“He came over this morning and picked them up.”

“He came over this morning and picked them up,” I mirror, emotionless. “Can I ask why you’re doing this?”

“I just wanted to help,” she says in a quiet voice.

It’s my undoing. “Who the fuck asked you for help, Shannon?” I explode. “Huh? It sure as shit wasn’t me.”

“Stone, I—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupt her. “What gives you the right to come into my house and fuck everything up?”

“Fuck everything up?” she says in disbelief. “Fuck what up, Stone? You’re a middle-aged pig who lives in his own filth and cares more about his next beer than he does about his own son.” She’s yelling now. “Have you even thought about Zeke? Just once?”

“Of course I have!” I shout back. “I’ve done nothing but think of him since he came into my life.”

“I can tell,” Shannon says sarcastically.

“What would you know?” I ask. “You’re young, you’re fucking gorgeous and you’ve got the devotion of everyone you meet. You don’t have to deal with any kind of shit like this.”

“Seriously?” She gives a short bark of laughter. “Ethan Stone, you need a serious reality check. I lost my dad last year, my ex-boyfriend beat on me, and I’ve got creditors hanging around Saddles trying to buy it out from under me. You think I have a great life? Think again, buster.”

I stare at her. “Someone’s trying to buy Saddles?”

She sighs and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah,” she admits quietly. “Daddy borrowed a lot of money from the wrong people. I have just over two weeks to sell the bar, or who knows what they’ll do to me?”

I curse and drop to my knees in front of the wheelchair. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

She shakes her head, a small smile crossing her pinched face. “It’s my problem,” she says.

“No one can do this alone,” I tell her, touching her hand gently.

“You should take your own advice.”

I can’t help the grin that splits my face. “You’re right,” I agree, standing back up. “I have a problem; I know it, and you know it. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“Have you considered getting help?”

“You mean a shrink?” I ask.

She nods.

“I don’t know,” I say, collapsing onto one of the single armchairs. “I mean, I guess I always thought I was too messed-up to change.”

“It’s never too late to change,” she states with a smile. “Your son needs you, Stone. You need to do this for him.”

I stare at her for a few minutes, contemplating everything she’s said. Her sanity seems to make it through my madness. Is she right? Is there still hope for me? I would do anything to rid myself of the voices that plague my thoughts, the nightmares that keep me awake. What could it hurt?

“Okay.” I nod slowly, watching the relief flood her face. “I’ll give it a go.”

 

One year ago…

 

I glance around the small apartment I’ve shared with Troy for the past few years. It’s funny, there are things of mine everywhere … but it’s never really felt like home.

I wander into the bedroom and close the door behind me. I can’t help the slight shiver that runs through my body as I stare at the large bed that was once home to beautiful memories. Now, all I see is pain¸ heartbreak … and fear. I sit on the edge of the bed and play with the edge of the blanket. Can I really do this? Can I just pack up and leave?

I jump when the front door slams, and I take slow, deep breaths as I stand up and look at the suitcase beside the bedroom door. It’s time.

“Shannon!” Troy’s voice roars through the small apartment. I flinch inwardly, but keep my face carefully stoic. He’s clearly just realized there’s no dinner on the table.

The bedroom door flies open and he’s standing there, his hair messed and his hands clenched into fists as he breathes heavily. “What the fuck are you doing?” he snarls, taking a step into the room. His foot hits my suitcase and he looks down at it . . . then back at my pale face. “Going somewhere?”

“I-I can’t do this, Troy,” I stammer, tears already filling my eyes. “I have to go home.”

“Home?” he sneers, kicking my suitcase. “Home?” he’s shouting now. “This is your fucking home. Did I say you could go anywhere?”

I’m so scared, but suddenly I’ve had enough. I’m so tired of the abuse, the humiliation . . . the pain. I straighten up and stare at him through my tears. “No, you didn’t. But I’m going anyway.”

I’m not prepared for how quickly he flies across the room, tackling me onto the bed as he punches my face. Blood spurts from my nose and my head twists to the left as stars burst in front of my eyes. His large hands wrap around my throat and squeeze tightly, cutting off my air. I fumble around for his fingers, trying to pull them away. But it’s a weak effort on my part.

 

For the first time in my miserable life, I wish for death. I welcome it. Embrace it. My hands drop away as my eyes close and my chest burns from lack of oxygen. But I’m not afraid, I see my momma and daddy waiting for me beyond the pain.

I’m snapped back to reality as Troy makes a noise of disgust and shoves his hands away from my throat. The pain rushes forward and I cough violently as my deprived lungs suck in great mouthfuls of air. My vision slowly comes back into focus, and tears prick the corners of my eyes as the image of my parents fades away. Troy climbs off me and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. I hear his bike start up and tear down the road, but I still can’t bring myself to move from the bed. Why didn’t he just let me die? Does he really hate me that much that he’d force me to live? A brief image flashes in my mind of the bottle of sleeping pills in the bathroom . . . but deep down I know I could never take my own life.

I slowly sit up, the burning in my chest is almost gone, but a heaviness remains as I look at my suitcase still by the bedroom door.

 

Two hours later I’m on a bus, using money from the secret savings account I’ve been squirreling away for the past two years to get home.

As the bus leaves the city behind, and I get my first glimpse of the beautiful Texan countryside I haven’t seen in so many years, a small bubble of laughter works its way up from my belly. A moment later tears are coursing down my cheeks as I shriek with laughter. The other people on the bus look at me as if I’ve fucking lost my mind, and maybe I have. But right now I don’t care.

I’m free. I’m fucking free.

“Shannon,” Keets panicked voice calls out, rousing me from my daydream. I glance up at him, embarrassed at having been caught not focusing on my job. “What’s up?” I ask, smoothing my hair down with my hand.

“It’s Stone,” he says grimly, his mouth set in a tight line as he pushes his glasses up on his nose with a lone index finger. My blood runs cold as a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

“You need to see this.”

 

My hand shakes as I lift the glass to my lips, draining the last few drops of beer left behind by a customer. I’m hiding out the back of Saddles, numerous bottles and glasses around me. I’m disgusted with myself, but I can’t fucking stop. If only Shannon hadn’t thrown away my beer, I wouldn’t be reduced to draining the dregs from paying customers. I got lucky earlier, one group of customers left pretty quickly, not bothering to finish their drinks. I had about eight full glasses of whiskey that has left me with a nice buzz. So why aren’t I happy?