Chapter 1
There were no words to describe the shame Ranger felt upon seeing Ghost and Becks walk through the lobby doors.
The dayroom of the rehab center was surrounded by reinforced glass walls, doors, and windows.
Even the ceiling was a chessboard of skylights and tile.
Colby, Ranger’s friend and the owner of this center, wanted to remind his patients of the outside world, letting as much light into their mental darkness as possible.
There were days when Ranger hated this fucking room with its bright and cheery atmosphere, and others when he was chomping at the bit to get here, just to be able to feel the heat of the sun on his skin.
Through the locked glass doors that separated the dayroom from the lobby, Ranger could see Ghost and Becks signing in. They had to hand over their personal belongings, and it looked like the gift basket Becks had brought him was currently getting inspected.
She looked…happy. Nervous, biting her lip in that way she did when she was trying to be courageous.
She’d gotten out of the habit of sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth when she was thinking really hard.
Ranger had always thought that habit to be adorable, but her classmates had bullied her through middle school for it.
Fucking idiots. If he’d been younger, he’d have kicked the shit out of them for picking on his little sister, but with the near decade between their ages, it would have looked poorly on him for beating up some twelve and thirteen year olds in his early twenties.
Even if he was coming to his sister’s defense.
He would always come to his sister’s defense.
Ranger rubbed his arms, that constant itch like ants beneath his skin increasing with nerves. Visiting hours started only minutes before Ghost and Becks had walked through the lobby doors. She must have had Ghost in the cage pre-dawn to get here so soon.
It felt like an eternity before the receptionist today, Tina, finished explaining the rules of visitation and then guiding them to the locked doors, where she swiped her access card and punched in the code that allowed them entry.
An eternity that Ranger wished could have lasted a little bit longer.
He wasn’t ready for this. For thirty days, the thought of being able to see his sister again was all that kept him going.
Through the hallucinations, the nausea, the chills and the sweats, the irritation, and the restlessness, this moment right here was all he thought about, all he wanted. And now that it was here…
He wasn’t ready.
How did he express his shame, his humiliation, the physical helplessness and the powerlessness…? How did he admit to his baby sister that he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was, as she thought he was? How did he look her in the eye and tell her he was no longer worthy of being her protector?
And to factor in Ghost on top of all that?
His best friend. They’d been a team from the moment they stepped into that clubhouse together.
Ranger couldn’t look at Ghost and see the pity in his brother’s eyes.
That fucking pity… It was worse than the withdrawal symptoms. And it wasn’t just Ghost. It had been all of them.
His club brothers, the ol’ ladies, the older club kids… They looked at him like he was fragile.
How pathetic that he’d proven them right.
A gentle hand on his shoulder kept Ranger from bolting from his chair.
Fucking Colby. They’d served together, both Army Rangers.
After getting out, Colby had hit the bottle hard.
He didn’t consider himself an alcoholic, but said he’d been on his way to being one if he hadn’t stopped when he had.
Knowing he wasn’t the only veteran suffering from substance abuse issues, he set out to open this place, a rehab center to help veterans get clean and back on their feet.
Ranger used to admire the man and his mission.
The Via Daemonia had even brought a group of women to him who weren’t veterans but needed his help, donating the money they’d stolen from an outlaw biker gang that had sought to destroy the VDMC to help pay for the women’s care.
It was completely humbling, and not in a good way, to now be a patient here, rather than a visitor, a donor, or a volunteer.
How the mighty had fallen.
Colby wasn’t one of Ranger’s counselors, but he did often participate in the group therapy sessions, sharing his own struggles and desires.
As grateful as Ranger was to Colby for giving him a bed and treatment, there was a part of Ranger who resented the man.
It was completely unfounded, and he knew that, but it didn’t stop the nasty voices from entering his mind that Colby had gotten clean so easily, while Ranger was a fucking mess.
He knew their situations were different, and it wasn’t fair to begrudge Colby his sobriety—especially with all the good he’d done with it. Just went to prove how fucking fucked-up Ranger was now, to hate a friend for his success.
And what made it worse was that Colby knew.
Ranger was not an actor, and frankly, he was too raw and tired most days now to even attempt to hide something like that.
So unfortunately, Colby was very aware of Ranger’s current disdain for him.
Yet, he still showed up, every day, and held Ranger’s hand through the worst of it.
Hell, the man had showered with Ranger more times than Ranger cared to admit, and Ranger had puked his guts out numerous times on the man’s boots. But he still showed up. Without fail.
Fucking do-gooder.
“She’s your sister,” Colby whispered in Ranger’s ear.
“There is no shame in what happened. You are not weak. You are not powerless. You are not a failure. You survived thirty days sober.” He pointed to the chip in Ranger’s hand that he’d been gripping like it was a lifejacket on a sinking ship.
“That’s twice as long as last time, and last time you tried to fight alone.
Be grateful you’re alive and can hug her, that she can visit you here, instead of her standing over your grave. ”
Ranger’s hand curled into fists. “Why do you have to be so fucking logical all the time?”
Colby smiled widely at him. “It’s my fucking gift to you, free of charge. Now say ‘hi’ to your sister. She looks like she’s dancing on hot coals.”
Ranger looked over to see Becks was on the other side of the large round table where Ranger was sitting, bouncing back and forth on her feet as if hesitating to approach him.
Ghost stood at her back, his attention entirely on his pregnant wife.
Ranger did not consider that a slight against him.
In fact, he appreciated it. He didn’t think he’d have been able to handle Ghost’s and Becks’ attention at the same time.
Plus, there was a reassuring factor that Becks was Ghost’s first priority.
His chest tight, and feeling like his legs were made of jelly, Ranger stood. The journey around the table felt like a marathon, but finally he was only a foot or so in front of her. Tears were already running down her cheeks as she stared up at him.
Ranger didn’t remember much about the day he’d relapsed, but he did know that Becks was the one who found him in his bathtub.
Dressed, dry, and a needle in his arm. He hated himself for putting her through that.
Colby surmised that a subconscious part of him wanted to get caught, so rather than shooting up in the back alley where he’d purchased the heroin, he’d brought it home.
Ranger wasn’t sure he believed or trusted that assessment, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d brought drugs into his pregnant sister’s home.
He tried to smile down at her, but his lips seemed to have forgotten how.
Instead, he forced himself to reach for her.
A part of him knew it was a possibility that she might step back, might look at him in disgust for trying to touch her.
He would have accepted that. His addiction and withdrawal had taken precedence over his sexual assault, but he was well aware that therapy was coming soon, too.
As shameful as that knowledge was, though, he would not fault Becks for not wanting to touch him.
He was dirty. The poison might be out of his system, but it had altered him, changed who he was. He would never be the same man he was, and after his relapse inside her own home, he would understand her hatred of him.
But of course, she proved him wrong. Rather than pulling away, Becks rushed him.
It was a good thing that Ghost was holding the gift basket, or she likely would have tossed it over her shoulder in her haste.
The second she saw him reach for her, Becks leapt forward.
Even in her heels, she was still several inches shorter than him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her feet dangling above the ground, Becks buried her face into the crook of his shoulder, shaking and sobbing.
Ranger caught her, of course. His thirty day chip falling to the tiled floor at his feet. Wrapping his own arms around her waist, he pulled her just as tightly against him. He struggled to breathe, knowing there was no power on this earth strong enough to tear her from his arms.
He wasn’t whole, not by a long shot. But having Becks here, feeling her love for him and her relief that he was alive, it helped. It was enough to make this day worth it.
* * *
90 Days Sober
“This is our last session before your release tomorrow. I’d like to use our time today to talk about what you’re taking with you when you walk out those doors.”