10. Stalker
CHAPTER TEN
STALKER
Payne
Present day
I’m a man.
A real guy’s guy.
Not only do I know who I am, but I know the kind of man I intend to be for the rest of my life.
Or so I thought.
It appears that’s old news—like last week.
I had no fucking idea I could be this much of an asshole.
Ruby’s tears almost brought me to my knees.
They were a sucker punch to my gut. But instead of pulling her into my arms and telling her everything would be okay like my soul was begging me to do, I said hold it right there, let me take this asshole to a new level.
Was I a jerk in a courtroom when I was defending my clients? Hell, yes. I’m your resident asshole, all day, every day. It’s required.
But in real life?
No fucking way. I was raised by an asshole. The world doesn’t need any more shit like my father’s spread far and wide. Plus, being an ass takes a lot of energy. I do not care about anyone that much.
But since Ruby came back into my life, I can’t control it. I hate her for leaving with no word, yet the desire to be near her burns within me. The two have created somewhat of a stalker that I’m not proud of.
And since she’s not working at The Combover or singing at the manor today, the new stalker in me is shit out of luck.
I could bury myself in work, but it’s Sunday. By the time the sun rose this morning, I forced myself to leave the house.
My mountain bike and I were on the trails for hours.
I didn’t keep track of the miles. It was just me, the spring morning air, and my depressing-as-hell thoughts that were all pointed right back at me.
The farther I went, the longer it took me to get home.
Bonus, if I’m exhausted at the end of the day, I might not have the energy to obsess over Ruby and every memory of my life that she’s intertwined with.
I got home, sat in the sauna until I sweated a bucket, took a shower, and turned on a preseason baseball game since it’s the most depressing time of the year for sports. I’m reclined on the sofa trying to think about anything other than the woman who is turning me into someone I hate.
In the process, all I do is try to think of a reason to see her.
I’m reminded of my younger self. There were years of my life that if I went a day without Ruby, it was because my parents forced me to attend a farcical family vacation, I was out of town for a basketball tournament, or there was a blizzard, and it was impossible to make my way across Winslet.
That only happened once, but it’s worth mentioning because it kept me away from her for two whole days.
“Payne?”
I close my eyes and let my head fall to the back of the sofa.
She calls for me again. “Payne?”
Fuck.
Another reason why the weekends are miserable. I’m here by myself with Mom.
“Payne!”
I scrape a hand down my face. “Yeah?”
If I weren’t upstairs, I never would’ve heard her—the house is too big. I can’t remember the last time she called or texted.
Her voice is weak and slurred. Just a normal Sunday in the Deacon house. “I don’t feel good.”
Imagine that.
I drop my feet to the floor and make myself stand. “Coming.”
I cross the entire second floor of the estate. When I get to her bedroom door, she’s on the floor halfway between her bed and the bathroom. She’s in the same clothes I’ve seen her in for days.
I ask the most rhetorical question possible, because answers are endless at this point. “What’s wrong?”
She tries to sit up to her ass. “I feel like shit.”
I glance at the empty bottles next to the bed that weren’t there yesterday. “That’ll happen when you consume nothing but alcohol.”
She can’t open her eyes, but she waves me off and murmurs, “I just need to clear my head.”
I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb and go through the motions I go through at least once a week. Sometimes more. “Does that mean you’ve hit rock bottom and want help?”
She pries her eyes open, and snaps at me, even if it is weak and pathetic. “I am asking you for help. You know what I need.”
“The only thing you need is an in-patient treatment center and a prayer. I can give you both.”
She manages to push up on one arm. “Please, Payne. Don’t do this to me. You know I can’t ... can’t deal with reality. Just, please. Help me.”
I give in.
I always give in, because what else am I supposed to do?
“At least get yourself off the floor,” I mutter. “And if I do this, promise me you’ll take a shower and eat.”
When I return with my medic bag, she’s on the sofa and looks unconscious. I’m not quiet nor do I tiptoe around her. I drop my bag on the floor and scrape the chair across the hardwood when I pull it over. “Wake up. If you want me to do this, I need your cooperation.”
She stirs and shifts to her back. Even though she is my mother, I snap on a pair of gloves and start to find a vein. It takes longer than it should after I apply the tourniquet. I rip open an alcohol wipe, and she jerks when the cold hits her skin. Once I get the IV started, I attach the fluids.
Then I have nothing to do but sit here and let the saline do its thing as I hold the bag.
She lets out a little moan. “This is good. This always makes me feel better.”
“Do you know what would make you feel better? Rehab.”
“Stop it. You know I can’t.”
“Mom, you never leave the fucking house—"
Her eyes part enough to give me a glare. “Watch your mouth.”
“You must be sobering up if you give a shit what I say.”
She ignores me and tries to brush her hair away from her face nonchalantly, but the tremble of her fingers give her away. She’s coming off the alcohol just enough to get the shakes.
“What I was saying is you don’t leave the house.
You don’t see anyone. No one would know if you’re here or in some posh rehab in the next state.
You’re killing yourself and not slowly anymore.
Having a front row seat to your demise isn’t my kind of party.
I’m here because my conscience won’t be able to take it if you left this house and killed someone or died here alone. You need help.”
She licks her lips and swallows hard. Her dark-circled eyes shift to me as she uses all her energy to open them again. “I’ve ruined your life, haven’t I?”
I shake my head. “It was ruined when I came home for damage control. You could make my life a lot easier if you agreed to rehab. At least give yourself a fighting chance.”
Her eyes close, and her breaths become longer and more rhythmic. “I had a good life, Payne. He ruined everything.”
I think about the kind of life she had, and it was not a good one—not by anyone’s standards. But putting up with my father meant she had the means to hire out the responsibilities she had no interest in.
Responsibilities like me.
And now the tables are turned. She’s my responsibility.
Every single day when I wake up, the first thing I do is make sure she’s not dead so I can go about my day. She’s not the only one whose life didn’t turn out like they thought it would.
I keep that part to myself.
She looks like she’s falling asleep, so I sit here with the arduous task of holding her saline bag to make sure she’s not dehydrated on top of being malnourished.
Again, God proves He has a sense of humor. When I prayed for a distraction from Ruby, I should have been more specific. This is the last distraction I had in mind.
I feel like I’ve lost another painful year of my life waiting for this damn bag to perform the miracle I know it won’t. The whole time, I’m left alone in my mind to contemplate all the ways life is shit, and how I’ve turned into someone I hate.
I’ve seen Ruby cry more times than I can count. Watching the tears roll down her face yesterday was more painful than any time before because I caused them.
I think about my life just a few years ago.
I was on my way to making partner in my firm in Seattle.
I built a solid barrier between my toxic parents and me.
Sure, I was coming off a dramatic breakup because I woke up days before my wedding and realized I was lying to myself about love and commitment and was about to fuck up Carly’s life.
I don’t remember a time in the last decade that I was happier even though I played my part as the guilt-ridden, remorseful breakup-er like an Oscar-winning performance.
As happy as I was, the remorse was real. I never should’ve let it get that far to begin with. I’ve never felt so relieved and free, though I kept that shit to myself and Dean.
But the last of my father’s fuckups changed the course of my life on a dime.
It blew up that barrier I had built like World War III.
I had no choice but to quit practicing law.
There’s no market for a defense attorney in Winslet.
I found myself back home, running a business I wanted nothing to do with, and checking to see if my mother was still breathing every morning.
I can do a lot of things, but I can’t make her want to choose life over death at the bottom of a bottle.
My new normal is nothing close to living a happy and content life, but at least I was muddling through.
Ruby showing up changed that. And this little trip down memory lane hasn’t helped.
I jiggle the bag to get the last drops of saline through the IV. Lord knows, she needs every drop.
When it’s finally empty, she’s either asleep or passed out. There is a difference. I’ve figured it out since I’ve been back.
Her arm is limp when I remove the IV and tape a piece of cotton to the spot. I give her shoulder a nudge and raise my voice enough to get through to her. “Mom, wake up. You’re done.”
She finally stirs. “Good. Good, good. I’ll be as good as new.”
I roll my eyes as I clean up. The overwhelming desire to get out of this house claws at me from the inside out. “Take a shower. I’ll bring you some food. You need to eat.”
She nods and tries to push up to her ass. “Mm-kay.”