after the conversation with your nephew?” He asks me, and I close my eyes to picture it as I tell him.
“He ran off not long after to help his Ma with something, and I went straight to his Da to talk to him about it. I can’t keep secrets anymore. I can’t sweep this under the rug.”
“That’s good, Mac. How did that conversation go?” He’s not patronizing the way so many therapists can be.
“He told me that he was pissed for a while. Hell, he still has every right to be pissed now. I apologized and told him I had no idea that Rhett saw anything. He promised me that they’d worked through it already, and they weren’t angry at me. I don’t know how they aren’t. I’m angry at myself.”
“It’s really important to take ownership for things you did while in active addiction, which is what you did by talking to Rowan.
I’m proud of you for that. However, you cannot let that guilt drag you backwards.
It happened; you talked to them about it.
It sounds like you acknowledged both of their feelings and apologized. That’s not an easy thing to do.”
“Thank you, I really am trying.”
We switch gears to Lee and how I get to see her tonight.
How my nerves about that are through the roof, but I’m working through it.
We talk about the cravings and how I want to crawl out of my skin most days still because I just want that drink.
I can’t do that though, it’s counterproductive to my recovery.
I think this is where the fact that I think very logically comes into play.
I can’t just have one drink or one sip. One will never be one until it’s the last one and I die from it.
Once my session is done and I walk out of the office, I dial Lee.
It rings out and goes to voicemail. Hanging up, I text her and let her know I’ll be there as soon as my meeting is over in a few hours.
She might be in the shower or asleep. She thinks I don’t notice how she skirts around my asking about her and how she’s doing from a health perspective, but I do.
I have eyes on her apartment still, so I know something is going on, and tonight I’ll find out what that is.
Dialing Davis, he answers on the second ring, “What’s up, Byrne?”
“Meet at the diner before our meeting?” We keep calls pretty short because we both hate talking on the phone unless we’re talking to our women.
“Depends. You ready to man up and get started on that fourth step?”
“Ha-ha you’re so funny. I’m plenty of ‘man’ thanks for the concern. But seriously, yeah. How soon can you meet?”
“Be there in thirty. We’ll get through it together.”
I loudly exhale before responding, “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” We exchange goodbyes and hang up. After sliding into my Jeep, my phone vibrates in my hand before I have a chance to toss it in my cup holder. I decide to check it before pulling out.
Mac: I’ll see you as soon as my meeting is over. I can’t wait to hold you tonight, Beautiful.
Lee: I’m so excited. Have a good meeting, then come to me. I’ve missed you.
The smile that takes over my face is involuntary.
Mac: I’ll be there before you know it. I’m going to meet up with Davis before. I’ve missed you more than there are sharks in the ocean.
Lee: How do I know you mean that?
She’s teasing, I can tell. But I give her what she’s looking for nonetheless.
Mac: Because I tell you the truth baby, Always.
Lee: See you soon, Handsome. Truth, Always.
* * *
Lee
The past month has moved so slowly that I feel like it’s been four months instead of just weeks.
I’m trying not to tell Mac so much about what’s been going on with me because he’s so immersed in therapy and his sobriety journey.
As he should be. I don’t want to take any of that from him.
He worries so easily. We talk on the phone every night and text constantly, but it isn’t the same as having him with me, and I miss him.
Tonight’s the night he comes over though, and I’m trying to make myself look better than I feel.
He texted me that he was going out to dinner with Davis before his meeting.
From what he’s told me, he’s doing really well.
He’s starting his fourth step, and I know he’s really nervous about it.
I’m also working on my fourth step in Al-Anon.
Thankfully, my sponsor is Clara. She started Al-Anon when Mac and I first reconnected.
I guess they tried to force him to get sober around that time.
He wasn’t ready so it didn’t click, but she stuck with the program.
Because she’s my sponsor it’s more comfortable to filet myself open to her versus someone who has no idea about the lives I’ve lived and the family I’ve come from.
As if just thinking about her conjured her up, my phone starts ringing and Clara’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey, where are you?” I ask as soon as I answer. She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.
“I’m outside of your door. Rowan took a little longer telling me bye than I anticipated.” I can practically see her crimson cheeks in my mind. Rowan and Clara have been together for years, and yet he still can’t keep his hands off of her for more than a few hours.
“I’m coming. I mean, not like you probably just were, but I’m walking to the door to let you in.” Working hard to fight back my grin as I open the door to a shocked Clara. She hangs up her cell phone.
“I can’t believe you just said that!” She exclaims in horror.
“Then you don’t know me at all.” I laugh.
We’ve become great friends over the past month, and she typically stops by every few days when the men in my family aren’t here.
Clara’s story is heartbreaking. It’s not mine to share, however, she is nervous around men who don’t have the last name Byrne.
Moving aside, I make room for her to come in.
Her shirt strains just slightly around the small bump that’s starting to show.
She’s almost four months pregnant, and she carries it so well.
Envy and a little jealousy claw at my heart, but like every other time, I push it down.
I don’t want kids right now anyways. How could I?
Their mom is in desperate need of a kidney before she dies, and their dad is a newly recovering alcoholic.
Shaking those thoughts from my head, I follow Clara to the living room.
“So how are you feeling about today?” She probes.
“I’m nervous. I’ve been actively avoiding his questions about how I’ve been. I don’t want to worry him.” My teeth begin to chew on my inner cheek.
“They’ve upped your dialysis to five days a week, Lee. He’s going to find out when he gets here tonight.”
“Right, but then we can talk about it in person. Imagine you were sick and Roe was unable to see you but three days a month. Would you want to tell him about how shitty you feel?”
“Rowan would drop everything and sacrifice his own well being to be with me.” She speaks in a low voice like it’s all clicking when she puts herself in my shoes.
“Exactly. People don’t compare Mac and Rowan just because they look alike. They think and act pretty damn similar too.”
“You’re right, he’d throw it all away if he knew you were getting worse. So what’s your plan for after you tell him tonight? He’s not going to want to leave you.”
“I’m going to call Davis or Declan if I have to. We’ll set up a plan he’s comfortable with and go from there.” At least, that’s what I hope is going to happen.
“Lee, you’ve lost over twenty pounds since last month. I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, but if you need reinforcements, please call me and Rowan. We’ll come right over.”
“I will, I promise. I think Declan and Annie will be here tonight. He’ll be okay, and if he refuses to leave, he has five brothers and I have two and a Papa. He’s not throwing his recovery away because of me.”
She laughs as she shakes her head, “If you think that eight men are going to keep him from you, you are majorly underestimating him.”
We move off of Mac and instead turn on our favorite show about contestants who have to compete, and at the end of the season only one winner remains.
Before we know it, Rowan’s knocking on the door to pick up Clara.
She lets him in, and he walks straight over to me, who’s still lounging on the couch hooked up to the machine that filters my blood out of my body, cleans it, then puts it back.
I have maybe ten more minutes before Tory can unhook me and I can continue on with my life.
He drops a kiss onto the top of my head before straightening up, “Lelonie.”
“Rowan.” I mimic his no nonsense voice, which makes him crack a rare smirk.
“Mac’s got his hands full with you. My poor brother.”
My jaw drops in mock appall. “Rude! Have you met yourself or your brothers? I’ve never met a needier bunch of grown men.”
“We aren’t needy. We just like having our emotional support wives and girlfriends with us at all times. Judge someone else, Lee.” The humor dances in his mossy green eyes. The exact same color as the ones I’m in love with but belong to a different man.
“Yeah, yeah. Go on, take your emotional support wife home, you caveman.”
Without pause, Rowan scoops Clara into his arms. “What are you doing, Rowan?” She asks in shock.
“Me, Rowan. You, Clara. Go home, make more babies.” I can’t help but laugh as they walk out.
Snuggling into my spot, I let my eyes rest but not before shooting my sister and Declan a text letting them know to let themselves in when they all get here. I just need a quick nap.