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Fuck me.
Dale claps me on the shoulder from behind. “Sink or swim.”
“So, tomorrow your system should be clear enough to do the first preliminary drug tests,” Avery says. “Unless there’s something besides booze in your system.”
Fuck, I almost wish there was. That would be an easy way to get this shitshow of a circus to come to a grinding halt. “No, just alcohol.”
“You sure?” Chase asks as he peers into my eyes.
“Yeah, just the alcohol,” I say.
“Any pain meds?” Dale asks.
“Nah, I took the pain meds from the surgery, but then self-medicated with alcohol.”
“When was the last pain med you took? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Aleve?” Chase asks.
“Two weeks after the surgery,” I say.
Looking to Dale, Chase says, “Notify the board about that. Give ‘em the down and dirty facts. No sense in hiding anything. This way they don’t have any surprises. They’ll contact the USADA, and we need to as well to make sure there’s not any complications.”
“You’ll have to get the medical records from the surgery. They should have been sent over, but we need to make sure we have copies. If we need to explain why something is in his system, that’ll cover it all, I think,” Dale says.
It’s like I’m a fucking child all over again. They’re talking about me as if I don’t even have a choice in all this shit.
“Do I get a say in any of this?” I ask.
Knowing that they’re doing something for my benefit like this is infuriating and comforting, I guess. But fuck, I’d really like at least some input.
“Not really. Starting tomorrow, your ass is mine,” Dale says before walking away to ruin someone else’s life.
“Go get Casey home, fed, and settled. You guys have a lot on your plates, and tomorrow both of your worlds start anew,” Avery says as she flashes a smile at me before walking away.
Chase smirks at me before he walks away too. “I don’t let runts date my sister.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I mutter.
* * *
Walking into the house with Casey in tow is an odd feeling. Besides the guys today, it’s been a long time since anyone’s actually been here. So long that I immediately feel that awkward shame people get when someone sees their dirty home. It’s not like I’ve had any real reason to take care of the place, but I still feel the embarrassment of having a kid see I can’t keep my shit together.
Casey wrinkles his nose. “Grandma would kill me if I ever left my room like this.”
He’s got a point. Now that I’ve been away from the place for more than a couple of minutes, I can smell the copious amounts of alcohol and grime that have taken over. This place smells like a fucking dump, and my stomach starts churning at the thought of all the alcohol.
“Kinda smells like the arena after a fight,” he continues as he walks around the living room. “Looks like it too.”
/> “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I grumble as I move past him, motioning for him to follow me. “Let’s get your room set up, then we’ll order some food. I need to take out the trash too, I guess.”
Mercifully one of the three spare bedrooms in the house is clean and relatively empty except for a couple of old boxes of workout gear. Leading him into it, I turn on the lights and show him the private bathroom.
“All yours… Beast,” I say while opening up my arms and spinning around the room.
I’m pretty proud that this room is setup nice enough that it’s livable. It’s got a bed, a couple of dressers, a big tv, and even the bathroom is stocked up on the necessities.
Back before my shoulder got wrecked and everything turned to shit, my house was pretty fucking nice. I didn’t subscribe to the whole bachelor pad thought of mind. I kept my shit clean and looking good. I wanted to make it as much of a real home as I could.
Lots of things were different back then. I had a stable home here. Tommy and Casey would come by all the time and stay the night when it got too late. It was like our own little family.
