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Garrison Kopp had never won Father of the Year. No chance he was in the running this year, either.
He glanced at the clock—ten-thirty. Aiden had another half hour before he'd be late, but Garrison couldn't relax. He stood and muted the baseball game. The Pirates were losing anyway.
Now the house was too quiet. He longed for the days when he and Aiden would watch a ballgame together or, better yet, throw the football in the backyard. Of course this tiny rental house hardly had a yard. Besides, these days, Aiden wanted nothing to do with his old man.
Garrison wandered into the kitchen and put his dishes into the dishwasher. Aiden hadn't eaten at home—again. Always someplace better to be, someone better to hang out with.
"He'll come back," Garrison's mother had said. Maybe Mom was right, but then Garrison and his sisters hadn't made the same stupid choices Aiden was making. And it was a different world now. With cell phones and computers and constant access to all the junk the media had to offer, not to mention the easy access to porn and girls and drugs.
Drugs.
Just the word made Garrison's insides clench. It would be easier if he didn't know so much, hadn't seen so much, seen people with every advantage in the world utterly ruin themselves for just one more hit. Seen his own wife throw away everything they had for a lifetime of quick highs and lingering numbness. The futile search for euphoria in an ever-increasing pile of empty bottles.
For all the temptations out there, drugs scared Garrison the most. Because they enticed Aiden the most.
Tonight, when Aiden got home, Garrison would make him pee in a cup, see if there were any drugs in his system. Maybe that made him a crappy father. Well, who cared if it did? He wasn't going to lose his son to addiction. Not the way he'd lost his marriage to it.
After wiping down the kitchen counters, Garrison headed upstairs to grab a drug test kit from the box he'd ordered off Amazon. The thing better work.
He was pocketing the little package when his cell phone rang downstairs. Probably Aiden saying he'd be late. Again. At least he'd called this time. That was a step in the right direction.
Garrison ran down the stairs, snatched the phone, and looked at the number.
Didn't recognize it.
"Garrison Kopp."
"Mr. Kopp." The man's words were clipped, unfriendly. "This is Officer Finnegan. You have a teenage son, Aiden?"
He stifled a swear word. "What happened?"
"Not sure exactly. We got him in an ambulance."
A thousand images flicked through his mind like a slideshow.
No time for that now.
Garrison reached for his keys, but they weren't there. Aiden has his car.
Fine. He'd Uber. "Where they taking him?"
The police officer told him the name of the hospital.
"On my way."
* * *
GARRISON SAT BY HIS son's bedside. At least Aiden had calmed down. He was sleeping restlessly, his wrists still restrained and connected to the bed rails. They hadn't feared escape—he wasn't under arrest, thank God. But the drugs had kept Aiden hallucinating all night, screaming for relief. The nurse had insisted on the restraints when Aiden grabbed her arm so tightly, he'd left a mark.
She was a kind woman, though. Slight and pale and young but much stronger than she looked. Garrison had managed to pry his son's fingers from her forearm, and then she'd shaken it off. "Drugs make monsters out of the nicest kids."
That's when Garrison's eyes had first tingled.
Aiden had once been a nice kid. He'd never hurt a woman. He'd been raised better than that. But the drugs, they were stealing him, chipping away at his very Aiden-ness, making him a monster Garrison feared he soon wouldn't recognize.
When Aiden finally relaxed, Garrison sat back in the chair in the tiny room and waited for his son to wake up, to realize what he'd done.
Garrison was dozing when someone knocked on the door.
He looked up to see the doctor he'd met earlier step inside. "Still sleeping, I see."
Garrison sat up and wiped his tired eyes. "He's been out for a couple hours."
"Not surprised." The man checked the computer, then walked around the bed beside Garrison and leaned against the wall. "Tox screen showed LSD, opiates, alcohol, and marijuana in his system."
The words bounced around Garrison's brain, but he couldn't make sense of them. Surely his son hadn't done all those things, not in one night.
"We're assuming," the doctor continued, "that the LSD caused the issues that brought him here. A bad trip. Happens a lot."
Bad trip, bad drugs. He'd love to believe Aiden had been slipped the acid. But he hadn't been slipped alcohol or pot. And opiates, as in Oxycodone. Charlene's drug of choice, and one of the most addictive things out there. Had Aiden gotten the pills from his own mother?
"Thing is, there's a lot of oxy in his system," the doctor said. "A lot, which leads me to believe he's built up a tolerance to it. Like he takes it often." He paused, let the words sink in. "I know this is a lot to process. I ordered a psych consult to talk with you about rehab."
Rehab.
A good idea, though the thought had him wanting to argue, to fight.
How could his own son need rehab? How had they ended up here?
"We would recommend you take him straight to a facility. There are some decent state-funded—"
"No." Garrison swallowed. Shook his head. "Rehab's a good idea, but if he's going to do it..." He trailed off, knowing how hit-or-miss it could be to get someone into one of the better facilities. And there were fewer beds for juveniles.
"I'll figure something out."
The doctor's smile was sad. "This is not something you want to put off, Mr. Kopp. The sooner you intervene, the better it'll be."
"I know. Unfortunately, I know."
The doctor left. A few minutes later, the psychiatrist came in, talked with Garrison, and gave him a handful of pamphlets on drug addiction and their options. He thanked her but tossed the paperwork in the trash as soon as she walked out.
Rather than rush into a decision, Garrison needed to get Aiden away from here, isolate him. He grabbed his phone and searched for a place to stay.
Within minutes, his eyes were crossing. He couldn't make sense of the vacation rental websites—probably going a night without sleep wasn't helping. He could find a hotel, but anywhere worth visiting was already booked. He and Aiden might kill each other if they had to share a crappy little motel room.
Besides, he didn't want to go just anywhere. He wanted to go to Nutfield, New Hampshire. He wanted to see Samantha.
Maybe he should feel guilty for that. But it wasn't just that he missed her. He could use her level head right now. And he needed an ally. Besides, if anybody could scare up a good rental house for him, Sam could. And if that rental happened to be close to her...all the better. He'd planned all summer to make it back to Nutfield, to explore a more personal relationship with the beautiful brunette who'd so intrigued him earlier in the year.
He checked his watch. Almost seven. She was probably awake, and anyway, he didn't want to wait another minute to make a plan.
Her number rang three times before she answered.
"Garrison?" Samantha's voice sounded tired, and he would've kicked himself if he'd had the energy.
"I'm sorry. I forgot it's Saturday."
She cleared her throat. "No problem. You didn't wake me."
"Right. The phone did."
Her laugh was short. "What's wrong?"
"Aiden..." His throat closed, and he squeezed his eyes shut, thankful she couldn't see him. It took a moment before he could speak without emotion.
Samantha waited silently.
"Aiden apparently dropped some acid last night and had a bad trip. We spent the night in the ER."
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. Is he OK?"
Garrison looked at his son's pale face, the dark circles ringing his eyes. "Yeah. He will be, but this is the wakeup call. I need to get him in rehab. I think maybe I knew, but I was... I'm so stupid."
"You're just like the rest of us, figuring life out as you go along."
A wise answer, and one of the reasons he liked Sam so much.
"I don't know exactly what we're going to do," Garrison said. "But I do know I've got to get him out of here, away from his friends and the drugs and..." And his mother, but Garrison didn't say that. No need to bring the ex into this conversation. "I could take him to my folks' house in Florida, but my dad... He'll just make things worse. I know you're plugged into the rental market. Maybe you know a place I could rent."
"Oh. That's a great idea. Let me think..."
Garrison closed his eyes and let himself hope. If Sam didn't have an idea for him, he'd find something. A cabin in the mountains, far from the lakes and summer fun. He'd seen and discounted a few of those. Not much to do on the slopes in the summertime, and he could use Sam's support right now.
"I have a two-bedroom place that's empty," she said. "I needed to replace the roof, but they finished up this week. I just haven't had time to put it on the website yet. It'll be perfect for the two of you."
"We'll take it. How much—?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Sam, you can't—"
"I'm not going to argue with you."
Bad enough he'd asked for her help, now he was taking something from her. He didn't like that. He'd figure out a way to pay her eventually, but he didn't have the energy to press the point right now. He still had so much to do, like locate his car and bring it to the hospital. Maneuver Aiden into it, which might be difficult, considering the kid's current state. Go home and pack and hit the road.
He'd focus on that—getting on the road. Once they were headed to New Hampshire, everything would look clearer.
Samantha said, "When will you be here?"
"We'll leave sometime this morning."
"Call me when you know, and I'll make sure the place is ready for you."
He took a deep breath, probably the first since he'd gotten the call the night before. It wasn't a complete plan, but it was a start. It helped to know the next step. "Thank you. You can't know how much this helps."