Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
I an
Savannah exits the car and I follow in her footsteps, keeping with her pace. As we approach the home of Gigi’s caregiver, the door swings open wide, revealing the little girl eagerly waiting inside.
“MOMMA!” The high-pitched squeal cuts through the air like a knife.
“Baby love!” Savannah responds with equal enthusiasm, her arms outstretched for her daughter. Gigi runs into them and melts into her chest.
“I missed you, Momma. You’s late again.”Gigi pouts.
“ You’re late, Gigi,” Savannah gently corrects.
“No, I not.”
“ I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, Momma. You. Is. Late.”
“You are late.”
“No, I not, Momma!” Gigi stomps her foot in frustration and steels her gaze as she locks eyes with her mother. “You is! You is!”
She buries her face against Savannah’s body, her tiny shoulders shaking with angry tears.
“Gigi …” Savannah’s gentle, coaxing tone is filled with love and understanding. She lifts the girl onto her hip. I spy her quivering bottom lip and it tugs my heart. “Gigi, it’s okay. It’s not important.”
She pushes herself back to see Savannah’s face. “But it is impo-tant. Momma. I wanna be a big gal. I not—don’t—wanna talk like a baby.”
I chime in, the empathetic squeeze inside my ribs compelling me to interject. “Kiddo, I don’t think you talk like a baby at all. You just corrected yourself. Just like a big girl.”
Savannah turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Sorry. Maybe you should’ve waited in the car.”
Gigi wriggles out of her mother’s arms and skips to me. Her bright smile replaces her distress from a moment ago. I can’t help feeling shocked at how quickly she bounces from one emotion to the other and the emotional whiplash leaves me dumbfounded.
She looks up at me with wide eyes, her head falling so far back she reminds me of a Pez dispenser. She takes my hand firmly in hers and, suddenly, I’m putty in her grasp.
“Hi E-ban, you’s not a stwanger no more. I can say hi.”
“I guess I’m not,” I reply, a lopsided grin forming on my face. “How are you, kiddo?” I sneak a look at Savannah, certain my smile has turned into a lopsided grin. “Bet she gets away with a lot, huh?”
“She sure tries, and most of the time, she succeeds.” She glances down at Gigi. “Don’t let that cute little face fool you. There’s definitely a mischievous gremlin hiding inside all that adorableness.”
“You’re doing great as a mom, Savannah.”
“I try.” Defeat creeps into her tone. “But she gets her way a lot.”
Gigi raises her arms toward me. “Pick me up, E-ban!”
I shoot a quick glance at Savannah for permission, and she nods with a small smile.
“Yes, ma’am.” I bend down to lift Gigi into my arms. She’s barely the weight of the buckets of ice I lift at the bar. It dawns on me that I’ve never held a child, but she wiggles in my arms until she fits against me. Savannah’s eyes meet mine and her expression softens.
“She may only be three, but she knows what she wants and how to get it,” she says with a mix of exhaustion and pride. “I just hope I can make it through her teenage years.”
“Excuse me.” As I stand by Savannah, a woman with gentle brown eyes approaches us. Her voice is a melodious blend that sounds somewhere between a purr and a coo. Although she appears older than Savannah, she’s fit and stunning. Cascading down her shoulder are soft curls of copper-colored hair that only adds to her allure. With a warm smile, she extends her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I take her outstretched hand. “Ian. It’s a pleasure.”
“Cora. Cora Brooks—and I believe the pleasure is mine.” She gives Savannah a coy look. “I don’t believe you’ve ever mentioned Ian, Savi.”
“Dis is E-ban!” Gigi announces.
“I heard.” Cora chuckles with a sweet smile at Gigi, then turns back to me with an inviting look.
“Can I get you something to drink, Ian?”
“Thank you, ma’am—but no.”
“Ma’am?” she chuckles. “I think I’m insulted,” She turns to Savannah. “I’ll get Gigi’s things.” With a playful glance towards me, she adds, “Ian, it was very nice meeting you.”
“Likewise, ma’am.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Now, Ian,” she says playfully, “if you call me ma’am again, I may have to persuade Savi not to bring you back.” As she walks away, she looks over her shoulder and her suggestive expression lingers. “And that would be a shame.”
A bewildered Savannah looks between Cora and me, and I struggle to suppress a chuckle. It seems like the woman had been flirting with me.
“I’m not sure what all that was about.” Bewildered, her lips purse and pull to the side. “And you … ma’am ?”
“What? You’re surprised I have manners?”
“I don’t know what I think—of you or her.”
I study her closely as I hold onto Gigi. What stories has she heard about me? Hopefully, she sees me as a better man than the one she thought she knew. I can’t deny my past mistakes, whether it’s the full front-page photo on The Buzz when I mooned the audience at a concert, or the incident where I got a citation for public urination. But I’ve worked hard to turn my life around since then, and it’s important to me that Savannah knows that.
“I know you’ve heard a lot about me,” I say, meeting her gaze. “But whether you believe it or not, that guy’s gone.”
She seems hesitant, as if she’s struggling with some inner conflict.I don’t blame her. If our roles were reversed, I’d be cautious about me too but, the truth is, getting sober revealed many sides to me. The introvert who brooded over his past mistakes. The friend grieving the loss of another friend, dealing with buried anger issues. And, yes, the cocky bastard who despised mind games.
“Mmm-Mm!” Suddenly, Gigi wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me. The faint scent of lavender and fresh laundry clings to her clothes. It’s soothing and comforting and her actions take me by surprise. Her grip is strong, a sharp contrast to her delicate stature. I freeze for a moment. Her open display of trust and innocence hits my emotions like a blowtorch, melting away the icy walls around my heart with the beauty and purity of unconditional acceptance, and making my insides melt.
Cora returns to the room with a pink and white striped bag. A brown teddy bear’s head peeks out from the top.
“Here you go. You’re all set,” she says with a smile.
“Thanks, Cora.” Savannah takes the bag and loops the straps over her arm.
Cora turns to me. “It was nice meeting you, Ian.”
“Same here, Ma—Cora.” I quickly correct myself.
“Good catch,” she says with a kittenish smile then looks from me to Savannah. “You’ll have to bring Ian around again, Savi. He’s cute.”
Savannah’s expression goes blank while I stifle a twitch to laugh.
* * *
I hold the car door open as Savannah safely secures her daughter into her car seat. The little one fidgets and kicks her legs, eager to start her journey. I watch as Savannah carefully snaps the buckle, making sure not to pinch her daughter’s delicate skin. When I hear the telltale click assuring she’s secured, I note Savannah covering Gigi’s legs with a partially folded blanket. She plants a light kiss on her head before closing the door. “This is in case you get cold.”
Gigi gazes out the window, suddenly indifferent. As Savannah backs out of the car, she bumps into me and pops back up, falling back against the car’s frame. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to be a gentleman,” I say with a small smile.
She walks around the back door as I open the front. Gracefully dipping low into the driver’s seat, she keeps watch as I close both doors, and stroll around to the passenger side of the car, and get inside. With the press of a button, she starts the car then turns to me.
“I’m sorry about Cora,” she says with sincerity.
“No need to be. She seems nice.” I pause for a moment before adding, “I’ll show you the way.”
“What?” Savannah gives me a confused look.
“To my house. You don’t know where I live. I can guide you there—unless you want to use your GPS.” As we approach a stop sign at the intersection, I recite directions. “Make a left here and go straight. It’s about ten miles, then you’ll take a right.” Despite following my directions, Savannah remains suspiciously quiet throughout the drive. It’s uncomfortable, so I break the silence. “Why don’t you say what’s on your mind, Savannah.”
She glances at me, then finally speaks up. “How do you know Sam?”
The question takes me by surprise. “What do you mean?” I know they’re close but have no idea what information he might have shared with her about me.
“You two seem to know each other pretty well. I’ve known Sam all my life, and he’s never mentioned you to me. So, how do you know him? How did you meet? And seeing you two that night at the bar, and how friendly you seemed to be, I’m confused. He’s never mentioned you. He only knew of Boundless Hearts because of my winning the contest, so …” Her words trail off.
“If you’ve known him all your life, then you should also know he wouldn’t betray a confidence. Sam’s my sponsor.” The words may be simple, but they hold a deeper meaning. One of trust that we both should understand.
With a sudden, sharp movement, she turns her head to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. Then, just as quickly, she returns her gaze to the road ahead. “So that’s what he meant,” she murmurs, her shoulders relaxing, as if releasing a burden.“He mentioned something, but never directly, so I didn’t pry.” A sense of vulnerability radiates from her words, and I feel a pang of sympathy. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” she gently assures me. “But, since my daughter’s taken a liking to you, if you’re willing to share, I’m all ears.”
“I have nothing to hide. I met Sam when I was in rehab. The media made sure that everyone knew I was there, but my relationship with Sam is private. It isn’t information I feel I need to offer to strangers but, since you aren’t one, ask away.”
She reaches up to the nape of her neck and gathers the thick cascade of hair with one hand. With a graceful gesture, she drapes it over her shoulder, revealing smooth skin and delicate features. The fading sunlight catches in her hair, giving it an ethereal glow as it tumbles over her front like a golden waterfall. I’m mesmerized. Does she know how beautiful she is? A sense of vulnerability radiates from her as she fiddles with the gold chain around her neck.
My cell buzzes in my pocket, breaking the flow of our conversation. Reluctantly, I pull it out and glance at the screen. The name appearing on the screen is none other than the subject of our conversation. I quickly type out a short message to let him know I left the bike in the parking lot before tucking my phone away again.
Turning back to Savannah, the brief interruption has given me a moment to catch my breath. She looks over at me, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “It was Sam. I sent him a message telling him about the motorcycle. I’ll call him back later.”
“Oh.” She nods.
“So, tell me,” I prompt, “what else do you want to know?”
“I guess about the relationship between the two of you.”
“If memory serves me correctly, he was in town taking care of something for a friend. He mentioned reading about me and when he discovered I was undergoing treatment just twenty minutes away, he reached out to the facility staff.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Why would you? Sponsors are entrusted with confidential information. It’s not their place to betray someone’s trust. The pastor of your downtown church could be struggling with addiction and be in recovery themselves. People don’t reach out unless they need help. If sponsors or therapists or even just people in a support group can’t be trusted to keep a confidence, it can ruin someone’s life.”
“You only know about me because I was a public figure, and you were a fan of the band. All sorts of rumors circulated since the day they carried me out of that hotel room. Some rag magazines even reported my death, which they then had to retract. Of course, they put it on the back page. They said all sorts of shit about me.”
Savannah flashes me a disapproving look. “Ian! Little ears.”
“Youse said a naughty word!” Gigi chimes in.
“Sorry.” I grimace at Savannah, then glance over my shoulder at Gigi. “Sorry, munchkin.”
“Is okay, E-ban,” Gigi reassures sleepily.
“Go on with your story,” Savannah says.
I take a deep breath, my finger tapping furiously on my thigh. This is the part I don’t like to revisit.“There really isn’t much more to say. I’d hit rock bottom—lower than ever before. I did whatever they told me to do. When they put me in that sterile room in a white gown with bright white lights, I felt like I was going crazy.” A shiver runs down my spine. “I played the perfect patient, nodding and smiling at all the right moments just so I could get out of there and do it again.”
“Do what again? Overdose?” The shock makes her voice go shrill. She quickly catches herself and steals a look in the rearview mirror. I mimic her actions and turn to look over my shoulder. Taking in the peaceful sight of my little friend fast asleep.
When Savannah’s gaze returns to me, it’s only for a fleeting moment as she turns her attention to the road. a brief look. She turns her attention back to the road and shakes her head.
“Why in god’s name would you want to do something that reckless, Ian? Can’t you see how much pain it would cause to the people who care about you?” Her tone is laced with pain and confusion, mirroring the furrowed lines on her forehead.
I pause, allowing the weight of her question to burrow in. My eyes roam over her silhouette, taking in every delicate curve of her face and flutter of her lashes. Even in the dim light, I can see how they feather out, casting a slight shadow above her nose and chin. How can I explain to someone so effortlessly perfect that I have always been anything but? That I’ve struggled with feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness for as long as I can remember? I’m not sure I can find the right words to convey my despair. That I felt I had nothing to offer the world and that, in that mental state, I believed I was better off dead? That I was only worth something when Dash was alive because he made me feel I had some small contribution and my existence in the world was valid. Is it any wonder that at one point, death seemed a better option than living in a world where I never felt I fit in?
As I stare out the window, words catch in my throat. There is no adequate way to articulate how a person feels when they lose the only person who ever made them feel like they mattered, but, for her, I’ll try.
“Growing up, I was nothing to my father. My worth was dependent on what I could do for him. He was cruel, but now I see it was his pain that made him mean. We both lost my mother and, instead of leaning on each other for strength, he used me as his whipping boy, so to speak. There were times when he would say ‘I wish you were—” I pause. “I knew what he meant, Savannah because he made me feel as if I was breathing oxygen that would be better spent on someone else. But everything changed when I met Dash and the band found fame. Green became his favorite color, and suddenly I had value. My father died of a faulty liver, and I didn’t know how to feel about his passing. Dash was the brother I never had. He made me believe there was hope for me despite the crappy thoughts my father drilled into me. When Dash died …” I take a breath and clear my throat.
“Dash’s death hit me with a wave of sorrow that took me to an unbearable level of pain. That grief affected everything, especially performances. I spent thousands of dollars to numb the pain. My drinking problem and drug use spiraled out of control. Ticket sales declined. The guys in the band tolerated me, but everyone has their limits—especially when it hits them in the wallet. I was nothing but a burden, or so I believed. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”
She looks at me with sadness in her eyes and I manage a weak smile as I struggle in the emotional undertow. “Grief isn’t always visible, you know? It really fucked me up.” I flinch, noting the curse word that slipped out of my mouth, and shoot a glance at the back seat. Gigi’s out cold in the back seat. “Sorry. She didn’t hear me.”
“Ian, I’m so sorry.”
Her voice is thick with genuine emotion. I can’t help the small smile that presses at my lips at the realization that she cares. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me for being human. You’ve been through a lot.”
“Apart from Sam, I’m not used to anyone caring about me. I’m okay now. I’ve rebuilt myself from the inside. I went to counseling; moved to Rock Hills. The ranch has been a place of healing and growth for me. It takes time, for sure, but I’m better. Now, I’m happier Dash lived than sad that he died.”
A sense of peace washes over me when I realize just how far I’ve come. Then I hear a sniffle.
“Are you crying?” We stop for a red light, and I see her swipe at her face.
“It’s just … you had everything.” Her voice strains with emotion.
“I did. Then it was gone. But now, I feel like I have it again, though in a different way. Most people wouldn’t understand unless they’ve been through it …”
“But I have,” she interrupts softly, her eyes filled with empathy. “My parents were murdered.”
My eyes widen with shock and my heart sinks with pity. “Damn.” My stomach twists with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Savi. That’s tough.”
She nods, her expression pained but resolute. “It is but counseling helped.
Though I’m curious to know more, I go with the switched topic. “Yeah. It does. At first, I thought I looked weak and pathetic, but I needed to deal with the pain.” A wistful smile comes to my lips as a memory rises to the surface. “Then someone wrote me a letter, and it changed things.”
“A letter?” She steals another glance before the light changes.
“Yeah. Someone saw me. Really saw me. It helped me navigate my next steps. I carry it in my wallet.”
“You’ve piqued my interest.”
“It was from Dash’s widow. She reminded me I was loved, and it broke me—in a good way.”
“And now?”
I shrug indifferently. “I work on it every day. Sam helps.”
Savannah’s tone softens, and she sweetly smiles. “That sounds like him.”
I shake my head in amazement. “I have no idea how I lucked out getting Sam for a sponsor. He’s the reason I’m here. He’s become a good friend.”
“And now you have even more friends. Me, Gigi, and, maybe, even Cora.” Her expression turns cheeky and her lips purse. “No, definitely Cora,” she laughs. “There’s no doubt she’s taken a liking to you.”