“Are you threatening me?”

“I sure as hell am.”

Well, what do you know? Old man Lewis has a heart after all. “Call an ambulance,” he orders Jaxon.

“No.” Adrenaline pushes me to my feet. Jaxon reaches for me. I hold out an arm in warning, staggering as I back away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Passing by Lewis on unsteady legs, I give him that casual salute that I always do.

Jaxon drives us back to his apartment because I refuse a hospital, but I don’t remember much beyond that point. I know he must have left me alone at some stage because I called Damien. I know I called Damien because I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the shower, an empty bottle of Percocet gripped in my hand. The water gushing from above is ice cold. It’s catching me in the back of my bowed head. I blink away the water in my eyes, not noticing how they sting. My clothes are soaked, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Taking a handful of Percocet gives a high like heroin so I’d chewed a large handful down to make them work faster. Today I need to feel good. Just once. But I don’t. Why isn’t it working? My heart is racing so hard I’m sure it’s going to punch its way out of my chest, yet I’m just as empty as I was before. Maybe I need to lie down. My fingernails dig into the grout of the tiles, the only leverage I have to pull myself upright. I stagger my way to the guest room, skidding against the walls, using them to prop me up when I feel myself falling.

Slumping down on the bed, I reach for my bag and some pills. I down a couple to help me sleep. Maybe they’ll stop my heart from galloping because it’s beginning to hurt. Falling back on the pillow, I close my eyes but oblivion doesn’t come. My arm trembles as I stretch it out toward my phone. I fumble and it drops to the floor.

“Fuck.” Rolling on my side, I grab for it. It takes several attempts before I get it in my hand. Slumping back on my pillow, I dial Jordan. It starts to ring and I exhale deeply. Her soothing voice will fix everything.

“Hi. You’ve reached Jordan Madden.” I’m frustrated at getting her voicemail, but there’s a small measure of warmth hearing her message has changed to include her married name. It’s something small, really, but it feels huge. Jordan is all I have now, but for how long? She keeps slipping through my fingers. I’m doing everything I can to hold on, but the fight is too much. It’s too much. A sob rises up from deep in my chest. For the first time I can’t hold it in. It rips out of me, the sound loud and broken. I fist a hand in my hair as another follows. God, there’s so much pain inside it’s killing me. “I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now. Leave your name and number and I’ll call you back.”

A long beep follows. “Baby?” Christ I’m so fucked-up. I use my forearm to wipe the tears but it feels too heavy to move, so I just leave it there, resting across my eyes. “Sorry, I just …” The words don’t come out sounding right, like my tongue is too big for my mouth. I end the call and throw the phone away, remembering she has soccer finals. She doesn’t need my shit right now. Maybe not ever.

As I lie there my body begins to tremble violently and sleep still proves elusive. Did I take the Ambien? Why can’t I remember? Dragging myself from the bed, I dig for the bottle in my bag. Finding it, I rise, using the wall to prop me up as I empty a pile of pills in my hand. I swallow them down. My mouth is dry and they stick in my throat. I work them down and peace comes soon after. It’s a loving blanket that wraps itself around me, cocooning me in its warmth. My head tips back and my eyes close. A voice from deep inside screams at me as I slide down the bedroom wall. It has fists that bang against my chest, fingers that claw desperately, and sobs that are so deep and wounded they would break my heart if it wasn’t already broken.

I ignore it as the empty bottle falls from my hand, dropping harmlessly to the carpet beside my slumped body. In a brief moment of piercing clarity, I feel my last breath coming. The pain of leaving Jordan is like a sharp knife slicing through my skin, but I can’t stay. It’s so beautiful where I am. So calm and peaceful. I don’t have to fight here. I don’t have to prove myself. Here I’m not the son my father never wanted, the brother that’s never there, or the rising football star I don’t deserve to be. Here, I’m not anything, and nothing has ever felt more right.

Jordan

14 hours earlier…

Our soccer semifinal is just half an hour away and the locker room is crowded. My stomach rolls and my hands shake. Nerves get me every game. As soon as kick off comes I’ll be fine, but those final minutes beforehand wreck me completely.

Sitting down on the bench, I lean over and adjust the laces on my cleats. They’re new, and a little longer than what I’m used to. After tying a double knot, I grab some black tape and wind it around each boot, strapping the cords in place. As I straighten, a pang of loneliness robs me of breath. I wish I hadn’t sent Brody to see Annabelle. It was the right thing to do, but I miss him. I miss my husband.

My phone rings from inside my locker cupboard as I stand. My heart leaps. Brody always rings me right before a game. Flipping open the door, I take it out. It’s Nicky. My heart rate slows to normal pace. “Hey,” I answer.

“Jordan,” he replies. There’s an edge in his voice now. It’s been there since the news of mine and Brody’s marriage broke.

Brody said he would talk to my brother for me, and as much as I wanted him to take one for the team, it wouldn’t have been right. So I returned Nicky’s call later that night, my apology sounding lame and trite. My brother was deeply hurt, unable to comprehend my need to break free and do something fun and reckless.

How could I explain it to him? How could I explain the way Brody looked at me when he said ‘I do’ in the tiny little registry office? His eyes were dark and loving, almost fierce as he promised to cherish me forever. It was intense and romantic. For a single moment in time we were wild and free, the only two people in existence. After the clerk announced Brody could kiss the bride, his lips on mine were deliciously warm.

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth when he drew back and whispered the words, “No regrets, okay?”

There would be no regrets. My love for him surpassed all reason and common sense. “None.”

Brody nodded, satisfied. “From now on, it’s just you and me.”

After speaking our vows, we went to a nearby bar. It was packed, the crowd rowdy. We pushed into the thick of it and tossed back beer after beer until we couldn’t see straight. We drank and laughed until the early hours of the morning. When the band began to play a cover of U2’s “All I Want is You,” Brody whooped, declared it our wedding song, and hauled me out onto the dance floor. I remember the click of my heels on the thick wooden floors and tipping my head back, looking at the beautiful fairy lights that covered the ceiling as Brody spun me around, laughing and drunk. It was crazy beautiful. He made my wedding night perfect.

Tears well up from the overload of emotion. I blink them back and sit down on the bench behind me. Holding my head in my hand, I close my eyes, returning to the present and Nicky’s phone call.

“I just wanted to wish you luck,” he says. “So … good luck.”

My voice drops to a whisper, not knowing what to say. “Nicky …”

“Don’t.” He lets out a sharp breath. “Focus on your game.”

I don’t tell him the game doesn’t mean to me what it used to. It’s not everything anymore. “I’ll see you at home in a few days,” he says.

Australia isn’t home anymore, but I don’t tell him that either. My brother has already been punched in the gut. I don’t need to kick him while he’s down. “See you then.”