Getting a call about an emergency band meeting to hold a last-minute intervention with Kasen was not on my agenda for today. We’ve all known for a while that his substance abuse had started back up, but lately he’s become erratic and unreliable, and we can’t afford that when we’re about to head into the studio to record our new album.
Kasen paces back and forth in front of us, his hands gripping his hair in frustration and his usually carefree grin nowhere to be found. “I’m fine, guys. I have everything under control.”
“Bullshit,” Miles spits out, and I’m surprised by the anger in his voice. Miles is our chill one. Not the guy who gets pissed off. But he’s been a lot more sensitive about drugs and Kasen’s repeated fall-down-the-hole behavior since his brother sold us out for drug money.
Kasen stops his pacing, and I notice his hands shaking at his sides. His eyes are a little wild, and I wonder how long it’s been since he last used.
“I saw you with Charli,” Miles says, and my gaze darts to him. This is news to me, but a glance at Tristan tells me he knew about it. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while since she started showing up at the same parties we were always at, but then I finally saw you two together.”
Kasen immediately shakes his head. “That was nothing. Just two old friends.”
“Some friend to leave you for dead,” Tristan mumbles, his face a moody glower.
Kasen throws him a glare and then turns back to Miles. “I’m serious, dude. It’s all good. I’m fine.”
Even as he says the words, sweat glistens along his hairline, and he can’t stop moving.
“What was it this time?” I ask, cutting to the chase. I’m sick of this denial bullshit. I’m supposed to be with Becka telling Will about us right now and instead Kasen is wasting our time with lies when we can all tell he’s using again, and not just weed. His body shows all the signs that we’ve become too familiar with over our years in this life.
Kasen looks at me, but he can’t hold my gaze. Whether because it’s been too long since he had a hit or because he’s feeling guilty as fuck, I’m not sure.
“Kase. We love you, but you need to tell us what drugs you’re doing. Is it just coke again? Or is it something else?” Robbie asks, his voice calm and soothing instead of its usual happy and joking tone.
Kase rubs his hands through his hair again, and for a minute I think he’s going to throw out another denial, but then he surprises me. He scrubs his face and then sits heavily on the couch as if his body suddenly weighs too much for him to hold it up. He doesn’t look at us when he confesses. “Mostly coke.”
Mostly. That’s the word I hear the loudest, meaning there’s more. “What else?” I ask, my gaze immediately going to his arms looking for track marks.
He shakes his head, and when he looks up at us, he looks so lost and broken that my gut clenches. “I’ll go back to rehab.”
Tristan frowns at him. “Why won’t you tell us?”
Kasen just shakes his head. Tristan and I glance at each other, our expressions matching with worry. Robbie goes over to the couch and sits next to him.
“Kase. You can tell us. You know we always have your back. We’re worried about you.”
Kasen’s eyes water like he’s on the verge of tears, and his gaze fills with shame. “Heroin.”
He says it so softly I’m convinced I heard him wrong. Robbie’s face goes white, and I look around at each of the guys, all of us coming to the same realization at the same time.
This is way worse than last time.
Kasen is going to need a lot more help than any of us can give him. This goes way beyond the buddy system and trying to watch him whenever we go to parties. He needs rehab and a professional who can help him kick this for good.
“And Charli?” Miles asks, his gaze focused intently on Kasen, his voice low and deeper than I think I’ve ever heard it.
Kasen’s shoulders sag. “We’re not dating. She’s my dealer.”
Miles stands so fast, his chair tips over. Without a word, he grabs his coat and storms out of my house. Tristan, Robbie, and I all exchange a glance, clearly worried about him, but Kasen needs us more right now. He’s falling apart, tears now streaming down his face and his hands shaking in his lap.
“I can kick it on my own. It’s not that bad yet. I only used it a couple of times.”
“You just said you’d go to rehab,” Robbie gently reminds him, and I’ve never been so grateful for him because I’m struggling to be the leader right now. Looking at Kasen is reminding me too much of my mom’s breakdowns when she swore she was done and would get clean. She did, but only for short bouts of time. It never lasted, and I don’t think it’ll last with Kasen either. There are too many temptations in our world for him to do this on his own.
Kasen shakes his head, like I suspected he would. He didn’t really mean it when he said he’d go to rehab. He said it because he knew that’s what we wanted to hear.
He’s a drug addict in the throes of it. And if there’s anything my mom taught me it’s that addicts lie, even to the ones they love.
The hours pass, and Miles doesn’t return. Kasen continues to go back and forth between agreeing to rehab and saying he can do it on his own. Robbie, whose heart is bigger than his brain, offers to help him through his withdrawals and make sure he gets back on his feet. He doesn’t realize that’s a futile attempt. Kasen is beyond our simple help. He needs more. He needs a professional. But arguing won’t change things. Kasen needs to want help or else it’ll be a waste of time, just like his last round of rehab.
Tristan is quiet through most of this, which isn’t exactly surprising—my brother isn’t a big talker—but I still worry about him. He was old enough to remember Mom when she was like this, and if it’s affecting me, I’m sure it’s affecting him. He helps Kasen into Robbie’s car and then leaves with just a simple hug. I don’t know where he’s going, and I don’t ask. I probably should, but Tris deals with things in his own way, usually between the legs of a willing woman or writing a song that will end up breaking all our hearts and being a chart-topping hit.
I collapse on my couch, feeling like the weight of the whole damn world is on my chest. I check the time on my phone and make a snap decision to go to Becka’s. It’s late, but not too late. She should still be up. I send her a text to make sure. I’m not going to be great company, but I need her. I need her soothing voice and hands. I need her warmth so I don’t feel so lost and helpless like I do sitting in my big house all by myself.
Becka responds almost immediately telling me to come over. She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m in my car and heading to her place without a second thought.
She opens the door and immediately opens her arms inviting me in for a hug. I wrap her in my arms and hold her tight against me feeling all my worries ease while I hold her close. I’m not sure how long we stand there in our embrace, but she doesn’t rush me. Her small hands slide up and down my back in soothing motions, and my shoulders eventually drop from their tense position by my ears.
When we finally break from our hug, she pulls me inside her condo. “Want anything to drink?”
I shake my head. “I just want to hold you.”
Her smile is soft as she climbs onto the couch and cuddles up next to me. We lie there together, not talking, just touching. I slide my fingers through her silky brown hair, feeling immensely grateful that I was able to fix things between us because this is exactly what I needed.
Eventually I break the silence. “How’d it go with Will?” She tenses slightly in my arms, and my body tightens up bracing for more bad news.
“I couldn’t tell him,” she whispers. She tilts her head where it’s resting on my chest so that she can look me in the eyes. “He broke up with Gina.” That takes me by surprise. They seemed so happy at our concert.
“He was a mess when I got there. I’ve never seen him like that, and I couldn’t tell him our happy news when he’s so miserable.”
I want to believe her, but a part of me is worried she’s not telling him because she doesn’t think this will last. Maybe I’m just feeling exceptionally raw after the day I’ve had, but urgency spreads through me. Am I the only one who’s one hundred percent invested in us?
“Where do you see our relationship going?” I ask.
She sits up slightly and stares at me, her eyes darting between mine. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, and I’m too emotionally drained to hide what I’m feeling, so I don’t.
She brushes her thumb over my cheek like I’ve done so many times to her and then cups my jaw. “I’m in this, Trent. For the long haul. I’m going to tell Will. I know it’s important to both of us that he knows. I just didn’t want to add to his plate. I’ve really never seen him that bad before. His house was a disaster, and there were beer cans everywhere.” She wrinkles her nose. “And he stunk like he hadn’t showered in days. Will’s not a vain guy, but he’s always been clean. Who I saw tonight was not my brother.” She stares intently in my eyes. “I promise I’ll tell him once he’s not such a mess.”
“Okay.”
There’s nothing else to say. I have to trust her, and her eyes are shining with sincerity, not the insecurities I’ve seen in the past. I let it go, and we spend the rest of the night cuddled up on her couch until we both fall asleep. I’m so emotionally drained I expect to sleep deeply, but instead I wake up often throughout the night, pulling Becka a little tighter against me each time until she’s practically draped on top of me. She hums softly and nuzzles her face against my chest, which eases some of the tightness in my body. By the time the sun starts to rise, my lids close heavily, and sleep consumes me, my last thought about Becka and how thankful I am that at least everything with us is fine.