Ranger leaned over to whisper in Becks’ ear. “Um, how long is she planning on staying for?”
Becks shrugged. “Not sure. Why? You too manly to have your mommy make you sweets to bring to your meetings?”
Ranger snorted. “The opposite. I’m afraid they’ll kick me out if she stops.”
Becks squeezed his hand, and then the siblings turned their attention back to the stunned Cross.
“She is aware that she doesn’t have to cook for us to allow you into the meeting, right?” he asked them.
Ranger shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter. Don’t be surprised if she starts feeding the meetings I don’t attend, too.”
“We’re going to need to start taking up a donation jar if she does. I don’t want her spending that sort of money on us,” Cross said, clearly concerned.
Becks and Ranger exchanged a look. This whole catastrophe had started over money. Ritchie Austin had worked as a junior attorney at the same law firm where Becks and Ranger’s grandmother had filed her last Will and Testimony. Though not biologically related to them, Andrew Fremont had always treated Becks and Ranger like his children. He was the only father Becks had ever known. Their sperm donor had been an abusive asshole Ranger was very grateful Becks had never had to meet, even though he contributed to half her DNA. Like Andrew, a cop who had died in the line of duty a decade ago, had adopted Ranger and Becks, his mother had always treated Becks and Ranger like they were blood related. Unknown to them and Loretta, when she passed, Beatrice had split her small fortune between her two grandchildren.
Realizing Beatrice wasn’t long for this world, Ritchie and his stepsister, Cameron Powell, had hatched a plan. Each of them would seduce a sibling, get them to marry them, and then the fortune would be theirs by marriage. What happened to Ranger and Becks afterwards was still unknown, but the logical assumption would be that both Ranger and Becks would meet untimely ends.
They’d been prepared to play the long game for that money, with Ritchie having already proposed by the time Beatrice passed.
But a huge wrench was thrown into the plan, though, when Ranger brought Ghost to Becks’ wedding, and like a fairytale straight from Hollywood, the moment the two saw each other, there was no going back. Becks might have fought it, wanting to stay loyal to her fiancé and the man she was set to marry in a couple of days, but there was no denying that it was love at first sight for the two. Becks was preparing to leave Ritchie the morning of the wedding when it was discovered that Ritchie was nowhere to be found. In the middle of that debacle, Ghost showed up and proposed, which Becks had accepted without hesitation.
Meanwhile, in Mount Grove, Ranger was playing right into Cameron’s hands, having no idea that he was sleeping with his little sister’s ex-fiancé’s stepsister.
Ranger cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it,” he told Cross. “It makes her happy.”
Plus, maybe some good could come of that money. Ranger hadn’t even known about it until after he was released from the hospital, but he’d been in no mental or physical state to do anything with the knowledge that he now had access to a trust with one-point-four million dollars in it. He’d already been planning on telling Demo to anonymously donate a portion to Colby the Asshole, who’d refused to accept any money for Ranger’s care. Maybe donating the rest to the local NA/AA groups via pies was the best way to get rid of the rest.
* * *
Taking a deep breath,Ranger put his hands on the wood podium, still warm from those who shared before him. “Hi, my name is Liam, and I’m addicted to heroin.”
CHAPTER 3
95 Days Sober
The tantalizing scent of fresh, sizzling bacon roused Ranger from a restless slumber, but for the first time in his life, it didn’t make him hop out of bed. It was near two in the morning by the time he finally drifted off. Having a curfew sucked donkey dick, or he would have likely gone to the club’s garage on the property that they’d modified partly into a gym to work out until he passed out. Three days. Three days of twice-a-day meetings, therapy with Dr. Rutenberg…and nothing else. Everywhere he turned, someone was there. Their excuses were inventive. Ghost even had a prospect replace all the bricks lining the driveway just to ensure Ranger wasn’t left alone.
Every time Ranger turned around his mom was trying to shove food down his throat. What had his life become that he was actuallyturning downhis mom’s cooking? When he’d been overseas, he’d dreamed of her cooking. And now… He knew his mom was in the kitchen preparing a feast big enough for twenty people when it was just him, Becks, and Ghost.
He felt numb, and fucking bored out of his mind. No one would let him fuckingdoanything. Did they listen at all to Cross’ speech? He wasn’t fucking fragile. He could walk to the fucking clubhouse without needing an escort.
He could say something. It wasn’t like Ranger to keep his mouth shut, or to allow himself to be run over, but after everything he put his family through, how could he begrudge them their worry? Even if it was driving him insane.
Cross had warned him about boredom. How therewassuch a thing as too much “quiet time”, but he still suggested Ranger wait a week before he got a job. On the way to Morgantown for their second NA meeting, Ranger had told Crossmostof what had happened to him. He didn’t know what Colby had shared, if he’d even shared anything. But Cross was going out of his way to help Ranger, and Ranger felt he owed the man the truth of how he became an addict. He did not share anything about Becks’ and his inheritances, his sexual assault, or the torture that he’d endured, which had somehow become theleast. Four days of being stripped naked, bound to a fucking jail toilet, beaten, electrocuted, cut, starved, and dehydrated, and yet he had other things that had taken precedence over that.
Cross was sympathetic to Ranger’s history, but as Ranger already knew, it didn’t change the facts of his current circumstances. As Dr. Sutton had put it, it didn’t matter if Ranger broke his own leg or someone else broke his leg for him. His leg would still be broken. The same applied for his addiction.
But did it define him now? Was this the rest of his life? Not Ranger the former Army Ranger. Not Ranger the club enforcer. Not Ranger the bar owner. Just…Ranger the addict. Was this it? Was this all his life would be?
What if he survived his first year and got his one-year chip? It seemed like such a feat, but say he did it. Then what? He wasn’tcured. Look at Cross. The man had thirty-seven years sober, and he still spoke of his bad days.
He heard his bedroom door creak open. Ranger didn’t bother to close his eyes or fake being asleep. As Becks poked her head around the door, he glanced down his body at her, too numb to feign that he didn’t catch her check on him.
Becks’ cheeks flushed as she gave him a toothy grin of sisterly innocence before she slipped back out the door. Ranger heard her say that he was still asleep, likely to their mother. Well, at least Becks was good for something. Really the only time his mom wasn’t hovering was when he was asleep—or at least they both could pretend she wasn’t because the door separated them.
His eyes lazily traveled back up to the ceiling, the rest of him not moving a muscle. When Ranger had first gotten out of the Army, he’d been too preoccupied with civilian life to consider settling down. Others in his squad had someone special waiting for them at home. Ranger had dated, but no one that he’d been serious about. Then he’d joined the club. For six years, they’d enjoyed life, partying and finding their rhythm.
Then the new sheriff had come to town, bringing his adult daughter with him. And like a domino effect, Ranger had watched as one by one his brothers started falling. Hell, even Cage who’d been the biggest man-whore of them all, had fallen, and now he was the proud father of three and an honorary ol’ lady.
